Page 155 of After Hours

It sucks to feel like you’re never going to be enough, and Dillon has no idea how it feels to never be enough. He’s always what everyone wants. I read in the comments, and I don’t know why it’s affecting me more now than it was. Tears flowed freely, and I became a sobbing mess.

“I’m just tired of never feeling like I’m enough,” I wept.

Dillon comforted me, running his hand through my hair and holding me as if I were a baby. “Not enough for who? Who’s making you feel this way?”

I completely broke down telling him everything and I felt sick to my stomach that I was letting the negativity bother me.

He remained silent until my crying subsided, and I whimpered. “Look into my eyes,” he commanded. I lifted my head from its slumped position and met his gaze.

He gently cupped my face with his hands, his thumbs wiping away my tears. “I love you. I love all of you. I love your curly hair and your brown skin. You’re more than enough for me. There isn’t a day I spend with you that my heart doesn’t race. You’re far more remarkable than you can imagine. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes, and if you did, you’d never doubt yourself again. I remind you every day of your beauty. Having some extra weight is perfectly normal, and it’s not a flaw. You are my precious Azzaria. Don’t forget that.” He brought our lips together, and this time, my tears were those of happiness. He filled me with immense joy, a feeling I needed to hold onto.

“We’ll head to bed now, and when you wake up, we’ll run a nice warm bath for you and figure out the day, alright?”

I nodded, and he cuddled me until we drifted off to sleep. His gentle and caring demeanor was something I treasured, especially when I doubted myself.

Sometimes, a good cry and vent session was the best way to fall asleep. Dillon was still cuddled on top of me, and his hand was resting on my breast.

“Feeling better?” Dillon asked in his deep, rich voice. His sleepy voice was one of my favorite sounds, aside from his moans.

“I am, thank you,” I replied with a yawn. “What’s that smirk for?”

“Come here,” he said, patting his lap. I climbed over to him and sat in a straddling position. “You’re the only woman who can go to sleep and wake up looking like an angel,” he complimented and kissed me.

Every day, I found myself melting in his arms. “We have dinner, and then we’re going to a club,” I told him.

“Get ready, but I’ll be driving because I don’t like the way the driver looks at you,” he warned.

Rolling my eyes at him, I walked into the bathroom to take a shower and tend to my hair and makeup. I had the perfect outfit in mind, and I was grateful that Mara had convinced me to buy it.

I put my hair in a high ponytail, ensuring that the curls stayed wet and bouncy by spritzing with conditioner-infused water.

We had two bathrooms, so Dillon took the other one to get ready. He went through his skincare routine, gelled his hair, and pampered himself just as I did. My toiletries took up most of the counter space, so he had to shift to the other side.

Stepping into the shower, the Italian water felt distinct, richer and purer. I have to admit, this hotel was truly impressive. The amenities and prices were perfect, but then again, my man owns it. I stepped out of the bath, donned my robe, and made my way to the vanity to do my makeup.

I had initially intended for a lighter touch with makeup, but no matter how hard I tried, I always ended up with a full face.

“You look gorgeous,” Dillon said, walking into the room while still naked, his towering presence filling the space.

“Go get dressed,” I said to him as I applied my lashes.

“I’m going,” he replied, “I just came in here to get an extra towel. By the way, you look incredibly hot,” he whistled and playfully slapped my ass. I tossed my blush brush at him, and we laughed together.

After another hour spent on blending, baking, and beating, I was finally ready.

Before leaving the bathroom, I applied a matte red lip and grabbed my clutch purse, which Dillon would be holding all night.

“I’m ready!” I announced as I walked out of the bathroom.

Dillon’s reaction was as expected; his jaw dropped, and he couldn’t take his eyes off me. “Alright, let—Holy Shit. You look gorgeous, baby!” he gushed, his excitement evident.

“Thank you, thank you. I feel gorgeous,” I replied, savoring this rare moment of self-confidence.

“I just hope men keep their hands to themselves tonight,” Dillon grumbled.

“And if they don’t?” I challenged.

“I know how to make a murder look like an accident. Let’s go.” We interlocked our hands, locked the hotel door, and went into the town for dinner.

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