Page 102 of Love Me Stalk Me
"No, you're not."
She huffs, rolling her eyes. "Yes, I am, Cal. I'm too heavy."
I stare at her. "No, you're not."
"I am," she argues, and her voice shifts slightly, like she's repeating something she's heard many times. "Evan says?—"
I feel a spark of actual rage.
"Oh, well if Evan says it, it must be true," I say, voice flat.
She hesitates, her fingers unconsciously touching her side where her shirt clings. "I just—I've gained a lot of weight recently, okay? Like thirty pounds in the last three years. I'm heavier than I look."
Something in me snaps.
Enough.
Before she can say another word, I step forward, bend down, and grip her beautiful, juicy thighs.
She yelps, the sound echoing in the small kitchen.
And then, effortlessly, I hoist her up over my shoulder.
She lets out a full-blown shriek. "CALLAHAN?—"
I savor the way she feels in my arms. She’s all heat and give, her thighs molding easily to the grip of my hands. The curves that finance boy apparently finds so problematic? They're fucking perfect in my hands.
She's squirming, and it's making me hard.
I tighten my grip on her as she kicks her feet, laughing but also half-panicked. Her hands press against my back, fingers splaying over my muscles.
"Put me down!" she yells.
"Not until you admit you're not heavy," I say, adjusting my grip, enjoying the way she feels in my arms, the way she molds against me. The way her hips fill my hands, the soft give of her thighs against my shoulder. Christ, she's perfect.
"Callahan!" she whines, kicking again. "Put medown, you psycho!"
"Admit it."
"I'm—this is ridiculous!"
"I'll hold you here all day," I say, grinning against the side of her hip. "In fact, if you don't admit it soon, I might just start doing some squats."
She scoffs. "You wouldn't."
I drop into a squat, her weight pressing against my shoulders—and then I power right back up. Her body is substantial in the best possible way, all soft curves and warmth, but nowhere near as heavy as she thinks.
She shrieks. "OH MY GOD, CALLAHAN?—"
I do it again.
And again.
And again.
She grabs onto my back, clinging to me for dear life, her nails digging in. The slight sting only adds to the satisfaction.
"STOP IT," she yells, laughing now.
