Total pages in book: 115
Estimated words: 106797 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 106797 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 534(@200wpm)___ 427(@250wpm)___ 356(@300wpm)
I swallowed, but didn’t comment. His eyes fell over the rest of the photos on the wall and then he turned, scanning the others. “There are no photos of you. There’s your family, your friends.” He turned back to me. “But none of you.”
I laughed lightly. “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly worth taking a photograph of.”
Rhodes’ brows pulled inward and he went to speak, but then he glanced around again. “Wait. Where is your bathroom?”
“Um, through that door,” I replied, pointing.
He moved past me and through the bathroom door, flicking on the light. He peered around for a moment and then turned back to me. “You don’t have a single mirror in your room. Not even in here.”
I shrugged. “Mirrors aren’t exactly my thing either, Rhodes.”
“Why?”
I let out a sharp laugh this time, gesturing to my body hidden behind the baggy t-shirt. “Seriously?”
His face hardened and he dropped his glass on my bedside table before taking mine from me, too. Grabbing my hand in his, he pulled me down the hall.
“What are you doing?”
Rhodes didn’t answer. He opened door after door until he found our master guest room. It was my mom’s favorite, the one she always reserved for the most important guests we housed. When Rhodes pulled me in front of the grand full-length mirror set up beside the bed, I cringed.
“Stop, Rhodes,” I said, pushing against his chest to try to move him toward the door again.
“No, Natalie.” He grabbed my arms and turned me back toward the mirror. Rhodes was standing behind me, tall and picturesque as always. His hair had dried naturally and had a soft wave to it. His defined jaw matched the cut muscles that ran along the arms he still had holding me firmly in place and his electric eyes were hard on mine. “Tell me what you see.”
“I see you.”
“Don’t look at me,” he commanded, his voice firm. “Look at yourself and tell me what you see.”
I sighed, but let my eyes fall from his to my own. They were a dull brown, no life sparkling behind them. My skin was oily, my face bland without any makeup on, and my dark blonde hair was lying almost pin-straight over my shoulders. I swallowed as I let my eyes fall further. It wasn’t that I didn’t ever look in a mirror — I saw myself in the gym mirrors and when I was anywhere in public — but I never studied myself this way. I could see that I’d lost weight, but I was still far from looking anything like Willow or Shay. I had curves. I had large breasts, thick thighs, and big hips.
“I see everything I still need to work on and everything I don’t want to see when I look in the mirror five years from now.”
Rhodes breathed heavily behind me, but he didn’t say anything. I watched his face in the mirror and saw a mixture of emotions cross it — from pain to confusion and everything in-between. Slowly, he moved to my left, staring intently at me as I still faced the mirror.
“Show me.”
The way he said those two words made me shiver. He commanded attention, he always did.
“Show you what?”
Rhodes swallowed, stepping a little closer. “Show me what you hate.”
I let out a shaky breath, my eyes roaming all the imperfections of my body. “Well, my stomach—”
“Show me,” Rhodes interrupted. “Don’t tell me.”
Swallowing, I lifted my hands from where they rested at my sides and gently touched my stomach. I knew it was smaller than just a few weeks before, but it was still thick — there was still a roll when I sat down and I had muffin tops that fell over my tiny shorts.
“Lift your arms.”
I looked at Rhodes questioningly, but the way he stared back — his eyes intense and determined — I didn’t question him out loud. I lifted my arms above my head and waited. Rhodes’ throat constricted and he seemed to be battling with what he was about to do, but before I had the chance to think more of it he grabbed the hem of my shirt and carefully pulled it up and over my head.
My heart accelerated from a slow trot to a full-throttled gallop. He was stripping me. Rhodes was stripping off my clothes.
Slowly, he bent to his knees and glanced up at me. I could never forget the way he looked kneeling below me — vulnerable, yet still so strong. He pulled his eyes from mine long enough to wrap his large hands around my waist and press his lips gently to my stomach.
And I remember it hurt that first time he touched me. Not because it was painful, but because it was everything but. It hurt from somewhere deep inside my gut that told me I would never get to have him, to keep him, or to feel the way I felt with his hands on me with anyone else for as long as I tried.