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Authors: Chantilly White
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the crap with one
simple question. "Do you want her?"
"Yes," he'd said. "Yes, I do."
"Then go get her, son."
He planned to do just that.
There had to be a way for him and Mia to both get what they
wanted, starting with Mia losing the thing she'd fought so long to keep. All he
had to do was somehow open her heart before unwrapping the mysteries of her
body.
No one knew her better than he did, all evidence to the contrary
with the way she'd surprised him earlier. She might be ready to dump her
virginity, but what she really wanted, what she'd been trying unsuccessfully to
find all this time, was a lasting relationship with someone who truly cared
about her. Someone she could trust. Surely he could figure out a way to prove
he was that man and win the love she didn't think she believed in.
He could let her stew for a day or two, amp the tension. As
long as she didn't do something impulsive like hop in bed with another more
willing version of Barry out of spite or desperation. . .
That thought had him jerking upright in his seat. She'd been
pretty upset. Maybe he'd head back now. Just in case.
CHAPTER FOUR
Naked, Mia studied her reflection in the full-length mirror,
her bedroom awash in mockingly cheerful sunshine. Allison's too-tight bikini
had left reddened grooves along the crease of her thighs and the tops of her
shoulders, a thicker line beneath her breasts, but other than that, her flesh
was smooth and clear. She ran a hand down her side, testing. Her body was firm,
her skin soft. She glowed with health, and damn it, she looked good.
Moving both hands to cup her breasts, she turned side to
side. High and full, still on the larger side despite her weight loss, they had
a nice shape. Her nipples were a pretty rose color, puckered now into tight
peaks.
She took care of herself, yo-yoing weight issues
notwithstanding. She was buffed and polished, waxed in all the right places.
Manicured, pedicured, facialed. She worked hard and enjoyed her spa-day
indulgences, which she considered a nice personal perk for her professional
image. Sniffing lightly, she inhaled the lingering fragrance of her Dior
perfume. She smelled good—spicy and warm, sexy and not too sweet.
Maybe she wasn't a size four, but she'd worked her ass off,
literally, to shape up. Her butt was round, her waist trim, if not as small as
Allison's. Her thighs were toned, her arms lightly muscled, her back slender.
Clearly, her body was not the problem.
"So," she said to her image, "what the hell
is wrong with me?"
There it was, the real question. The one she'd been trying
to avoid for years. A decade. It had to be inside. Something in her character,
a deficiency that chased the men away, leaving her single over and over. Like
her mother.
Alone.
Irritated with herself, Mia ran her hands into the length of
her hair and pulled until her scalp begged for mercy. No matter how many times
her mother allowed her heart to be trampled, she'd spring back up and offer it
to the next handsome man to wink in her direction, ever hopeful this time would
end in happily-ever-after. That the next guy would be her prince.
Only one in all that time had even made it a full twelve
months. Richard. Just when Mia'd started to believe he might really be the one,
might really stick, he'd departed like all the rest.
That was when she'd finally figured it out. Her mother was
going about it all wrong, letting each man in too far, too soon, giving
everything up at the crook of a finger. At the age of fifteen, when her friends
were giving up their virginity as fast as they could, she'd instigated her
Three Month Rule.
But the Rule had failed every bit as badly as any of her
mother's relationships. In ten years of dating a stream of potential
candidates, only Barry had gone the distance. But when she'd set the
celebration scene, giddy with excitement, with expectation—and yes,
relief—finally on the cusp of sharing that most intimate part of herself
with a
simple question. "Do you want her?"
"Yes," he'd said. "Yes, I do."
"Then go get her, son."
He planned to do just that.
There had to be a way for him and Mia to both get what they
wanted, starting with Mia losing the thing she'd fought so long to keep. All he
had to do was somehow open her heart before unwrapping the mysteries of her
body.
No one knew her better than he did, all evidence to the contrary
with the way she'd surprised him earlier. She might be ready to dump her
virginity, but what she really wanted, what she'd been trying unsuccessfully to
find all this time, was a lasting relationship with someone who truly cared
about her. Someone she could trust. Surely he could figure out a way to prove
he was that man and win the love she didn't think she believed in.
He could let her stew for a day or two, amp the tension. As
long as she didn't do something impulsive like hop in bed with another more
willing version of Barry out of spite or desperation. . .
That thought had him jerking upright in his seat. She'd been
pretty upset. Maybe he'd head back now. Just in case.
CHAPTER FOUR
Naked, Mia studied her reflection in the full-length mirror,
her bedroom awash in mockingly cheerful sunshine. Allison's too-tight bikini
had left reddened grooves along the crease of her thighs and the tops of her
shoulders, a thicker line beneath her breasts, but other than that, her flesh
was smooth and clear. She ran a hand down her side, testing. Her body was firm,
her skin soft. She glowed with health, and damn it, she looked good.
Moving both hands to cup her breasts, she turned side to
side. High and full, still on the larger side despite her weight loss, they had
a nice shape. Her nipples were a pretty rose color, puckered now into tight
peaks.
She took care of herself, yo-yoing weight issues
notwithstanding. She was buffed and polished, waxed in all the right places.
Manicured, pedicured, facialed. She worked hard and enjoyed her spa-day
indulgences, which she considered a nice personal perk for her professional
image. Sniffing lightly, she inhaled the lingering fragrance of her Dior
perfume. She smelled good—spicy and warm, sexy and not too sweet.
Maybe she wasn't a size four, but she'd worked her ass off,
literally, to shape up. Her butt was round, her waist trim, if not as small as
Allison's. Her thighs were toned, her arms lightly muscled, her back slender.
Clearly, her body was not the problem.
"So," she said to her image, "what the hell
is wrong with me?"
There it was, the real question. The one she'd been trying
to avoid for years. A decade. It had to be inside. Something in her character,
a deficiency that chased the men away, leaving her single over and over. Like
her mother.
Alone.
Irritated with herself, Mia ran her hands into the length of
her hair and pulled until her scalp begged for mercy. No matter how many times
her mother allowed her heart to be trampled, she'd spring back up and offer it
to the next handsome man to wink in her direction, ever hopeful this time would
end in happily-ever-after. That the next guy would be her prince.
Only one in all that time had even made it a full twelve
months. Richard. Just when Mia'd started to believe he might really be the one,
might really stick, he'd departed like all the rest.
That was when she'd finally figured it out. Her mother was
going about it all wrong, letting each man in too far, too soon, giving
everything up at the crook of a finger. At the age of fifteen, when her friends
were giving up their virginity as fast as they could, she'd instigated her
Three Month Rule.
But the Rule had failed every bit as badly as any of her
mother's relationships. In ten years of dating a stream of potential
candidates, only Barry had gone the distance. But when she'd set the
celebration scene, giddy with excitement, with expectation—and yes,
relief—finally on the cusp of sharing that most intimate part of herself
with a
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