“No, it’s fine,” I lie, trying to sound confident.
“So, why are you still sucking in?” Connor gives my tummya tap right over my belly button, and I pray he doesn’t notice it rippling like a lake in the rain.
I try to shrug casually, which is difficult when you’re lying down. “I just feel a bit uncomfortable when people touch my tummy, that’s all.”
To his credit, Connor slides his hand to rest on my hip instead. “That better?”
I nod.
Connor raises himself up so he’s leaning on his elbow, looking at me from slightly above. “If anything ever makes you uncomfortable, you need to tell me instead of trying to hide it so we can deal with it, okay?”
I nod again, embarrassed.
“Good. Now will you please breathe normally?”
Reluctantly, I let my stomach return to normal. I can’t bear to look at Connor, so I stare up at the ceiling instead, torturing myself by wondering how disgusted he is by my far-from-perfect belly on a scale from ‘I just vomited in my mouth’ to ‘I want to scrub my own hands raw so they never accidentally brush against it again’. I’m hoping he’s leaning more towards the ‘mouth-vomit’ end of the scale because I love his hands and it would be a shame to see them ruined.
I’m distracted by movements beside me, and when I look, Connor’s head has disappeared under the covers.
I’m confused. “Connor?”
No reply. But his hand moves from my hip to the hem of my pyjama top, lifting it up slowly.
“Connor? What are you doing?” Panic starts to bubble inside me as he exposes the skin above my pyjama bottoms.
The infuriating, sexy man still doesn’t answer me. He keeps pulling up my top agonisingly slowly, stopping when he reaches just underneath my breasts. I try to stay calm. I trust Connor completely; that’s not the issue. I’m just not ready for him torealise how hideous I am and end it before it’s even properly begun.
“Connor…” My voice is full of emotion when I say his name, and this time, thankfully, he responds.
“You don’t believe me when I tell you I love everything about you,” he says softly, his voice muffled by the duvet.
His warm breath tickles my skin, and I suck in a surprised gasp.
“So I’m going to show you instead.”
I jump and let out a squeak when Connor kisses my stomach, right below the belly button. My hand flies to my mouth, mortified at my reaction. Connor just chuckles and kisses me again, slightly to the left of his previous kiss. I’m tense under his touch, a mixture of shock and arousal swimming around in my brain, but Connor continues, oblivious.
He places row upon row of kisses all over the front of my stomach, then switches his focus to my sides. This time his kisses are open-mouthed, warm and wet, his tongue almost tickling my sensitive skin. I gasp. My breaths come in raspy heaves as he licks his way from my hip bone up to my ribs. I can’t help but squirm with pleasure and involuntarily thrust up my hips towards him.
“Needy girl,” Connor says, his voice low but amused.
He uses his arms to hold down my bottom half, and that’s when I realise he hasn’t actually touched my stomach with his hands this whole time. Connor continues to kiss and lick every inch of my tummy and sides. After minutes of writhing at his touch, I decide to be brave and peel back the covers so I can see him. When I do, Connor peers up at me with a smirk on his face and kisses my flesh again, keeping eye contact with me.
Add this to the list of ‘sexiest things a man can do’ along with rolling up his shirt sleeves and driving one-handed.
“Do you believe me yet?” he asks between kisses. “Do youbelieve that I think you’re perfect? That there isn’t any part of you that I don’t find irresistible?”
I nod, my ability to speak disappearing as he rolls down the waistband of my cotton pyjama bottoms.
“Use your words, Tilly.” I’ve never heard Connor use such a commanding tone before but, my God, I hope he uses it again.
“Yes,” I breathe as his tongue traces a line from one hip bone to the other.
“Louder, baby,” he mumbles against my skin, his onslaught never wavering.
“Yes,” I say, louder this time.
Connor smiles and rolls my waistband down one more time. As he kisses the freshly exposed skin, his hand drifts up my side, under my bunched-up top and lands on my breast. I moan when he squeezes and pinches me, which spurs him on. His touch gets rougher, and his kisses become more urgent.
