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And that gave me an interesting amount of perspective about my own body image.
Because imagining that she was judging my body would also mean that I was judging hers. And nothing could be further from the truth.
“I’m starving,” she admitted as she finally tossed the rag into the bucket and stood, still looking freshly-fucked and flushed.
“You’re so fucking beautiful,” I said, surprising even myself with the emotion behind those words.
But she was.
Both inside and out.
“I’m dirty and sweaty,” she declared, pushing her glasses back up her nose with her upper arm.
“Doesn’t matter,” I said, shaking my head. “Still beautiful.”
Her gaze skittered away.
Embarrassed?
Disbelieving?
Either way, I didn’t like it.
Pushing away from the counter, I stalked over toward her, snagging her chin, and lifting it until she had no choice but to look up at me.
“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t mean it, baby,” I said, voice soft.
“Okay,” she said.
“Nope. Still don’t believe it, do you?” I asked, ducking my chin to my chest to keep holding her gaze when she tried to move it away. “You’re,” I said, pressing a kiss to one side of her lips,” beautiful,” I said, kissing the other side. “Got it?” I asked, pressing my lips to hers hard, feeling the smile there before she submitted to the kiss, her hands grabbing my arms as she swayed into me.
Only then did I break away, waiting for her lashes to flutter open.
“Is that settled now?” I asked.
I watched as the warmth spread from her smile to her eyes before she gave me a nod.
“Good. Now wash your hands, and I’ll set out the food,” I said. “You have approximately eighteen outfit changes to go through.”
“How do you know that?” she asked as she washed up.
“Because I have sisters,” I reminded her. “Anytime they had something to do, their bedroom looked like a hurricane tore through a women’s department store.”
“Well, luckily, I probablyonlyhave eighteen outfits to choose from. And fewer dresses, obviously,” she told me as she joined me at the table.
“Any chance you packed a bathing suit last time we went to your place?”
“Oh, that’s so not going to happen,” she said, shaking her head as she unwrapped her food, and took a bite.
That level of self-assurance would come, I told myself as we ate, talking mostly about the fence I was going to build for Frida. Both of us just… silently agreeing that she and Frida weren’t going anywhere, that they would be around for Frida to enjoy going outside without a leash for a change.
“What are you looking for?” I asked after we ate, when I walked into the bedroom to find her tearing all her bags apart that she hadn’t already unpacked.
“My contacts case,” she said, letting out a grumble as she got to the bottom of another bag without locating it.
“Why do you need that?” I asked. “I like you in glasses.”
“No one likes glasses,” she insisted, clearly in a bit of a downward spiral about it.
