Page 51 of Curvy Cabin Fever
My flab is private, thank you.
“Damien!” I half laugh, half scold, and he smirks, making the butterflies in my tummy riot.
“So fucking what? Who cares what people think?” Damien demands, his fingers trailing down my arm, heading south. He continues, watching me as I stiffen, my hand gripping his wrist this time.
I can’t explain it. I love my body, but I know it’s big and flabby. I struggle to fit in any clothes, let alone ones that flatter me. Dressing is a fucking nightmare, so I go for leggings and tunics. Dresses and stuff. I have a few pairs of faithful jeans, though, and I love them. Elasticated waists and all.
“I care,” I tell him, attempting to hold his hand away from me.
“Are you trying to stop me from touching you?” Damien asks, his voice suddenly deep. “Seriously, Aria? Who fucking hurt you, babe?”
Suddenly, the air is too thick, and my throat feels like it’s swelling up. I need to say something, but my eyes are pricking with tears, and I don’t want to start the day like this.
“You know, when you see the pretty girls, the ones that are all slim and beautiful, always laughing and smiling?” I croak out, and Damien stares at me wordlessly, his jaw clenching. “The girls that you probably date, actually,” I add, shaking my head. “Do you remember the girl always hanging back, her hair covering her face and…”
Trying to blend in.
“Always ignored by all the guys,” I whisper as Damien gazes at me, his lips parting like he’s going to say something, but I stop him. “Well, that’s the fat friend. She doesn’t get any attention, and guys always tell her she’s ‘the funny one’ or ‘friend zone’ her instantly. And that’s the nice guys.”
I close my eyes and hate everything at this very moment.
“I don’t get theguy, let aloneguys.”
I never win. The fat friend never does.
“We compromise.”
Damien sits up, his hands bunched into fists, his eyes deadly.“You don’t have to fucking compromise, Aria, and every man in this cabin wants to fucking own you.”
“I—" I start to protest, but he shakes his head.
“No, do you know why we are all acting like horny teenagers?” Damien’s eyes slide down my body.
I hastily cover it with the bedsheets; he returns to my eyes.
“Because you’re fucking delicious, Aria. So fuckingpretty,and a body so addictive I could dine on it every day for the rest of my life and never want food again.”
Whoa.
“So I don’t care about theperfect women,” Damien rasps, grabbing both wrists and pulling me to him.
My heart slams in my chest as he gazes at me, his tongue swiping his lower lip as I gasp.
“Let me tell you something about those ‘perfect women.’” Damien releases one wrist, then grips my chin and pulls me close to his face.
I don’t know what he’s planning to do, but?—
Then he licks me. His tongue sweeps from the bottom of my jaw to my temple, and then he thrusts it into my mouth. We kiss like wild animals, but he breaks away, his eyes wild.
“They don’t taste like you do.”
A moan leaves my lips as he continues.
“They aren’tyou. They aren’tmyperfection.”
My emotions hit me suddenly, almost winding me. I drop my gaze as I remember every rejection and how I laughed it off, so no one would know how much it hurt. How I watched every one of my friends gush over the hot football or basketball player they were dating or watched as they tried on skimpy outfits.
That was in high school, but it didn’t end there.
