Page 64 of Breakaway Hearts

“You want it to be darker,” I say. It’s not exactly a question, but I watch her face for a response anyway, trying to gauge her reaction.

Her lips tug to one side, her gaze sliding away from mine as she shrugs. “I guess so. I mean, it’s just sexier, isn’t it? Than all that light?”

“I dunno.” I shake my head. “What I think is sexy would be seeing every inch of you laid bare on this bed for me to feast on.”

She flushes, shoving lightly at my chest. “Come on, Reese.”

“Come on, what?”

She glares at me. “Some of us aren’t supermodels, okay? We don’t have bodies made for harsh lighting.”

I frown, resting my hands on either side of her head as I hover over her. There are so many fucking things I want to say to that. I want to tell her that her softness and curves don’t need to be hidden away in the dark. I want to know what Dickbag Austin said to her that wormed its way into her mind, making her feel like she’s anything less than stunning. In fact, I want her to give me a list of every single person who’s ever made her feel bad about herself so I can pay a visit to each one of them and set them fucking straight.

But instead of saying any of that, I gaze down at her as her red curls spill over the pillow and murmur, “Do you trust me?”

She blinks, her eyebrows pulling together. “Of course I do.”

“Good.” I lean back and slide off the bed, then go to the window—and open the curtains the rest of the way.

Her mouth drops open, an incensed little yelp falling from her lips, and I chuckle.

“You said you trust me,” I remind her, holding out a hand. “So come here.”

She glares at me again, irritation and a hint of curiosity gleaming in her jade eyes. I’m half expecting her to just shoot back some snarky response and refuse to budge, but after hesitating for a moment, she throws the covers all the way back and climbs off the bed. She pads over and rests her hand in mine, and I tug her toward the full-length mirror on the wall.

Callie won’t quite meet my gaze in the reflection, a hint of color rising in her cheeks as she stands in front of the mirror.

“I’m pretty sure this is the opposite of what I asked for,” she mutters, and I grin at the sassy note in her voice.

“It is,” I admit, coming to stand behind her. I’m so much taller than her that I could comfortably rest my chin on the top of her head. “But I want to show you something.”

“What?” she asks, finally looking at my face in the reflection.

“You seem to think you’re not as beautiful as a so-called supermodel. But I happen to disagree with you.” I rest my hands on her upper arms. “What do you see when you look in the mirror? What don’t you like?”

She sighs, as if she’s disappointed that I made her come over here instead of continuing the fun of what we were doing on the bed. But there’s a point to it, so I don’t budge, waiting patiently for her to respond. After a moment, she frowns at her reflection.

“I don’t love my arms,” she says quietly. “They always look too big in pictures.”

“Your arms are perfect,” I tell her, dropping my head to kiss her shoulder. I lift one of her arms and trail my lips along it, all the way to her wrist, and she shivers, her eyes darkening.

“I don’t really like my stomach either,” she murmurs. “It’s too soft. Too round.”

“Sorry.” I grin at her in the mirror. “Your stomach is perfect too. Let me show you.”

Stepping around her, I go down on my knees, pushing her cami up just enough to bare her pale skin to me. My lips trail over her stomach, and I can feel her suck in a sharp breath as my hands go to her hips.

“What about these?” I murmur. “Your hips are so fucking beautiful. I love how curvy you are. How I can hold them like this…” I grip them a little tighter, sucking lightly on the skin of her waist in a way I know will leave a mark. “While I do this.”

She makes a noise in her throat, and when I look up at her, I see her eyelids fluttering shut.

“Open, baby.” I nip at her lightly with my teeth. “Keep watching.”

“Reese…”

She’s getting lost in the sensations I’m bringing out in her, which is exactly what I wanted. Rising to my feet, I move to stand behind her again, noticing the way her nipples have stiffened beneath her camisole.

“Will you take this off?” I ask quietly, sliding one hand over the silky fabric. “Will you let me see more of you?”

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