“Do you ever think about that night?” I ask softly.
His gaze doesn’t falter, eyes roaming over my skin. “Probably more than you’d ever realize.”
My body heats at his answer. I reach for the glass he discarded on the island and bring it to my lips, slowly finishing off the remaining liquid before setting it to my other side. I take a step closer, and another, until we are toe to toe. With a heavy inhale I press my chest against his, running my hands up his pecs until my fingers dive into the hair at the nape of his neck.
His hands fall to my waist, squeezing the soft skin. With an abrupt jerk, he pulls my hips to his.
“Which part do you think about the most?” I whisper as I brush my nose along the side of his neck. “Was it when I fell to my knees and you fucked my mouth?”
He lets out a pained groan, his grip on my hips tightening.
“Or maybe when I was bent over the bed, on display for you and only you.”
He growls, flipping us around so I’m trapped between him and the kitchen island. With a grip on my hips, he lifts me up, setting me on the counter.
“That was so fucking hot, but no, still not my favorite part.”
His hands are kneading my hips, running the length of my bottom and lower back, his eyes hovering over my still clothed body.
I grab the hem of my shirt in my hands, arching back to pull it up and over my head. I hold my tee out on a finger, letting it drop on the island.
“Was it when you came on my tits?” My voice is a whisper, and I bring my hands up to the sides of his face, running a thumb over his puffy bottom lip. “I think that was my favorite part, when you marked me as yours.”
His mouth comes to my chest, placing hot, wet kisses over my breasts. He licks, nips, bites, eliciting embarrassing moans from me with each action. “Every kiss, every moan, every single second of that night was torture. It’stortureto be around you, knowing I don’t have the freedom to touch you like that.”
I let my head fall back, giving him full access to my neck, and he runs his lips over me, nipping lightly over my pulse point, dangerously close to my mouth but not kissing me.
“I think you like knowing you torture me.”
I giggle, knowing he’s partially right. But the feeling of being wanted by a man like him, by agoodman, one I want just as badly is terrifying. “Jim,” I beg, gripping his shirt to pull him closer.
He wraps his arms around me, leaning me back until my shoulders hit the counter. He feasts on my body, his lips moving from my mouth to my neck, paying each breast equal attention. His expert hands work my nipples, the movement frantic, as if he wants to do everything, all at once, for fear it might end soon.
I grasp at the hem of his shirt and tug, ushering for him to take it off. He releases me, standing back to reach both hands behind him and pulls it over his head. He balls it in his fists and chucks it to the ground, and I soak in the beautiful sight before me.
I’ve seen him naked before; I licked those abs and wrapped my entire body around his naked one, but that was nearly a year ago. Jim spends hours at the gym, lifting weights, running, playing basketball. And it shows in every inch of his hardened muscle. I’ve seen the boring shit he keeps in his fridge, and right now, my mind is screaming with the wild differences between our bodies.
A bucket of cold water splashes over me, and I reach to the side for my shirt, draping it over my stomach before I push him back so I can sit up.
Jim's face immediately falls, his brow furrows as he steps back into my space. “What was that about?”
The bridge of my nose tingles, and I shrug.
I like to let people think I’m confident. I’ve found ways to use cockiness and flirtation to drown out the insecurities about my body. Each time I got a free shot at the bar, each time a successful man begged to date me, I used those moments as band-aids to cover the microtears in my confidence.
He leans over me, reaching a broad palm up to tilt my face towards his, forcing me to make eye contact. “What?” he asks again, his tone sharpening.
For the first time since I’ve met him, I want Jim to leave. I want him to walk out the door and go home and leave me alone with my bad thoughts. “Not all of us have time to go to the gym,you know.” I adjust my shirt, reaching to slip my arm in one sleeve. “I didn’t know you were into chubby girls.”
Jim’s expression is shocked, only for a fraction of a second do his eyes widen, his brows raised.
“I bet you don’t have a speck of cellulite on this body.” I reach a hand up to mockingly pinch his side, and he roughly catches it mid-air, holding it forcefully to his chest.
“Shut up.”
My head reels back at his words. “Did you just tell me to shut up?”
He nods, pushing my legs apart to get as close as possible. “Yeah, I did. You talk like that about yourself, and I’m going to tell you to shut your mouth.”
