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Distractedly, I answer, “Brunch sounds good.” But my mind is miles away from eating.
I was going to wait. Gather my courage. But now it’s like a swarm of butterflies has taken up residence in my stomach.
My thoughts keep going back to that little tissue-paper-wrapped package in my bag. And wondering if I have the nerve to open it.
“Thea, do you want scrambled eggs, or over-easy?”
Crap. We’re in the kitchen and Ben’s been talking to me for who knows how long. “Um. Either way?”
His brows come down in a concerned V. “Do you not want eggs? I have other stuff. Bagels, croissants, ham, bacon, fruit, mix to make pancakes. Unless you’d rather just have lunch instead?”
Ben leans down, his green eyes meeting mine, and he strokes his thumb across my cheek. “Is everything alright? You seem kind of distracted.” Worry seeps into his voice. “Is something wrong?”
I give myself a mental shaking. “No, no. I’m fine. Just… thinking. But everything is fine. More than fine. It’s great.”
And now my tone is pitching up and even to myself, I don’t sound convincing.
“Thea…” Now he’s really worried, his gaze darkening as he examines me. “Do you want to sit down and talk? If something is bothering you…”
Great. I’m really messing things up now. So rather than let this impending catastrophe of miscommunication continue, I make a decision. “I’m fine, Ben. I just have to do something real quick.”
I snatch up my duffel bag and dart out of the kitchen, calling over my shoulder, “I’ll be right back. I promise.”
In the bathroom, I have a moment of reckoning. The moment when I put on the sheer black bra and thong that cost a fortune and cover almost nothing. Just inches of filmy black lace covering my body.
I’ve never been overly self-conscious, but I’ve also never exposed myself like this before. In the past, it’s been dimmed lights, cotton underwear and baggy T-shirts. Not something that literally shows my nipples.
But it’s Ben. Not someone else. Not the college boyfriend I dated because I thought I should. Or the ill-advised hookup that happened after attending one too many of my friends’ weddings solo.
It’s Ben. And I think—no, I know—he’d never do anything to make me feel foolish. So I grit my teeth, give my hair a little fluff, and force myself out of the bathroom before I chicken out.
He’s still in the kitchen, so I spend the short walk through the living room trying to boost my confidence. My breasts are pretty nice, I think—full without being droopy. My hips are on the curvier side, but my waist is mostly flat and narrow.
I pause just outside the doorway, resisting the urge to peek my head around like I’m a child trying to catch a glimpse of the tree on Christmas morning. “Ben?” My voice cracks a little.
“Thea?” Footsteps move across the tiled kitchen floor, coming closer.
“Um. Can you just stop? For a second?” God. I feel like a shy teenager instead of a fully grown woman. “I have a… surprise.”
The footsteps stop. “A surprise?”
“Yes. So.” I take a steadying breath. “It’s not really a gift, but…” As I step into the kitchen, my heart lurches into my throat.
In an instant, Ben’s expression changes. All the worry lines go slack, and his lowered brows jump up. After a second of silence, he breathes, “Thea?”
Cheeks flaming, I start stammering. “I thought… I’m not sure if it… I’ve never worn something like this…”
“Thea.” He steps forward, his voice going rough. “I don’t like it.”
Oh.
In a blink, Ben is right in front of me. “I love it. I can’t believe…” He swallows hard. “You look… You look incredible. I knew you were sexy, but this…”
One big hand touches my hip, his warmth searing into my skin. “You’re stunning.” As his gaze moves slowly down my body, I notice a bulge growing below his waist.
Pulse thundering, lungs squeezing, I whisper, “I look okay?”
“Yes.” His voice is a band close to snapping. He moves his hand across my belly, then around to the curve of my ass. “You’re perfect. Your ass. ” He gives it a small squeeze. “Your breasts. Your tiny waist. Your skin—”
