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His own glide under the ruffled straps of my jumpsuit, igniting every inch of skin he touches. “Is there a zipper or something on this thing?”
There isn’t, and that’s when I realize we’re about to see each other naked. A sliver of light pours in from the living room, lighting the entrance of my bedroom. Not a single shadow covers his face, and I can only assume the same is true for me. There’s no way I’m taking the jumpsuit off in front of him or letting him bear witness to any kind of awkward shuffling right before we have sex. I should’ve worn something easy. Nothing with an absurd amount of buttons down one side I have to wriggle my way out of.
Not sexy.
I’m about to say I’ll be right back, opting to change in the bathroom, when he begins unbuttoning his shirt. Slowly, with a confidence in what he has to offer that I’ve never once possessed. He takes a seat at the edge of the bed and kicks off his shoes. When the shirt is finally off, I’m rewarded with a stunning view of his upper body. Curved arm muscles, hard abdominals, defined pecs. My breath comes in pants, until I’m practically salivating. Built like a god, indeed. If I were an artist, I’d immortalize him in marble. The plaque would read, Viewers, be wary. They say even the eyes of angels burn from gazing at this glorious physique.
Theo’s eyes stay trained on mine, an evil, knowing smirk on his lips as one hand settles on the zipper of his slacks and the other rests at the top button. He stands up and in one fluid motion, the pants fall from his body and pool at his feet.
“Wow.” Desire flushes my cheeks, even as a wave of shame and embarrassment crashes over me. “Okay. Wow.”
I’m out of words. His eyes go black and hooded as he prowls toward me, the last fully dressed person in the room. And then, the thought I’ve been pushing to the back of my brain for weeks comes raging forward.
How could a guy who looks like that possibly want me?
My vision goes blurry. I’ve held off for this long, telling myself that none of it was real. Just a distraction to get us through what we need to get through, and a show we put on for the world to project the place we want to be. Once he’s done using me to get over Alice, we’ll go our separate ways. Of course I’d never be able to pull a guy like him. I know that. He doesn’t really want me, but the escape I can provide him. It almost doesn’t matter that he’d never date a girl my size otherwise.
“Hey.” His voice has gone soft, hands gently cupping my cheeks. My eyes sting with tears I’m desperately trying to blink away. “What’s wrong? What did I do?”
“Nothing.” God, even my voice gives me away. I can barely get out the one word over the lump in my throat. I shake my head, forcing myself to clear the thoughts away. “Hold on a second. I’ll just go change in the bathroom—”
“Marcela.” He tugs on my arm as I try to turn away, his hands gripping my shoulders to hold me in place. “We’re not gonna do this when you’re upset. Talk to me.”
I blink a few more times until I can see clearly, as if that’ll prove him wrong. Finally, I sit down at the edge of my bed with a sigh. He fills the space next to me, an arm wrapping around my shoulders.
“I’m not… like you.” I choke on the explanation, trying to force the words out before I lose my nerve. “I mean, look at you. There’s not an inch of fat on your body, is there?”
“Thanks to the rigid diet and exercise routines courtesy of the team manager. The day I quit, I had my first piece of cheesecake in years. Years.” He emphasizes this fact with a groan.
“Listen, this is the most nerve-racking part of dating for me,” I tell him. “I don’t want you to… get your hopes up for what my body will look like.”
Oh, god.
I sound like my fourteen-year-old self, furiously going through each article of clothing in my closet the night before high school. Pinching at the baby fat in my cheeks and the handles at my sides. Of course, when I look back at pictures of myself from back then, I wonder how I could have ever thought I was ugly.
“Get my hopes up,” he repeats, expression stormy. “Because other guys have gotten their hopes up and been let down? Is that what you’re saying?”
I nod, unable to look at him. There have been people who cringed when they got their first glimpse of my body, and then played it off so they could still get some. Part of me is glad Ben and I broke up before we could cross that point, even if I still wonder what his reaction would’ve been. Maybe it’s better I don’t know.
“I guess I’ve just always had a hard time feeling sexy.” It’s easier talking to him like this, looking down at our feet instead of at him. Even still, the side of my face is warm from the weight of his eyes. “I’m probably a downgrade compared to the other women you’ve been with.”
“Marcela…” His voice raises in alarm.
“I promise I’m not always this insecure,” I say in a rush, heart racing from the sudden note in his voice. A downgrade? God, what a crappy way to feel about myself. It’s not even necessarily how I feel about myself, but what I expect someone like Theo to feel about me. On my best day, like the one I was having until it came time to undress, I know my worth. I know what I deserve. But I’ve been with too many guys who never came close.
“You’re the most conventionally attractive guy I’ve ever been with, casual or otherwise, and I just got scared that this was about to become… real.”
“Look at me.” His voice is as soft as I’ve ever heard it, but I still hesitate a beat before I do so. He smooths back the curls from my face, and I can’t help but lean into the touch. “Did you already forget the way I looked at you before we left your apartment tonight?”
A flush of warmth, sudden and all consuming, heats my skin at the memory. It’s a lot like the way he’s looking at me right now, but it’s also a softer expression. His thumb brushes the side of my mouth before his eyes settle there.
“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t find you unbelievably sexy.” His voice is a low growl, and my insides coil with anticipation. And then his mouth is on mine, rough and wild with need.
“If you need me…” His kisses move down my jaw…
“To show you…” My throat.
“How much…” My neck.
