Page 94 of The Ground Beneath Our Feet
“Fuck.” He strode over to me and paused. “I missed you so fucking much, baby girl. So damn much.” Then he crashed his lips into mine.
“I missed you too,” I whispered against his lips. “I only want you. I’m completely and utterly in love with you.”
He let out a sigh of relief and wrapped his arms around me, holding me so tight I skipped a breath. I looked up at him, and he had tears in his eyes. “What did I do to deserve you?”
“Need a list? You’re gentle and kind. You taught me how to live in the moment and live in my body. You gave me confidence in how I am, right now. You make me laugh, and you take care of me. You nourish my body and my soul. I’m all yours if you still want me.”
“I do. I only want you. Only you.” He kissed me again, his tongue caressing mine, feeling like I finally was being fed after being hungry for so long. He sucked on my lower lip and ran his hands through my hair. Then he took a step back. His eyes opened wide. “God, baby. You’re the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.”
With his forefinger, he teased apart the knot in the trench coat and opened it. Then he pushed it down my shoulders and arms to the floor, licking his lips.
I stood there wearing stilettos and a smile, my hip to the side, my chest out. My belly, my thighs, my arms just as they were.
Powerful. Strong. Confident. Beautiful.
His.
At my last therapist’s visit, I’d told her that there was some part of us that didn’t want to hate ourselves. If we looked for love outside ourselves, we’d never find it. Not for real. Real love started when we loved ourselves. Before I could love him, I needed to love myself.
But now I’d fallen in love with both of us.
“Come here,” he said. “Come upstairs.”
“Okay.”
I walked ahead of him in stilettos. He could see my ample, curvy ass. That my waist wasn’t a single digit size.
Fine by me.
He let out a breath. “God, I love you. Meet me in my room.”
