Page 19 of Hold Your Breath

“Don’t get dressed on my behalf. I happen to really like the view.”

I open my mouth, but snap it shut. My first instinct is to throw back a sarcastic comeback, but this time I don’t. “Well... thank you.”

Seriously, Willow. You thanked him?!I slap my hand over my face and he chuckles.

“We came in a day early to enjoy the quiet before your family arrives and bombards Micah with all the questions.”

“Good plan. They can be full-on. But as much as Micah hates me, I will have his back.”

Jace’s brows furrow. “He doesn’t hate you—not even close.”

Now it’s my turn to frown, but before I can ask what he means, he changes the subject. “Now, what were you doing storming around the house in a towel? You looked furious.”

“I was. I had an epiphany of sorts. My mom is always telling me to dress respectfully for my size and to cover my legs because I have cellulite, and I just thought,fuck it. So I was looking for scissors.”

He nods. “What does dress for your size even mean? I understand you’re not tiny, but you are beautiful and should be able to dress in whatever makes you comfortable. Though I wouldn’t suggest having your ass hanging out at Easter lunch, but I’m all for that in general.”

I snort and wonder why Micah hasn’t introducedme to him before the chair incident. Then I remember it’s because my stepbrother doesn’t like me.

“Would it be okay if I helped you? A second opinion could be insightful.”

Shyly, I nod. “Do you think Micah would be okay with that, since you’re his boyfriend?”

Jace smiles at me. “Babe, you leave Micah to me. Let me find the scissors and maybe you could put some clothes on. All that skin is making me hard.”

My face goes bright red, and before I can further embarrass myself, I scurry back to my room and slam the door. I swear I hear Jace chuckle.

Throwing on whatever clothes I can find, I make sure I look presentable. I don’t know why, maybe it’s because Micah and his friends are the first men who didn’t make me feel uncomfortable in my skin, besides my masked men. I scoff at myself—mymasked men. I guess that has ended since my stepbrother has arrived early.

Once I’m dressed, I lay my outfit for Easter on the bed. A soft knock has me looking at the door, and Jace walks in, snipping the scissors in the air.

“Found some,” he says with a smile. “Now, what are we doing with them?” He walks over to the bed and looks down at the clothes. “What’s wrong with thisoutfit?”

I glance over at him and shrug. “I don’t know... it covers a lot of skin.”

Jace stares down at the ensemble a moment longer. “Okay, so first let’s get rid of these. You don’t need them; your legs are killer.” He picks up the stockings and throws them toward my suitcase. “The dress is pretty, so we can keep that.”

He then picks up the white long-sleeved shirt I was going to cut the arms off partway and tosses it in the direction of the stockings.

“But...” I whisper, and he looks over at me. “What about my arms?”

He raises a brow at me. “What about them? Are arms provocative?”

I chuckle at that. “No, but mine wobble.” Like an idiot, I hold my arm up and jiggle it to show him, and he laughs.

“Who cares? I don’t think I have ever walked past a woman and looked at her arms to see if they wobble. Plus, with no shirt, the dress will make your tits pop.”

“Do I want my tits to pop at Easter dinner?”

“My motto is: if you’ve got it, flaunt it.”

“What about if I get cold?”

Jace rubs his chin and then clicks his fingers, pulling his phone from his pocket. “Can you bring me my denim jacket to Willow’s room?”

He ends the call, and I open my mouth, ready totell him there is no way his clothes will fit me. “What shoes are you wearing?” he asks, interrupting my train of thought.

“I was thinking these,” I say, showing him my tan ankle boots.

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