“I really like you, too,” he whispers into my hair.
He gently tilts my face up so that I’m forced to look up at him. He doesn’t say anything, he just presses his lips to mine. His hand leaves my waist and gently trails up my back until it tangles into my hair, and he pulls my head back. I look up into his eyes, getting lost in them. I feel like they hold so many secrets, ones that I hope to one day unlock and hold close to my chest.
He stares at me for a few moments before he presses his lips back to mine. He kisses me until we’re both breathless and have to pull away for air.
“Please don’t leave me,” I whisper. He picks me up effortlessly, my legs wrapping around his waist and my arms around his neck.
“Never, baby, I’ll never leave,” he promises, burying his face into my neck and holding me to him.
We slow dance in the headlights for I don’t know how long. All I know is that by the time we get home, I can’t stop smiling. That smile doesn’t leave my face when he takes me up to bed and makes me feel good all night long.
28
SLOANE
Istare at myself in Beckett’s bathroom mirror. I pinch the fat on my sides. Lifting my shirt up, it shows my gross stretch marks and scars that I always keep hidden under high-waisted spandex or leggings.
“Baby?”
I drop my shirt, and I freeze. “Beckett,” I gasp in surprise, turning towards the door, panicking. He’s not supposed to be home for a few more hours.
I quickly wipe my eyes, but he’s already stalking towards me and pulling me into his arms.
I bury my face into his chest as he picks me up and walks me out into his—ourroom.
He sets me down on the floor in front of the full-length mirror next to the bed. The one I actively avoid, especially when I feel like this.
“Becke—” I try, but he cuts me off before I can get too far.
“Stop, just look,” he says, turning me towards the mirror and forcing my chin up so I can see my own eyes in the mirror.
“Take off your shirt,” he gently commands. I shake my head at him, my bottom lip trembling slightly.
“Take. It. Off,” he repeats, his eyes finding mine.
I pull off my shirt, which is actually his, and I stare at myself as I stand in only a pair of cotton panties.
I try to cover myself, but he doesn’t let me. He brushes my hair out of the way and presses his lips to the skin.
“You are so fucking beautiful, baby,” he whispers, kissing up my neck, making me tilt my head back slowly.
“How can you say that? I have stretch marks, scars, flab, and wiggly thighs, I’m not?—”
He presses a finger to my lips.
“You are perfect just the way you are,” he says, running his hand down my body, and it drifts into my panties.
“You don’t have to do this,” I whisper as he nibbles on my neck, holding me flush against him.
“You feel that, baby? Your body doesthisto me,” he says, pressing his hardening cock against my ass. I gasp. The hand not in my panties touches me all over; down my neck, over my breasts, gently tracing my rib tattoo, before settling on my waist. His other hand toys with me, rubbing me gently with two fingers. Giving me just enough but not at the same time.
“You’re so fucking gorgeous, baby,” he rasps, sucking my earlobe into his mouth.
“Beck,” I gasp as his finger slides inside me. My eyes flutter closed, and he growls.
“Watch.”
My eyes pop open, surprised by the tone. It’s not forceful, but it leaves no room for disobedience, either.
