Page 117 of You, As You Are

Maisie read seven chapters of her book whilst Iain got another billion rows of the baby blanket done. They sat on the steps of the decking up to their cabin and tossed a ball around the small clearing for Ted until the sun went down, which unfortunately resulted in the poor creature having to endure his third wash of the day. After another meal of shop-bought shepherd’s pie baked in the cabin’s microwave, Maisie left Iain to his own devices and finally went for the warm shower she’d been craving.

She didn’t intend to stare in the mirror for so long whilst her phone hummed old jazz tunes in the background, but she did. After years of work, she’d learned to look at herself with love and an objectiveness that saw none of herself as flawed. She was who she was, and she was proud.

Were her breasts bigger than most women’s? Yes. Did they sit low on her ribcage with one more lopsided than the other? Yes to that too. Was her belly bumpy and soft and were her thighs the kind of thickness a man like Iain would need both his hands to grip? Yes. That hope was the reason why she twisted herself at awkward angles when she showered, bumping her bum against the wall every time she tried to bend, and made her legs silky smooth.

If there was any possibility of something happening tonight while they slept in the same bed, then Maisie wanted to give herself the best chance of keeping her self-confidence as high as it was when she was alone.

She tiptoed out of the bathroom dressed in her button-down pyjamas and shorts, only to find Iain stretched out and relaxed on the bed with her book in his lap.

“Are you enjoying that?”

His eyes whipped up out of the pages. “You like the things this man does in here?”

“He does do them rather well.”

“Excessively,” he uttered.

She twisted her hands together in front of herself, unsure of how she would sound saying, “I’m ready to go to bed.” Evidently like she was trying to kick him out, because Iain closed the book and set it down beside him.

“I can sleep on the floor,” he said, moving to get up.

Maisie let out half a nervous laugh. “That’s not necessary.”

Iain gave her a look that said otherwise as he shuffled off the bed. “It is for my own sanity.”

What wasthatsupposed to mean? Maisie’s brow was pinched tight as he took one of the pillows and the blanket from the settee and laid them out down on the floor.

Was he actually going to …Had he changed his mind about her? about how patient he was willing to be? The way he’d been casually touching her all day – it made Maisie want this new footing between them to go somewhere tonight.

She’d been a steadily simmering pot on a low boil waiting for hours to see what the cover of darkness might bring, and now it felt like he’d switched off the gas.

“You can tell me if you don’t want to sleep with me.” She sounded stung, even to her own ears.

Iain was in front of her in half a second, looking down at her with fire in his eyes. “I can assure you that there is absolutely no inch of you that I don’t want to see, touch, kiss, or fuck. Do you understand?” Her breath caught. “Though I won’t do any of that until you’re standing in front of me completely sure that your comfort is my priority.”

She already was sure.

He cupped her cheek and brushed his thumb across her lips. “You’re too damn tempting, and I’m trying to have control.”

For his sanity.Maisie understood that now. It would be easier on their senses to keep a little distance between them tonight. But what if she didn’t want to?

“Earlier, was that just … a moment?” she asked, failing to tame her racing pulse.

“Not for me, Daff.” Iain’s warmth was like a blanket. “This stopped being pretend for me. I don’t know where, or when, but it did.”

She’d asked him already what this new change between them was – friends with benefits? something more? – and he hadn’t given her a straight answer. Maisie supposed that neither of them knew yet what this was. It was easier to be safe than do something they might regret in the morning.

Iain stepped back from her. His eyes gave her a once over, the thumb he’d touched her lips with going to his own as he turned and lowered down to his make-shift bed.

Flicking off the overhead light switch and leaving the bedside lamp on, Maisie got under her own duvet. The space felt so much bigger without him – like there was something missing. Her body craved to have him, and for once she wanted to listen to it.

She picked up the book she’d caught him with. “Which part did you read?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Iain grumbled from the floor.

“Where he’s kissing her?”

“Mais—”

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