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Hopefully he will.
“I look terrible,” I respond and his expression turns cross.
“Always putting yourself down.” He shakes his head, grabbing hold of my hand and leading me to his bedroom. “Kind of over it, Sutton.”
“You caught me at a bad time, Maguire,” I chastise him as we enter his bedroom, though I don’t mean a word of it.
I’m so glad he texted me. I’m so glad I’m here. With him.
He drags me over to his dresser so that we’re standing in front of the mirror that hangs over it. He looms behind me, tall and broad and mouthwateringly handsome, with his gaze locked on mine in the mirror.
“Tell me what you see.”
I’m frowning. “Me and you?”
“No, tell me what you see when you look at yourself.” He wraps his arms around me from behind, resting his chin on my shoulder. “And don’t list all of your faults. Say something positive.”
My gaze is caught on his face, the kindness I see there. The sincerity. No one has ever asked me to do something like this before, and it feels…weird.
“Don’t look at me.” He smiles, reaching up to angle my face more toward the mirror. “Look at you, Jo Jo. Tell me all the good things you see.”
My self-confidence isn’t the best, meaning my brain is scrambling as I study myself. “Um…I like my eyebrows.”
He chuckles. “Why?”
“They’re a good shape. I don’t have to pluck them much. My mom’s are pretty much the same.”
“So you’ve got your mama’s eyebrows.” He lifts his head, resting his jaw against my hair. “Tell me what else.”
“I don’t want to sound like I’m bragging—”
“It’s not bragging. It’s like, what do you girls call it? Self-affirmations.”
I frown. “How do you even know this?”
“I have two sisters, Jo Jo. They keep me up to date.”
Thank God for sisters.
“I guess I like my hair, though it looks a little wild right now,” I admit softly.
“I like it wild.” He smooths it away from my cheek, dropping a kiss there.
My knees want to buckle, the gesture was so sweet.
“My lips are okay.”
“Your lips are sexy as fuck.”
They part, all the words I could’ve said disappearing at his comment, and the heat in his gaze. I can feel him behind me, pressing closer, the length of his erection nudged against my butt.
“My boobs could be bigger.”
“I think they’re perfect.” He slips his hands beneath the hem of my sweatshirt, sliding them up, over my rib cage, until he encounters nothing but bare flesh. “No bra?”
“I don’t wear one to bed.”
“Lucky me.” He cups my breasts, his thumbs playing with my nipples, and a shuddery breath escapes me, my gaze locking on the movement of his hands beneath my shirt. “Say something else, baby. Tell me what else you like about yourself.”
