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I was still learning to get used to my naked face. It was so rare that I saw it in the daylight. In the past, I was required to look my best at all times.
Preston had made it clear he didn’t like the way I looked without makeup. And enough years had gone by that Preston’s likes and dislikes had become my likes and dislikes. Out of need for survival, I supposed.
So I had some level of self-hatred, I guessed. Nonexistent confidence. My fight-or-flight mode that was almost always engaged.
In short, I was screwed up.
And I was diving into a completely crazy scenario with a crowd of people I’d never met.
Without hair or makeup, without the things that had served as my armor for so long.
Without it, I looked younger, my skin lineless, pale because my natural skin tone was alabaster. I blushed easily and bruised even easier, something that helped my face a lot these past years. My eyes were wide, lashes dark, framing the dark blue eyes that I thought were my best feature. My lips were pink, full—because of the injections that Preston insisted I get—and slightly too big for my face in my opinion. But they suited me more now that my face was getting rounder with the weight gain. My cheekbones weren’t so high and gaunt anymore.
Swiss came up behind me in the mirror. “You’re right,” he agreed, eyes flickering over my bare face, my rosy cheeks, my wide and bright eyes.
My stomach dropped.
His arms slipped around my waist. “You look too fuckin’ good,” he murmured, nuzzling my neck. “Freshly fucked,” he continued, speaking against my skin. Inhaling. “Glowing.” His eyes met mine. “Not enough of my brothers are loved up. I’m definitely gonna have to shoot at least one of them for trying to steal you from me.”
I rolled my eyes. “Be serious.”
He thought on it. “Okay, you’re right. Shooting might be too messy and loud. There will probably be children there. I’ll stab them. Flesh wounds only.”
I shot daggers at him with my eyes. “Seriously?” I cried. “I don’t have any makeup with me. My hair is still wet!”
He stared right back at me. “Who gives a fuck? You look gorgeous.”
“I don’t need you to lie to me,” I snapped.
Swiss frowned at me, then his hands ran up my belly to my breasts. “You’re telling me you don’t think you’re fuckin’ beautiful?” he asked quietly, massaging my breasts. “You don’t think these tits, these nipples are the most magnificent things you’ve ever seen?” He yanked up my tank to expose my pebbled nipples.
My breathing was ragged as his other hand slipped into my jeans and panties, cupping my pussy before moving back around my hip.
“You don’t think this is the juiciest, perkiest, most fuckable ass on the planet?” he asked.
I did not answer because I was pretty sure that his questions were rhetorical.
Also because I had quickly lost my ability to speak.
Swiss’s eyes were scorching as his hands left the intimate parts of my body. I was both disappointed and relieved.
He righted my shirt and turned me to face him, clutching my neck. “I am not blowin’ smoke up your ass, Kate,” he said quietly. “Shitty thing to be honest about, but I feel this moment needs it because you are thinkin’ bullshit things about yourself.” His thumb moved up to brush my jaw. “Would not have walked up to you at the party if I didn’t think you were the most beautiful woman in the room. The most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. Men are wired like that. We’re simple creatures, driven by our dicks. And the way you looked that night yanked at my dickstrings.”
I blinked at him, and a bubble of hysterical laughter escaped from my throat. Only Swiss could say something serious at the same time as uttering the word ‘dickstrings.’
He grinned in triumph before he continued.
“You had your hair done. Makeup on. The outfit. And you looked good,” he said. “But not better than you do right now. Right now, with your face fresh, clean, glowing from the many times I made you cum.”
Desire pulsed between my legs.
“Your eyes glowing in a way they weren’t that night,” he continued softly. His thumb found my bottom lip. “Smilin,” he murmured. “A real smile,” he corrected. “Now I don’t consider myself to be an expert on women, but I know that you’re thinkin’ all sorts of shit because you know the Old Ladies are out there, and you want to look your best. And I also know that my opinion may not win against the shit swirlin’ inside you, but for what it’s worth, I think you look your absolute best in this moment.”
My head thrummed with everything he’d said. And not in the past minute or so. This entire morning.
I felt like I was about to explode under the weight of the unequivocally wonderful things he was saying to me. The honesty in which he was saying them.
I didn’t trust it. Instinctively.
