Page 29 of Endurance
The swells of her arse look positively edible beneath the smooth fabric of her nightie. Her dark hair hangs long and straight over her shoulder as she reaches into the lower drawer. Then she turns around with two brown bottles in her hands.
“Beer?” she asks, the bottles pressing against the tips of her breasts. My dick jolts with excitement as I place the food on the counter.
I reach out and take one from her, relishing in the sight of her firm nipple that the exchange of possession reveals. Fuck me, she’s stunning. She grabs a bottle opener off the fridge and pries the top off of her beer and then steps into my space to do mine. She smells like eighty different kinds of girlie shit all rolled into one mouthwatering bouquet. My lips quiver with need to taste her.
“I’m liking this side of you, Ryan.” I barely contain my crooked smile as I take a cooling drink from my bottle, wishing my lips were wrapping around something else.
“What side is that?” she asks, remaining so close to me I can feel her breath on my shoulder.
“The side that includes soft nighties.”
I reach out and trail the backs of my fingers down her ribs. She sucks in a sharp breath like she didn’t expect me to touch her. She doesn’t move away, though. Instead, she stands firmly rooted in her spot. Her body squirms beneath the fabric, warmth radiating in the wake of my touch.
She clears her throat, a surprising blush colouring her cheeks. “Well, it’s nearing my bedtime and I have to work tomorrow so I don’t know what you expected.”
She grabs the bags of food and waltzes out the kitchen door toward her dining room table. I watch her through the cutout opening, begging my dick to stand down. We haven’t even eaten yet.No need to embarrass yourself, Tanner.
When I walk out and sit down in the chair near her, she looks like she is trying to work something out in her head.
“Everything all right?” I ask as she opens the cartons and swaps the chopsticks for real forks.
Her head snaps up to look at me. “Just fine.”
She asks me which dish I want first. This is only the second meal I’ve eaten with Belle, but I’ve already noticed she doesn’t seem to care what she eats.
“Most girls are picky eaters,” I say, dunking a spring roll into a plastic cup of sweet and sour.
“Most girls don’t look like me.” She says it so matter-of-factly, I’m not sure I know what she means.
“Don’t they?”
She stops eating and narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t act like you don’t notice.”
“Notice what?” I ask around a mouthful of cabbage.
She scoffs.
“What?” I push.
“Tanner, I’m not a size eight. I’m a fourteen. And that’s during the months that I haven’t eaten my weight in chocolate. Stop skirting around it. It’s insulting.”
Her words stun me. Does she seriously think this way? I swallow. “What’s insulting is how you see yourself. It’s fucked up if you ask me.”
“You are so full of crap,” she snipes, stabbing the food in her carton like she’s trying to envision it as my eyeballs instead of the delicious Kung Pao chicken it is.
“How am I full of crap?” I drop my fork loudly and sit back, crossing my arms over my chest, impatiently waiting for her reply.
She spears me with a glare. “I’ve seen the women you shag.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“They are thin, Tanner!” She throws her head back. “I’m not. I’m the before picture for a weight loss challenge. I’m not ashamed of it, but I don’t appreciate you acting as if this isn’t reality.”
I shove my food away, annoyance pulsing through my veins. Does she seriously think of herself like that? She can’t. I won’t believe it.
“That can’t honestly be how you see yourself. If this is your way of fishing for a compliment—”
“Fishing for a compliment?” she screams and I swear I think she’s going to lunge across the table at me. “Why the fuck would I care whatyouthink? I don’t care that I’m fat. And I sure as hell don’t need your reassurances to feel good about myself. I know exactly what you think of me.”
