Thank you, God, for giving this man to me.
I remained silent, and he gripped my hair a little harder. “I want you to move to the end of the bed. When you get there, I want you to stand with your back to it and place your hands out so they are resting on the mattress.”
The control in his voice, and the commanding tone he took, turned me on and called to a need I never knew I had before I met him - the need to hand control over to someone else.
I did as he said and waited silently at the end of the bed. He took his time, and when he finally stood in front of me, he held two pairs of my panties. Reaching for one of my hands, he tied it to one of the bedposts before repeating this with my other hand. Then he slid his hand around my neck and through my hair so he was holding my head. Dipping his face to mine, he bruised my lips with a demanding kiss. God, I loved the way he kissed me. It signaled his possessiveness over me, and while I knew a lot of women who weren’t into feeling possessed by a man, I now realised I craved a man who needed me in that manner.
He ended the kiss, and brought his hands to my breasts. Massaging them, he said, “Fuck, your body is gorgeous, sweetheart. Why do you ever doubt that?” His eyes were focused completely on mine while he waited for me to answer his question.
I swallowed back my hesitation. This part of my soul was a part I chose to avoid as best I could. “I don’t know,” I said softly, not wanting to admit to him the truth.
His eyes narrowed on me. “I don’t believe you. Tell me.”
Shame washed over me, and I wished I could break free of his restraints and run far away from this question. “I don’t want to.”
He held his tongue for a beat, and then he kissed me again. When he pulled away from my face, his eyes were softer. Taking a step back, he let his gaze drop to my body and took it all in. Slowly.
Usually, I liked his eyes on me, but today, I felt so self-conscious in my own skin now that he’d put the focus on me that I dropped my face and refused to watch him looking at me. I couldn’t do it. All my feelings of being inadequate and fat rushed at me – bad memories I wanted to bury deep and never think about again.
And, oh God, then he dropped to his knees in front of me, put his hands on my hips, and pressed his mouth to my stomach, and kissed me. He spent a few moments kissing my stomach before moving his lips all over my body, kissing every inch of skin. His hands ran all over me, too, and he kept murmuring over and over how fucking beautiful I was.
When he made his way to my mouth, he looked into my eyes and said, “Tell me why you believe what I see when I look at you isn’t a beautiful body.”
He’s not going to let this go.
I closed my eyes as my heart beat faster, and my breaths quickened. When I opened them again, tears sat on my eyelashes. “I’ve always seen myself as fat, even when I was a nine-year-old kid who was far from fat. My mother was always on a diet when I lived with her, and everywhere I looked on television and in magazines, they talked about counting calories and not letting yourself get fat. So I began counting calories at the age of about twelve. And then, I did become a little overweight, but instead of counting calories, I just kept eating.” My voice cracked as I admitted the sad truth of my hurt. “It made me feel good when nothing else in my life did. I don’t know why, and I’ve never worked it out, but it is what it is. About five years ago, when the doctor told me I was obese, I finally took control and lost the weight. It was one of the hardest things I’ve ever done. And the really shitty thing? When you’re fat, you think that if you could just get skinny, it would make your whole life better, and everything else would improve. Well, it doesn’t. And you have to keep on top of it just as much as when you were trying to lose weight. It’s fucking hard.”
He listened to everything I said and didn’t say a word.
I want to die.
I’d just laid my soul out for him, and he wasn’t saying anything.
I’d never felt so vulnerable in my life – naked in front of a man with my heart bleeding all over the place.
And then he placed his hand to my stomach. His face grew fierce, and his eyes burned with fire. “I don’t care what the fuck anyone ever tells you again, you are the most beautiful woman I have ever laid eyes on. Here,” he gripped my stomach, before placing his hand to my chest over my heart, “and here. You have that rare thing a lot of women don’t, sweetheart – an outer beauty that matches your inner beauty. I never want to see you counting fucking calories again. I want you to eat the goddamn fucking chips every fucking time I take you to that diner, and I don’t want you to put makeup on or do your hair when I take you there.” He paused for a moment before speaking in a forceful manner. “Please believe every word I am saying because they are all the honest fucking truth.”
If I wasn’t tied to the bed, I was sure I would have collapsed onto the floor and sobbed. Instead, I sagged against him and he held me while I cried. He reached out and untied me before wrapping his arms around me and letting me get all my tears out.
He thought he didn’t know how to love people. He was so wrong.
Griff’s compassion and kindness blared from him.
When I’d finished crying, I looked up at him and smiled. “I’m sorry, I kinda ruined the sex, didn’t I?”
With one arm firmly around my back, supporting me, he used his other hand to wipe my tears away. “Baby, no way am I not fucking you tonight, but I’ll keep the balls for another time.” His eyes darkened and he said, “I want you on the bed.”