Page 34 of Love Takes Home

“That you’re interested. Intrigued. A little scared. Maybe a little turned on.”

“I wouldn’t really know what that feels like,” I admit quietly.

“Well, that’s a discussion for another day. Tonight, we focus on my favorite topic. You.”

“No,” I laugh nervously.

“Oh, yes.” He checks me out in the mirror, scanning me from head to toe. “I think we’ll start here,” he finally announces.

“Where?”

“You can’t see this back, but I can,” he whispers in my ear. “It’s muscular and strong. Because I’ve seen you at the gym lifting weights, I know how strong you are.”

The tips of his fingers trail down my spine, making me jolt at both the contact and the information. How has he seen me at the gym and I’ve never seen him? And, oh, God, does that mean he’s watched me workout and get all sweaty and gross? Ugh. If I had any chance of a shot with him before, that’s gone now.

He reaches for the hem of my school shirt, lifting it slowly, never breaking eye contact with me. Silently asking permission that I grant. I’m too stunned that this man is taking off my clothes to stop him. I’m too turned on to be mortified. Once my shirt has been removed, I’m standing in front of him in only my bra, and he massages my shoulders. I can’t help the sigh I release, but my breath catches as he speaks again.

“These shoulders and arms? They carry instruments with ease. I’ve watched you play your cello for hours and not get tired. The talent you have should be shared with the world, Ginny. It’s haunting and beautiful. Soulful and mesmerizing. You can play for hours, but I’d never tire of watching.”

I stare at him through the mirror, my mouth open, but still unable to say anything. Why is he doing this? When his eyes move down my body, I automatically try to raise my hands to cover myself. I’m not naked, but this is too much. He stops me, pulling my hands away.

“I’m not going to take it off…yet.”

“Because you don’t want to see them?” Of course, he doesn’t want to see them. They’re mine.

“No, Beautiful. Because when you show those glorious tits to me, I want it to be because it’s what you want to do, and not something you’ll regret later. Your decision.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that the negative words in your head about what I do and don’t want to do with and to you need to be sorted out before I act on those things. Besides, we have more body parts to discuss.”

My eyes scan farther down my body. My jeans sit right at my waist, my love handles clear in the mirror. Ugh. Who wants to see that? My stomach is too big, my hips too wide.

“Stop,” he whispers.

“Huh?” I come back to myself, my eyes snapping to his.

“You aren’t listening, Beautiful.”

“To what?”

“To what I’m saying. You’re only hearing the negative words in your head, and I’m trying to quiet them.”

“How do you know what’s going on in my head?”

“Your face, Ginny. You are telling me everything with just your face.”

“And what’s it saying right now?”

“You cringed when you looked down your torso. Your eyes immediately went to your stomach and then your hips. If you had eyes in the back of your head, they’d have looked at your ass, too.” He leans in so close I can feel the fabric of his shirt on my bare shoulders. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

I bite my lip, knowing my eyes are betraying me again by watering. “I can’t,” I admit, not even sure if it was out loud.

“You don’t have to, because I’m going to tell you how wrong you are. I’m going to touch you again. If you don’t want me to, tell me to stop.” He wraps his arms around me from behind, his hands resting on my stomach at the top button of my jeans.

Goose bumps rise on my arms, and I involuntarily suck in my gut, logically knowing the jeans already do that and give up, blowing out a big breath of air. Doesn’t help with the watering eyes.

“Why are you doing this?”

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