Just as he does too.
Warm liquid hits the back of my throat, and I swallow every bit of it with my moans. We come down from our highs completely in sync.
He pulls me up by my hands, looking down at me with his pretty eyes and his heavy lids. His pupils are blown, and I want to completely lose myself in them. I want him to look at me like this forever.
He turns me around so we’re both facing the mirror.
“Look at yourself one more time, Natalie,” he whispers right in my ear. “Look how stunning you are. Not only on the outside, but on the inside too.” He touches my chest with the palm of his hand before bringing his thumb to my bottom lip, wiping all the way to the corner, and then slipping it into his mouth.
I gasp in surprise, and he smiles.
“You had a little something there.” He winks in the mirror, making me giggle.
“In all seriousness, I mean it. You. All of you.” He traces his fingers over my stretchmarks and the C-section scar that saved both my and Vero’s lives, the one raised a couple of centimeters. He drags his fingers over my soft belly and my wide hips, every part of me I once deemed undeserving and unwanted. He’s looking at my body with the same passion as when he looks at my face, with the same eyes I look at him with. He thinks I’m beautiful, and he doesn’t have to say it again for me to believe it. I know he does. Even the scars. “You are so beautiful. And I cannot wait until the day comes when you tell me all the stories behind these scars.”
I suck in a breath. This, I wasn’t expecting.
“Not now. You don’t have to share anything you don’t want. I’m patient, remember?” he asks, and I smile, nodding.
“Now let me get you dressed so I can take you home.”
“I don’t have to,” I answer before I chicken out. “Um, Allie is keeping the girls tonight.”
“Natalie, what are you saying?”
“I can spend the night, if you want.” He smiles, bringing his lips to mine and walking us backwards out of the bathroom into his bed.
“Oh, Chili might come by. Don't get scared.”
“Chili?” I ask. Who the heck is Chili?
“My goat.”
39
YOU’RE A WORK OF ART
Nothing’s Gonna Hurt You Baby by Cigarettes After Sex
Holden
I groanas the sun warms my face. My body aches in a way it hasn’t in a while, but I don’t have to think long on what caused it. There are arms wrapped around me, a head of pretty copper hair splayed over my chest. I smile to myself, careful not to move or make any sounds so as not to wake her, but it’s futile. She stirs in my arms.
I bend and kiss her on the forehead. She freezes, so I whisper, “Good morning, Beauty.” She relaxes immediately, as if for a split second, she had no clue where she was, but the mere sound of my voice helped put her at ease.
She lifts up on her elbows, glazed blue eyes on mine, stopping my heart in the process. Her chin rests on my chest, her thick thighs over mine, and if heaven was a place on Earth, it would be this, right here. I trail my fingers down her back, smiling softly when she does the same over my chest.
“Hi,” I whisper.
“Hi,” she echoes.
“Are you a coffee and breakfast in bed kinda girl?” I ask, and, as if I told a joke, she laughs.
“I don’t remember the last time I was able to be a coffee and breakfast in bed kind of girl. I’m more of the maker of the breakfast instead.”
“Okay, well, you stay here, and I’ll be back.” I kiss her forehead again, trying to slip out from under her, but she groans.
“Nooo, don’t go. You’re so warm.”
