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Finally, he pulled back enough to murmur against my lips, “Not a word, wench.”
One more firm kiss and he stepped back, slammed the door, and walked around to the driver’s side.
Seated, buckled, and in gear, he gave me a big grin.
“I’m not some Neanderthal douche in general but I’m going to shut any of thatKevin’s womanbullshit down so there are no questions. You’re fucking wonderful. Buckle up.”
Then we were off.
I don’t remember much of the drive itself. Jack kept me off balance every time he changed gears by resting his large hand on my knee.
The fine silk of my stocking was no barrier to the heat that poured off him or to the rapidly rising worry I had about taking it (and everything else) off.
“Tell me about your friends, your work. Distract me from the desire to pull over for more of your mouth, Petra.”
Men didn’ttalkto me like this. They just didn’t. The fact that he seemed to want me so much made me nervous.
I covered it, as I do, with bravado and sarcasm.
“My friends are nuts. Wecurvygirls gravitate to other oddballs like ourselves.”
He glanced at me and back at the road. “Why do you say it like that?”
The question confused me. “Say what?”
“Curvy. Like you’re apologizing for it.”
Turning a bit in my seat, I frowned. “Jack, you’re not new to this planet. Being dicks to non-skinny people is literally the last acceptable prejudice. People like me areexpectedto apologize or, you know, get with the program.”
Keeping his eyes primarily on the road (which I appreciated), he cut his eyes to me for a moment.
“People like you…”
To my shock, he turned into a Publix grocery store parking lot. It was closed but there were still cars parked around it.
Putting the SUV in park, he turned to me and put his hand on the back of my seat.
I didn’t know where this was going.
“You think you’re fat.”
For him to boldly say such a thing threw me off my usualwitty comebackroutine. “Medically, I’m…”
“No. I don’t give a fuck what some ambiguous chart says while lumping everyone together and discarding individual traits. I care whatyouthink andyouthink you’re fat.”
I clutched my fingers together. “Jack.” I swallowed carefully and hated how I felt. “Why are we talking about this?”
“Howyouthink about yourself matters, beauty.” His palm slid along the side of my neck.
“I…”had no clue what to say.
“Before the sun comes up, you’re going to understand how wrong your thinking on this particular subject has been. I want you to see yourself the wayIsee you.” His fingers massaged my skin. “The wayIsee you, Petra.”
Then he pulled me to him for another kiss that pushed my ache for him higher.
Resting his forehead against mine, he murmured, “I need to stop touching you for twenty minutes.” He pulled back and placed my palm on his thigh, his hand over it. “You have oddball friends. Tell me about them.”
I cleared my throat, strangely emotional. “Alright.”
