Page 42 of Surrender

“N-nothing.” I bite my lip and shift my gaze away. Please just let him continue. “Keep going.”

A forearm lands beside my head. I shift my attention back to his face. Except rather than a few feet of distance between us, he’s only inches away. His naked torso hovers above mine.

“Tell me what happened.”

The way I’m panting dries my lips. I lick them to buy time. “I was married.”

He nods once. Sharply.

“I, um, I haven’t done this since before then. And it’s just thatI’vechangedalot.”

His dark eyebrows snap together. “What was that?”

“I’ve changed a lot. I don’tlookthe way I used to before I had kids.”

I stop breathing as he drags his gaze slowly down my body to my leggings.

“You do know thinking of you with the body of a teenager doesn’t turn me on, right?”

“I know. It’s just that I’m softer now.”

“That’s what I fucking like,” he growls. His palm settles hot and heavy on my lower stomach, over the pooch that still hasn’t gone away despite Bennett being six months old. The skin hangs a bit loose and round. “This is nothing to hide. It’s gorgeous. Every inch of you.”

My eyes sting with how gentle he’s being.

With a look of concentration on his face, he drops back down to hover above my body and touches his lips to my belly button. My breath catches as he traces a thick stretch mark with a placid fingertip.

“These stretch marks tell a story. So full of meaning and life.” His tongue follows the white jagged blemish along my skin, not stopping until he reaches the top of my leggings. He pays special attention to each one with his mouth, worshipping the lines until I’m a writhing mess beneath him.

He drags my leggings off, parts my thighs, and slips his shoulders between them. The calluses on his fingertips scrape along my calf, slipping along my thigh until he pushes my knee to the ground and pins my leg open wide. His other hand parts the flesh between my legs, running along my wet slit.

“Jack, please,” I gasp, forgetting about my reservations when he’s so close to where I need him.

“Tell me you’re beautiful.”

“W-what?”

A light touch runs from my clit to my entrance. “I’ll give you what you need after you tell me you’re beautiful.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t think anybody taught you.”

A shiver races up my spine. The words tumble around my mouth, heavy and awkward. “I’m beautiful,” I whisper.

“Hmm,” he murmurs, lips vibrating against my stomach. “I’m unconvinced.”

My mouth falls open to protest, but a callused fingertip circles my clit, so all that comes out is a breathy moan.

Abruptly, it stops.

“Jack!”

“Say it again, Whitney. Tell me you’re beautiful.”

His finger moves, poised at my entrance.

I squeeze my eyes shut. “I’m beautiful.”

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