Page 25

"You're not exactly what?"

I struggle to find words. "I'm not what you probably usually... I mean, I'm not thin or..."

He kneels in front of me so we're eye level, his hands warm on my thighs. "I'm going to tell you something, and I need you to hear it."

"Okay."

"You're beautiful. Every part of you. And if you think I've been spending the last day trying not to stare at you out of politeness, you're wrong. I've been staring because I can't help it." His hands slide up and down my thighs, the touch soothing and arousing at once. "I've been thinking about touching you since you opened that door yesterday. About what you'd feel like. What you'd taste like. What sounds you'd make."

"Kieran..."

"I'm serious. You want to know what I've been thinking about since this morning? How you looked in my shirt at breakfast. How you fit against me last night. How badly I want to see all of you." His thumbs trace circles on my inner thighs through the denim. "But only if that's what you want too. We can stop right now. We can go back to the couch. Whatever you need."

The honesty in his voice loosens something I've been holding tight. "I want this. I'm just scared."

"Of me?"

"Of being wrong about you. Of this being another mistake. Of..." I take a breath. "Trevor used to make comments about my body. Nothing mean exactly. Just observations that felt like criticisms. About what I ate, how my clothes fit, how I'd be happier if I lost weight. That he didn't mind, but other guys might."

Kieran's jaw tightens, and I see his hands flex on my thighs. "He was an asshole."

"I know. But after a year of hearing it, I started believing him. Started seeing myself the way he saw me."

"Look at me."

I meet his eyes.

"I'm not looking at you like you're acceptable despite anything. I'm looking at you like you're exactly what I want." He leans in, his face close to mine. "Like I've been half-hard since you opened that door in these jeans. Like I want to spend the next hour learning every part of you. Like I want to find out what makes you gasp and what makes you say my name and what makes you come so hard you can't think straight."

Heat floods through me at his words. "God."

"But if you need me to slow down, if you need to stop, you tell me. Okay?"

"Okay."

He leans in and kisses me again, slower this time, his hands sliding up to the button of my jeans. He pauses, fingers on the button.

"Can I?"

"Yeah."

He unbuttons them and slides the zipper down with deliberate slowness, then hooks his fingers in the waistband.

I lift my hips and he pulls them off, taking his time, his eyes never leaving mine. When they're off, he just looks at me for a moment.

I'm in my bra and underwear in the afternoon light, and I have to fight every instinct not to cover myself.

"You're so beautiful," he says, his voice rough. "You have no idea."

"Kieran..."

"No. Let me say this." His hands run up my calves, over my knees, along my thighs. "You're curves and softness and strength. Your body is perfect. These thighs." His hands squeeze gently. "Your stomach. Your breasts. All of you. And I'm going to prove it to you."

"How?"

"Let me show you."

He guides me back onto the bed properly, and I go, my heart pounding. He's still fully dressed while I'm in my underwear, and the contrast makes me feel exposed but not vulnerable. Not with the way he's looking at me.