Page 44 of Misadventures of a Curvy Girl
“I love you back,” I mumble against Caleb’s skin. “I think I’ve been in love with the both of you since the first day too.”
I’m rewarded for this admission, squeezed and kissed and loved on. Petted and stroked until I feel all spoiled again.
“You haven’t answered us about moving in,” Ben says. “Why? Is it work? Family?”
I can work remotely, and I would probably pay money to not see my sister, so it’s not either of those things. But I’m not really sure what it is either. Some kind of lingering insecurity, maybe? This stubborn doubt that I don’t really belong with them because of my body?
I hate these gross thoughts. I banish them to the back of my mind and try to focus on what I know instead—Caleb and Ben love me and I love them, and there’s no practical reason keeping me from moving in other than that it’s fast and this relationship is still so new. Well, that and one person in our bed can’t seem to stay there for the whole night.
Maybe this is my chance to be brave…and to nudge Ben into bravery along with me.
“I’ll say yes,” I decide, “if Ben can sleep the whole night with us.”
Behind me, Ben’s body goes still and stonelike. “Pardon?” he asks, as if he didn’t hear correctly.
“I think you heard me,” I reply gently. “If we can find a way for you to sleep through the night with us, I’ll move in.”
Chapter Sixteen
Ben
Ireland is looking at me over her shoulder, her blue eyes clear and serious, and Caleb’s looking at me the same way. All concern and desire. It makes my chest tighten, and I stand up to get some space while I think.
“I didn’t think anyone cared much one way or the other,” I say, going over to the counter and bracing my hands against it. I take a few deep breaths, trying to organize my thoughts, which are currently in a defensive swirl. “It’s not like we fuck any less because I sleep alone.”
“It’s not about fucking,” Ireland says, and I hear her stand up and walk over to me. She slides her hands around my waist and leans her head against my back, molding her curves to me.
It feels so good. Good enough that I realize how tense my body is, as if I’m fortifying myself against some kind of danger.
I inhale, forcing myself to remember that I’m here, not in Marjah listening to the sporadic crackle of bullets and the distant thuds of mortar shells. I’m here at the farm with the two people I love. Two people I’m trying to love better than I have been.
“I have trouble sleeping,” I admit, and even that admission is harder than it should be. I don’t know why, when Ireland’s arguably seen the worst of my baggage already, but I can’t stand that I’m not able to do something as normal as sleep with the people I love—or hell, sleep properly at all. It makes me feel juvenile and antisocial and abnormal, and I hate it.
But Ireland deserves the truth, and I made promises to her that I plan on keeping.
I take a deep breath and keep going. “It’s hard to get to sleep, and I have nightmares when I do. Bad nightmares that leave me sweaty and thrashing and kicking. The TV and lights help sometimes but not always. I want to sleep with you two—God, I want to so much—but I’m terrified of hurting you while I’m dreaming—and on top of that, it’s not fair to make your sleep worse just so I can share a bed with you. You deserve rest.”
“And you don’t?” Ireland murmurs.
I make an impatient noise. “Not if it makes it harder for you to sleep!”
“I can handle myself,” she says stubbornly.
“Me too,” says a deep voice next to me. I look up into the soft-green eyes of my best friend and lover.
“It’s not that easy,” I say. “I don’t even like being around myself at night. I would never ask someone else to be.”
“But you’re not asking. We are.” Ireland squeezes me tighter and then slips under my arm so she can peer up into my face. “Please, Ben? Can we try it?”
What man on earth could resist these hopeful big blue eyes? This soft, pouting mouth? I’m nothing but weakness when it comes to her, and I think she knows it because her pleading expression starts looking more and more triumphant the longer we stare at each other.
Finally I
heave a giant breath. “Okay,” I agree, and I know I sound reluctant as fuck—because I am. “We’ll try tonight. And then you’ll move in with us.”
The firmness in my words leaves no room for argument, and it sounds more like a military command than a boyfriend asking someone he loves to share his life. But I don’t care. I don’t care at all because she gives me a sweet smile and an even sweeter “Yes, Ben.”
And then breakfast is left to cool on the table as we yank each other upstairs to fuck in the bed we’ll all share tonight.
