One More Night (Sugar and Spice Book 2) by BL Mute

Author:BL Mute [Mute, BL]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-07-27T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER SIX

I lead Juliet out of the kitchen and into the bathroom, nestled off it. Stepping inside, I flip on the light and then turn around to her. As soon as her eyes catch the sight of herself in the mirror that stretches above the sink, she turns to face me and throws her arms around my neck.

She doesn’t have to say anything for me to know what’s going on. Despite the slight smile on her face and the cool façade she’s trying to front, I know better. Maybe it’s presumptuous, but I’d like to think I’m a good judge of character, and so far, Juliet has been a pretty open book.

“Turn around.”

She looks at me with confusion. “What?”

I tip my head and raise a brow. “You heard me. Turn around.”

She releases a breath and does what I asked, then wraps her arms around her chest.

I grab her wrists. “Don’t try and hide.”

Driving her closer to the mirror, I push her hair over one shoulder, then unclasp the necklace around her neck and lay it on the counter. Next, I unhook her bra and let it fall, then remove her earrings and bracelets.

“Look at yourself, Juliet.”

She shifts her gaze to herself and lets her eyes run the length of her body. “Reed—”

“Shh. No words, not right now. Just look at yourself.” She closes her mouth promptly and does as I asked.

I start to unbutton my shirt as I watch her. I can see her mind reeling as she looks at every stretch mark that paints her stomach, the cellulite on her thighs, and the blemishes she tried to hide with make-up. To her, they make her ugly and undesirable, but to me, it only shows how real she is.

With my shirt open, I slide closer behind her and press my front to her back. Her skin is warm and soft under mine.

Raising my hands, I run my palms down her arms. I lift them over her head, then trail my hands back down her body. “Look at my hands, Juliet. Look at every inch I touch and how your skin forms to them.”

Her eyes follow the movement from her hips, all the way to her stomach and up to her chest.

“Your body was made for a man who knows what to do with it. All of you is perfect for all of me. Every ridge. Every curve. Every. Fucking. Piece.”

I squeeze her boobs lightly and lean over her shoulder. Planting my lips on her neck, I repeat myself. “Every piece, sweet girl.”

I know she can’t believe someone like me would want someone like her, and it’s frustrating. Not because she feels that way, but because someone else made her feel that way. Whether it was a bully from childhood or an inadequate ex-boyfriend who didn’t know how to handle such a woman, the seed was planted, and the roots have spread.

The thought alone has my mind whirling with notions of violence. I want to hurt anyone who has ever hurt her.

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