“Coffee cake?” I ask, stepping inside.
He glances up and offers a small smile. “I thought Layla wouldn’t go for it, so I didn’t bring it out after dinner. But you mentioned earlier this week it’s your favourite.”
I blink, caught off guard by the thoughtfulness of the gesture. “You remembered that?”
He shrugs, his gaze flicking briefly to the table. “Seemed worth remembering.”
I sit down, the warmth of the tea comforting against my fingers as I cradle the mug. The coffee cake looks so yummy. I let out a little laugh, half-embarrassed. “With my curves, I really shouldn’t.”
The words slip out before I think better of it. I don’t usually dwell on my size—I’ve come to terms with it over the years, learned to love my body for what it is. But everyso often, a flicker of self-doubt creeps in, especially when I’m around someone like Jon. A man who seems, by all accounts, like the type who’d be better suited to someone thinner, more polished.
Jon’s eyes narrow slightly, his voice firm but not unkind. “Don’t say that.”
I glance at him, surprised by the quiet intensity in his tone.
“There’s nothing wrong with your curves,” he continues, his gaze steady on mine. “On the contrary.”
His words land softly but powerfully, unravelling the thread of doubt in my mind. I let out a shaky laugh, brushing my hair behind my ear. “That’s kind of you to say.”
“It’s not kindness,” he says, cutting a forkful of his own cake. “It’s the truth. And if I ever hear you putting yourself down like that again, I’ll… well, I’ll may just have to spank that delicious round arse of yours.”
I gasp but then burst out laughing, the sound easing the tension I didn’t realise had built in my chest. “You wouldn’t dare.”
His lips quirk into a smirk. “Try me.”
After we had another long chat where he told me about his colleagues from the trip, those that survived and the driver that lost his life, we clear our dishes away.
Jon steps up behind me as I rinse the last plate and slides his arms around my hips.
“Didn’t someone need to get shown how much I love these curves,” he whispers huskily.
"I think you'd better show me then," I tease back, leaning against him and wiggling my bum slightly.
His hands tighten on my waist for a moment before he lets go, stepping away from me with an almost regretful expression.
"Come on upstairs," he says softly. "I want to make you feel good."
I can't help but shiver at the intensity in his eyes and nod silently at him, leaving the dishes half-washed in my eagerness to follow him out of the kitchen. We reach the landing and Jon glances over his shoulder at me with a knowing smile before pushing open the door to my bedroom.
The minute the door clicks shut behind us, Jon's strong arms wrap around me from behind and I gasp as he nuzzles my neck. His lips brush over my sensitive flesh as he murmurs against me.
"Do you know how fucking sexy you are, Abby?" he asks huskily. "All these curves... all mine."
A moan escapes my lips at his words, desire flooding through me. It's been too long since I've felt this desired, this wanted.
"Take off your clothes," he growls.
My heart races as I quickly strip off my clothes, tossing them aside haphazardly. Jon watches with hungry eyes, drinking in every inch of my bare skin on display for him.
"Fuck," he groans appreciatively. "You're perfect."
He steps back for a moment to shed his own clothes, and I'm treated to the sight of his hard, muscular body before me. My mouth waters with anticipation, craving his touch.
He takes off his glasses and places them on the chest of drawers. Fuck, he’s hot with the glasses, but when he takes them off, it makes me downright giddy. It’s like a Supermanmoment—he transforms from a grumpy doctor into my own personal bedroom god.
“Can you see without them?” The minute the words are out, I want to kick myself.What a stupid question to ask, Abby!
“Don’t worry, Sunshine, I can see all of your beauty. Glasses or no glasses,” he growls.Fuck, that’s hot!