How can she dwell on a little extra cushion so much?
Doesn’t she understand it makes any sane man want to fuck her into next year?
“Ethan—”
“Did I say you could talk yet? Do you want to know what I see?” I jerk her closer so her body goes flush against mine. All the voices in my head telling me to stop are missing. “I see a gorgeous woman I can’t forget. She has curves for miles, roads to filthy fantasies every man dreams of.”
The way she gasps makes me think I’ve gone too far.
But when her eyes meet mine, they’re molten.
I don’t think, I just keep going.
“She has lethal hips and breasts to die for. Everything I’ve been dying to touch ever since I saw you again for this ridiculous agreement. You, Hattie, are Grade A jerk material. And I don’t want to hear you fretting about your weight or any of your mother’s bullshit as long as we’re together.”
She doesn’t say anything.
She just looks at me with wide, disbelieving eyes.
So I do the only thing I can think of to make her believe me—I hook my hand around the back of her neck and jerk her face to mine.
The kiss isn’t gentle.
With her, I’ve forgotten how to be.
Days of stinging repressed need erupt at once, and I run my hands up and down that lush curve of her hips, squeezing, digging my fingers into her flesh.
I can’t believe she could ever think she’s less than perfect.
“You’re lying. That’s kind of you, trying to build me up, but Ethan, you don’t have to.”
“I wouldn’t change a thing,” I bite off, my mouth still against hers, my words lost against her tongue. “Not one fucking thing, Pages.”
With a moan of surrender, she gives in, melting against my chest as my hands pull fistfuls of expensive fabric and I rip that infernal dress off her shoulders.
11
ALL THE RUIN (HATTIE)
Everything is happening too fast, but also not fast enough.
One minute, I’m being dressed by a bunch of brilliant women moving like speed demons who compliment me on my future husband and how beautiful I look, all while they’re fussing over me in the mirror and ignoring every flaw.
The next, Ethan’s hands are on me.
Lightning swift, possessive, peeling the gorgeous dress away and devouring my mouth with pure intoxication.
Holy hell.
I can’t think straight to save my life.
Some dormant part of my brain flashes, warning we should stop, but I don’t want to.
Let’s be real—no part of mewantsto.
He nips my bottom lip, and when I lean back to look at him, his eyes are blue dusk lit by fire, his red mouth parted and breathing too fast.
Animal.