Page 24 of Forced Plus-Size Mate

I feel like a goddamn idiot! Look at me, the star jock at high school, stumbling over his words like an inept, moronic waste of space.

I don’t want to tell her it’s actually an official meeting with Decker and his elders, the wild wolves, and Rider. Bae wants to get this issue sorted as quickly as possible, and he doesn’t want anyone making trouble. He truly believes this is an excellent step for our packs toward a bright future.

And so do I.

“Yeah, I’ll come,” she answers, finishing her waffles. “I need to meet up with the other witches and see if they’ve had any changes.”

“Surely it’s a good sign if you have more power than yesterday?” I ask. “I mean, I don’t know how it works, but it should mean that we did the right thing.”

She stares at me, her beautiful eyes wide and shimmering. Her face lacks expression, but it isn’t blank. I can sense emotion in her, like a great, raging torrent barely held back by a rock-solid dam.

I want to yell and wave my arms, tell her that she should fight with me, say everything she has ever needed to say.

I deserve it!

But I stay quiet, suffering her cool gaze. If she doesn’t want to talk to me, then I need to just bear it.

“I can’t be sure of anything yet,” she mutters. “Let me get my phone, and I’ll be ready to go. I’ll text Lucy so I can get the rest of my stuff.”

She leaves the room, and I can’t help myself—I watch her leave. I never imagined a pair of old cast-off corduroys with a baggy sweater could be so sexy.

Anything is sexy on her.

I can’t stop thinking about how it felt to wrap my arms around her big, soft curves. Snuggling with her at night, cuddling with her on the couch while we watched movies—I had never felt so comfortable, or so loved.

I’ve never understood the obsession with being thin. Girls are so much more beautiful when they have a curvy shape—and Amanda wears her curves with so much confidence, it’s sexy as hell.

I hear her footsteps in the hall and turn my eyes away so she doesn’t see me staring like a creep. I pick up the plates and put them in the sink, grabbing my keys. When I look up at her, she slides her gaze away from me, as if she doesn’t want to make eye contact.

But you’re so beautiful. How can I stop looking at you?

“Are you ready?” she asks.

“Sure!” I agree, hoping I’m not being painfully enthusiastic.

She walks ahead of me, and again, I struggle not to stare too hard.

Fuck it, she can’t see me looking, so why not?

I slow down another step, letting my gaze travel down, admiring her soft waist, wide hips, and plump butt. I can remember all too clearly what it felt like to hug that body tightly and reach around to squeeze that gorgeous ass.

She goes through the front door and walks over to the truck. I struggle slightly as I lock the door. She has such a powerful effect on me, I might even forget how to breathe.

It’s not just being near her… it’s the shock that I thought I'd never see her again, and now she’s right here, and we’re married.

When I start up the truck, she just stares out the window, obviously ignoring me. I start to feel dizzy, then I realize I actually have been holding my breath.

Yup, I forgot how to breathe. Surely, she knows what she’s doing to me.

“Where did you want me to drop you off?” I ask, trying to sound casual.

“Lucy’s bakery. The others are meeting me there.”

“Okay, cool. I’m not sure how long I’ll be, but just text me when you’re done, and I’ll come as quickly as possible.”

“One of the girls can bring me home, I’m sure.”

“Amanda,” I say, an exasperated tone creeping into my voice, “I’m trying as hard as I can to make you comfortable. I don’t expect waves of gratitude from you, but some acknowledgment would be nice. We used to be so close, don’t you remember?”

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