“You’ll laugh,” she says.
“I won’t.”
She looks out the window, then returns her gaze to me. She has a determined sort of set to her lips, sassy and bratty at the same time but also tinged with anxiety. There’s so much of her to explore, not just physically, but so many layers to discover.
“I want to make clothes,” she says. “Well, design and make them. I haven’t worked it all out yet. All I know is, when I’m with my sewing machine working on some silly project, I feel…at peace, I guess. I feel relaxed. I don’t feel like I’m running in place. I know that makes no sense.”
“It makes sense,” I snarl. “You don’t feel like you have to think about a million different things. It’s this, just this, and nothing else.”
She flinches, nodding. “Yeah, that’s it exactly.”
I smirk. “That’s how I feel when I’m with you, Fiona. That’s how I know.”
She waves a hand as she laughs. I don’t tell her I’m being serious, even if I am.
When I’m with my mystery girl, nothing else exists.
“So why did you start?” I ask.
“See, this is the thing,” she says. “I honestly can’t remember specifically. It was sometime when I was a kid after I moved in with Rachel. Maybe I read something or heard something. I don’t know. But one day, I started tearing apart their curtains to try and make a dress. Rachel’s parents were not pleased, but they bought me some crafts supplies and since then….”
She shrugs cutely.
“It’s been on and off for years. But now, buying the sewing machine, I consider that a definite step, you know? I’m going to try and make something happen. What it’ll be, what shape it will take, I’m not really sure yet.”
“You’re going to be a massive success,” I tell her firmly.
“Oh, right…,” she says, rolling her eyes. “And how would you know that?”
“Because I can see how passionate you are. I can feel how passionate you are. You want this, so you’ll make it happen. I mean, hell, just look at what happened with us. You had a crush on the grumpy old CEO, and you made that happen.”
I swear, I could live on this woman’s laughter. It bolsters me. It fills me up.
“That’s a little different,” she says. “I don’t think becoming a successful fashion designer will be as easy as stealing a phone number.”
“At least you didn’t deny having a crush on me,” I tease.
She looks at me plainly, with no nervousness, no hesitation, staring hard. “I would never deny that. I had a major crush on you.”
The comment has my insides howling. She looks so sexy, so on-the-edge confident, like she’s afraid of getting knocked down but is taking the risk anyway.
“I would’ve had one on you too,” I say. “If I’d seen you.”
The car inches up the road as we glide behind the traffic. My woman turns her face to the glass, her hand coming up to cover her cheek. It’s like she has to protect herself from the compliments as if she can’t simply take them.
It makes me want to hurt any bastard who told her she wasn’t beautiful.
She gasps and turns to me. Her mouth fell open, and her eyes couldn’t be wider, brimming with something that will change me. Everything seems charged, the moment sparking.
It hits me. I said that out loud.
“I would,” I snarl. I can’t go back now. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever met. I can’t believe you’ve never been told that before.”
“I have, by Rachel. But not by any boys, men, anybody…I always thought I was too, you know….”
“What?” I glance at her, reading her expression, and my gut wrenches. “Curvy?”
She nods.
“You could never be too curvy,” I tell her with a fierce flame in my voice, my tone growing dark.
I imagine those motherfuckers again, anybody who ever bullied her, who looked at her like she was nothing. I imagine those bastards who told her she couldn’t be like other girls, whatever the hell that means.
She deserves to feel wanted.
But only by me.
“Your curviness is what makes you so sexy,” I go on with a deep note of yearning in my voice. “It drives me crazy. It….”
I can’t stop myself anymore.
Turning, I lean toward my mystery girl.
She makes the cutest noise as my lips collide with hers, a little gasping breath like she can’t believe it. But then she relaxes into it, our lips moving together, a moan replacing the gasp.
I grunt and move closer, attracted by the heat of her mouth, the nervous excitement on her tongue. The tips of our tongues flare together, clashing, sending nerves all around my body. My cock gets the brunt of them, stiffening even more in my pants. It’s rock-hard and ready to erupt inside of her.
She places her hand on my chest, panting. “I’m sorry.”