Any tiny flaw you have because you carried a baby is beautiful too.”
She blinks at me as if trying to believe my words.
I’d like to punch Trevor again. Twice. Allie’s never self-conscious. And she’s never been preoccupied with appearances. But this is obviously something Trevor made her feel inferior about. While she was just a teenage girl.
“You have to trust me about this,” I whisper as my fingers reach again for the bottom of her shirt.
She gives a slow and tentative nod, and lets me peel the shirt from her body.
With a plan of making this slow and sensual for both of us, I place my hands on her ribs—and she shivers as I turn her toward the mirror.
Her apprehensive gaze meets mine in the glass. My eyes sweep over her body. She’s slender but not too thin. Her pale skin is a lovely contrast to the bright ink on her arm along with the shine of the auburn curls falling below her shoulders. The soft swell of her breasts above her plain cotton bra lifts in a deep breath as I run my fingers up her arm and down the middle of her torso. There’s not a flaw in sight.
“Gorgeous,” I say, dragging my lips along her shoulder. She shivers again. I let her bra clasp loose then with a hook of my thumbs tug it off at each strap as she watches. “So gorgeous,” I repeat at the sight of her firm, high breasts.
As I cup her breasts, she falls against me with a soft sigh. Keeping one hand on her hardening nipple, I move my other hand to the button of her jeans and her gray eyes open wide. Not letting her back out, I unzip her jeans. She trembles. I push them down and they crumple to the floor at her feet.
Long waisted, with a sweet curve to her hips, she could be a swimsuit model, at least for the guy magazines. She’s much hotter than the ridiculous bone-ass-thin models in fashion magazines. Her flower-dotted panties ride low. Right above the red waistband, a faded slash curls inches below her belly button. Another faint scar is barely visible closer to her hip. Her gaze is fearful as she stares at the faint marks.
“You are so beautiful,” I groan. “And this”—my fingers trace a path along a shiny, thin puckered scar —“doesn’t take anything away from your beauty, and certainly not from how much I want you.”
When her body doesn’t release its tight line of tension, I kneel, yank her jeans free from her feet, and turn her sideways. Hands gripping her hips, I kiss and then run my tongue along each faint scar visible above the line of her panties. Releasing a sigh, her body finally relaxes and she thrusts her hands into my damp hair. My shoulders loosen. So intent on her response, I hadn’t realized the tight coil of my own body.
Finally, oh fucking finally, I slowly pull her panties off, and as soon as her feet are free, I press my lips and tongue to the place I’ve been wanting to kiss forever. She gasps and bucks, but I hold her still by the hips. When her climax hits, I watch her face in the mirror. Head back, lips parted, she’s more beautiful than I could ever explain to her.
I stand slowly, then quickly shed the pink shorts and even more quickly lead her to the bed. She still appears dazed as I lay her down. But when I reach for my wallet, miraculously—or not, since it appears Allie had made plans while I showered—on the nightstand, her hands come to my chest.
“Wait, wait. Let me touch you.”
Though I’m not sure how much longer I can wait, I lie on my side and let her hands slide over me. Her fingers trace my tattoos and the muscles on my chest. Her hands wrap around the hot length of me, and my eyes roll into the back of my head. The movement of those hands has me hissing through my teeth, “Get the fucking condom.”
Twisting toward the stand, she giggles. “Yeah, that’s what it’s for.”
I snatch it from her fingers, tear it open with my teeth, and pretty much slap it on. The curve of her mouth turns into an O as I push her onto the pillows and roll over her. Poised above, holding her face in my palms, I know it’s too early, too damn early yet, but my heart is overflowing. “I’m falling in love with you,” I say, entering her.
Her eyes widen into gray pools of shock, but as I deepen my angle, she gasps. I drink the gasp from her lips, her legs wrap around me, and we rock into mindless oblivion.
With his arm around my waist, Justin falls asleep almost immediately. I stare at the ceiling while his words,
I sit on the closed toilet and try to get a grip. My arms tighten around my knees.
Why didn’t they tell me to jump off a cliff?
Because Justin’s words have me feeling like I’m standing on the edge of one.
Deep inside, I’m elated, because his words feel right. Yet I’m not ready for them, and I can already feel the weight of them crushing me. Between Ben and the shop and school, I have too much on my shoulders already. Now Justin’s heart has been added to the list. Though Holly keeps saying that Justin is a big boy and that I should worry only about myself, I can’t ignore his words.
And what about my heart?
I can’t even contemplate the issue of love. It’s too much.
I never wanted things to get to this point. It was supposed to be just
Unable to deal with all the emotions swirling through me, I stand and turn on the shower. For over a half hour, I let the spray of water wash away my thoughts. By the time I step out, I’ve run through all the hot water and my mind is nearly empty. I put my hair in a bun and dab on a bit of makeup, then go change the laundry before getting dressed. I roam around the apartment, mindlessly straightening up and tinkering in the kitchen. I build a wall between those words and me, and try to relax. I pretend for the moment that they don’t exist, that they were never spoken, and that whatever is between Justin and me is just fun.
And instead of acting freaked out, I’m going to have fun for once, dammit.
Once the apartment is spotless and Justin’s clothes are dry, I toss his jeans and boxers at the end of the bed. He sits up still sleepy eyed despite having slept for hours.
His blond hair is a wild mess and his jaw is covered with a dark scruff. The white comforter around his waist contrasts with his coppery skin and the black tribal art and Japanese-lettering tattoos. He is absolutely delectable. Releasing a yawn he asks, “Where’s my shirt?”
“I thought you could hang out in your jeans until we leave.”
The ring in his eyebrow rises. “Oh, I’m your eye candy now?”
“Absolutely. No better eye candy around.”
He jumps from the bed and lunges at me. Laughing, I step into the hallway. “Get dressed. I started making lunch.” I leave him shaking his head and reaching for his pants.
Since I usually cook for Ben, my kitchen is stocked with kid basics. Holly rarely eats here and hardly ever shops. So after searching the cupboards and refrigerator three times, I decide we don’t have many choices besides grilled cheese and tomato soup.
I’m slicing cheese as Justin wanders into the kitchen. I pause to take him in wearing only jeans, with a strip of his boxers showing. Screw Todd. Tribal tattoos are hot. Justin is hot. I want to forget about lunch and have him instead.
He glances at the pan on the stove and the items on the counter, then bumps my hip with his. “Let me cook. You did the laundry.”
“How about you do the soup and I’ll make the sandwiches?”
His lips turn down. “Why do you get the good part?”
I set the knife on the cutting board. “Fine. I’ll make the soup.”
Picking the knife up, he says, “Prepared to be awed by my grilled-cheese-making skills.”
“I’ve already been awed by your spinach quiche.” I dig in a drawer for the can opener. “How did you learn to
