Page 59 of Bad Enough

She did have a lot of ice cream in the freezer. And she did have a lot of flavors.

“Which one did you pull out of here?”

“It was the chocolate fudge brownie. But I really don’t need it,” she rushed to assure him.

“Bullshit. It’s not about need. You obviously want it, so eat it.”

He grabbed the pint out of the freezer, closed the door, then opened the carton. Seeing it was a brand-new pint, he pulled the seal off of it, threw it in the garbage, then went to the drawer she had tried to put the spoon back into and took out another one. Once he had the extra spoon, he grabbed her hand and pulled her to the couch in the living room. Then he glanced at the patio doors.

He tilted his head to the door. “Want to sit outside? I saw you have a porch swing.”

What the hell am I doing?

You’re trying to give her some normalcy, dumbass.

She looked longingly at the door.

“What is it?”

Her arms hugged herself. “Is it safe?” she whispered.

“Nemo’s watching, and I’ll be with you. It should be fine as long as you let me sit on the outer side, with you closest to the house.” He watched her pale at the reminders that she truly was in danger. “It’s okay, little Flame. We can stay inside. I just thought?—”

“No,” she drew out the word. “Since you’re here, I can do it.” Her voice was quiet and shy in its delivery, but she clearly wanted to go out there.

But I don’t think it’s because she actually wants to go outside.

Sliding the patio door open, he ushered her outside and slid the door shut behind them. “Okay, inside seat on the swing. Park your butt.”

They sat in the dark, the only sound the cicadas and crickets, him gently rocking the swing with one foot planted on the porch. For several minutes, they ate in silence.

He noticed she was taking tiny dips of ice cream from the pint and decided to broach the uncomfortable topic again. “So, why do you think you shouldn’t have ice cream?”

She shrugged. He could see her desire to avoid the question, even in the dark.

“Flame.” He broke out his Dom voice as he knew it was the only way he was going to get an answer to the question. “Why do you think you shouldn’t have ice cream?”

“It’s not healthy.”

“That’s a bullshit answer.”

“Well, you said you don’t eat a lot of it, and you’re incredibly fit. I’m guessing you’re big into protein shakes, kale, granola, and unprocessed food in general. I’m clearly not.”

He sucked the spoon in his mouth to clear all the ice cream off of it and chewed around a huge piece of brownie in his mouth. “Kale is not a food. It’s pure evil. And I eat a lot of takeout, primarily because I don’t cook and have zero desire to learn how. That means I work out a lot harder, and I need to be fit for what I do. But how does what I eat have to do with you eating ice cream? I’m not connecting the dots here.”

She sighed. “I’m not exactly thin or in shape.”

“Everyone has a shape.”

She thunked him in the forehead with her spoon. He was thankful it didn’t have any ice cream on it.

“What?” he questioned with a laugh. “It’s the truth.” He dipped his spoon into the ice cream pint. When it came out, the chunk on the utensil wasn’t small, but it certainly wasn’t as large as the ones he had been digging out. He held the spoon up to her mouth. “Open,” he ordered.

Their eyes locked over her sliding the ice cream off the spoon. He watched her savor the chocolate, chewing the chunk of brownie. When she was done chewing, she looked away. “I guess I feel?—”

“Don’t you dare say ‘fat.’” TB’s voice was low with a touch of anger to it. “You’re beautiful, Flame. You’re all soft and curvy in all the ways you should be. A real man does not want a woman who’s rail thin and will break if he spanks her ass or grips her hard around the hips when he’s sexing her up.” In the time that they’d been out in the dark, TB’s vision had adjusted, and he could see that her eyes went soft again. “That was the whole point of what we did at the club. You needed to see how beautiful you are. How can you possibly write about BDSM if you aren’t comfortable with your body? And how can you possibly own your sexuality if you can’t love what you are? There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You are perfect exactly how you are, and anyone who loves you will feel the same way.”

She reached across her waist and grabbed her right elbow. He’d noticed the gesture happened a lot, signaling she was uncomfortable and trying to protect herself. This time, the expression on her face changed to one that looked like pain. Someone had really done a number on this woman’s self-esteem. He couldn’t believe she couldn’t see how gorgeous she really was.

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