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Yeah. Raid was going to murder that bastard.
“Baby, stop,” he whispered as she whimpered and thrashed around. “You’re safe. I’m here. You’re safe, baby. I’m here.”
“Raid,” she whispered.
“Yeah, that’s right. Raid.”
“Can’t have him . . . dirty . . .”
He was dirty? What did that . . . Shit, no. She wasn’t talking about him.
Hannah was talking about herself. She thought she was dirty? And that’s why she couldn’t have him?
Oh yeah. He was going to kill that motherfucker.
14
“You can’t stay the night.”
Hannah carefully sat at the dining table. The chair creaked under her weight. So, she was somewhat worried about what was going to happen when Raid attempted to sit.
He was heavy. All of him was pure muscle.
And damn . . . part of her really wanted the chance to examine every inch of his skin.
The other part knew that was never going to happen.
“It’s all right. Alec had a blow-up bed delivered,” he replied as he set the tray of lasagna down in the middle of the table. It landed with a bang. She gave the table a worried look. “So I don’t have to twist my back into a pretzel trying to sleep on that torture device.” He nodded his head over to the sofa as he spooned up massive servings of lasagna onto both plates.
He put one in front of her. “Eat up. There’s tiramisu afterward or, if you’d rather, Mia sent some brownies.”
“Brownie?”
“Yep. We need ice cream, though. Everything tastes better with ice cream.”
“Are Mia’s brownies not that good?” she asked.
“Shit.” He gave her wide eyes. “Don’t say that. Alec will kill you.”
Alarm filled her. The last thing she wanted was for Alec to be mad at her.
“And anyway, Mia’s brownies are the shit. But they’re even better with ice cream. I’ll go out and get it if you want the brownies.”
“I don’t need the brownies.”
“Tiramisu it is.” He sat without a care that the chair might crack under him.
She sucked in a breath, but the chair held.
“I don’t need any dessert.”
“Everyone needs dessert, darlin’.”
“Not me. I just got rid of my ass and thighs. I don’t need them to come back.”
She was staring down at the lasagna as she said that, so she didn’t see his expression change. But she felt the atmosphere in the room change.
Hannah looked up at Raid.
“What did you say?” he asked in a low voice.
“Um . . . that I don’t need my butt and thighs back. They were enormous.” That’s what Steven had always made clear, anyway. He’d encouraged her to stop eating sweets and take up exercise to get rid of what he’d called her bubble butt and jelly thighs.
Now that she thought about it . . . what a jerk!
“Bubble butt and jelly thighs,” she murmured.
“Excuse me?” he asked in a low, warning voice.
“That’s what he told me that my ass and thighs were. He said it with a smile on his face, as though he was joking. Like it was an inside joke we had together. Look at Hannah’s fat ass and thighs.”
What an idiot she’d been. The signs had been there all along.
Hannah had never worried about her body until him. She’d been happy with the way she looked. She’d always gotten admiring looks at the club. No one there had ever told her that she had a bubble butt and jelly thighs.
“Well, fuck him!” Raid snapped.
She jumped and stared at him, startled. “What?”
“Fuck him and his Tootsie roll!”
Okay . . . she really didn’t expect, after what she’d just been thinking, that she’d feel like giggling. “Tootsie roll?”
“Yep. Guy like that can only have a micropenis. That’s why he was trying to make you feel bad about your body. If he got in first, made shit up to make you feel bad, then he was obviously hoping you’d be so worried about your body that you wouldn’t notice that he had areas he found concerning. Like his widdle diddle.”
“Widdle diddle, really?”
“Well, what would you call it?” he asked
She shook her head.
“Tell me. What would you call his dinkie winkie?”
Oh, dear Lord. “I call it disappointing.”
He stared at her a moment, then he threw his head back and roared with laughter.
“And it doesn’t matter the size,” she told him primly. “It’s what someone can do with it. Unfortunately, he was a three-pump chump who didn’t care if I came or not.”
“Fucking asshole. Fuck him and fuck his opinion. Did you like your body before him?”
“Yes,” she answered quietly.
“Then fuck him. Say it after me. Fuck that disappointing dinkie winkie.”
“Raid.”
“Say it.”
Screw it. What would it hurt? “Fuck that disappointing dinkie winkie.”
“Well done. Now, are you going to have dessert? Bring back that gorgeous ass of yours and those scrumptious thighs?”
“Yes. I am.”
His face was filled with approval.
She liked that look.
“But you still aren’t staying the night,” she told him.
