Page 36 of Capri

“I’m here, sweetheart. Can’t take my eyes off you.” He kisses my shoulder softly without the intention of going further, and if I wasn’t a puddle before, I am now.

“Let’s get you in the shower,” he says. “I need to take your bra and panties off first. That ok?”

I nod, and he unclasps my bra, the weight of my breasts falling free.

“Wait,” I say before he goes any further. I’m forgetting about my biggest insecurity of all.

Jones freezes. “What is it? Did I go too far?”

I shake my head. “Not at all. It’s just that…”

Why is it so hard for me to say? Probably because Jones is the first man I’ve been with since my husband, and I’m just now realizing how deep those insecurities run.

I wear the reminder of my loss every day.

“Capri, you can tell me. We can stop if this is too much.”

“That’s not it. I want this.” My heart struggles to keep up.

“Then what is it?” His concern is comforting.

“I have a lot of…stretch marks…on my stomach. I just wanted you to know.” My voice quakes, hoping it doesn’t turn him away.

He’s seen me in a bikini, but the high rise of my bottoms covered my marks.

In an instant, strong arms wrap around my waist, and calloused hands land on my stomach. “You are enchanting. I know you’re young, but I have a feeling these marks tell a beautiful story.”

Fuck. Don’t cry. I’m supposed to be acting sexy and confident, not like I’m seconds away from an emotional breakdown.

But his touch is soft and gentle. He has no idea the level of care this is showing me. Showering is the last thing on my mind.

“Twenty-six. I’m twenty-six,” I say, holding back the emotion overwhelming me.

“You weren’t supposed to tell me that, sweetheart.” He smiles caringly.

“Pretend you didn’t hear it then.”

He chuckles, and it’s full of life. “Let me tell you something,” Jones says, circling to my front and coming face-to-face with my half-naked body.

His eyes stay locked, never straying to let them drift to my naked breasts. He grabs hold of my face and meets me head on. “I’m a grown-ass man. A man, Capri. I want a woman. Curves, cellulite, stretch marks, full tits and all. Gives me something to hold onto. Don’t hide that from me. I beg of you.”

Tears threaten to spill from my eyes, but I hold them back. “Really?”

He nods reassuringly. “Really. You’re a woman, and thank fucking god you look and feel like one too.”

I can’t help it, I kiss him. It’s instinct.

This wasn’t a part of our deal, but Jones offers his kindness and unapologetic honesty without question. He didn’t need to reassure me of his acceptance of my body the way that it is, but he gave it to me freely. Without conditions.

It takes him a small second to catch up, but when he does, he puts his whole self into the kiss. His hands dive into my hair, gripping me tightly and pulling me closer. A euphoric tingle vibrates across my body when my nipples ghost his chest.

“Fuck, Capri. What are you doing to me?” His breathing quickens.

Jones is still fully dressed, his linen button-down giving my nipples the traction they need to get lost in the sensation. “Mhmm,” I moan against his lips, our tongues sparring to take more and more.

“So fucking sweet.” We pull apart, and our foreheads meet. “Let’s get cleaned up so I can take my time with you,” he says on a heavy breath.

“I’m good with that,” I agree, looking forward to the promise of more.

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