Then she waited. Really, she wasn’t afraid of what he might think about her new and improved breasts. Men liked big breasts, after all. Chet certainly had.
But it was the rest of her that had her worried. Her belly had started rounding out by the time she was three months pregnant and, aside from her loose tunics and leggings, nothing fitted. Not even close.
“I’ve put on a lot of weight.” She managed to say it in a level voice, without any of the hurt bleeding into that statement. But if he were going to say something...less than perfect, she wanted to be braced for the worst. She wouldn’t let it hurt.
“Hmm.” The noise rumbled out of his chest as his fingers trailed over her ribs, their destination unmistakable. “It suits you.”
What the heck did he mean by that? But before the words got off the tip of her tongue, his fingers were skimming over the sides of her breasts, circling around her nipples.
Which were, of course, tightening to hard points. Of course they were.
His thumbs swept over the tips and Renee stopped thinking about her weight, about Chet Willoughby and how perfectly average he’d been in bed. Instead, her head dropped back and she had to steady herself as the sensation of being touched—tenderly, sweetly and oh-so-hotly—overwhelmed her.
Then something warm and wet swept over her right nipple and her eyes flew open just in time to see Oliver lick it again. “Okay to suck or not?” he murmured against her flesh.
Heat flooded her body, making her shift anxiously. The pressure between her legs was so intense that she could barely think. All she could imagine was his mouth on her. “I... Gently, I think?” Was she more sensitive because she was pregnant? Or just because this was Oliver and he was seducing her like she’d never been seduced before?
She watched in fascination as he fell to his knees before her, his hands around her waist to hold her steady. Then he looked up at her and, holding her gaze with his own, he took her right nipple in his mouth.
She couldn’t have held back the moan if she tried—and she did try. But it was a pointless exercise because sensations crashed over her like waves breaking over a jagged shore.
And this was Oliver being gentle. In control. Cautious. She had a sudden urge to see him beyond all reason, wild with need and crazed with desire. For her.
As his mouth drew down on her, his thumb continued to flick over her other nipple and that pressure between her legs crested and then crested again. She dug her hands into his hair and held on tight.
She didn’t want to think about all the times she’d faked this kind of reaction, nor did she want to think about all the times Chet had skipped the foreplay to get right to the sex.
So she didn’t. She made a conscious effort to put those unpleasant disappointments into a box inside her mind and shut the lid tight. Chet was dead and she wasn’t. She was here and she was coming back to life under Oliver’s skilled touch.
“You taste like vanilla and chocolate,” he murmured as he kissed the space between her breasts before moving to the other one. “God, Renee, you taste so damn good.”
She sighed and gave herself over to him. It wasn’t selfish if he was giving himself freely, right? He wanted her. She wanted him. They were both consenting adults. There wasn’t anything wrong with any of this.
A thought in the very back of her mind tried to remind her that, if anyone put her and Oliver in bed together—or even near the bed—there would be many things wrong with this. Her toxic reputation might very well damage his own, which might affect his business and his family.
All those lovely feelings threatened to turn sour in a heartbeat and she almost pulled away from him. She couldn’t risk hurting the Lawrence family and, selfish as it was, she couldn’t risk tainting all those wonderful memories from her childhood with loathing and recrimination.
But that was the exact moment that Oliver relinquished her breast and began kissing down her stomach. Renee froze, torn between the need to do the right thing, the urge to hide her belly or the marks on her legs from him and the unleashed desire still crashing through her system. “Oliver...”
He kissed the top of her belly, where it rounded out. And as much as Renee detested it, she was powerless to stop her mother’s voice echoing through her thoughts.
Look at you. It’s disgusting, how you’ve already let yourself go. It’s embarrassing to be seen in public with you when you’re this fat and ugly.
She moved to cover herself but Oliver caught her hands in his. “Don’t hide from me, Renee,” he said, his mouth moving lower. “You have no idea how gorgeous you are right now, do you?”
“I’m not.” Her whisper was shaky, even to her own ears.
“You are.” He looked up at her, that intensity shining through the lust. “Let me show you how much I want you.” Then, before she could stop him, he hooked his fingers into the stretchy waistband of her leggings and her panties and pulled down.
He had to work the fabric over her hips but he was making that humming noise that seemed to come straight from his chest as he bared her. She balanced herself on his shoulders as she stepped out of her clothes and then she was completely nude before him.
He stared at her in what she desperately hoped was wonder and not something less...savory. He hadn’t noticed the scars yet, so she fought the urge to slap her hands over the tops of her thighs. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. Chet never had, after all.
God, why was she like this? Why couldn’t she let go? Why couldn’t she get lost in Oliver’s eyes, Oliver’s touch? Why was her mother’s sneering voice cutting through this moment? Why were memories
