Black(10)

My thoughts drifted to a memory of something my mother used to say after my father would turn his sights on my fragile teen ego, calling me a fat, disgusting pig before roaring out of the house in a drunken rage and shacking up with yet another strange woman for a few weeks. Momma would hold me so tightly in those moments I thought my lungs might burst, but as she rocked me against her chest, tears in both our eyes, she promised that I was beautiful. She said I was a strong and beautiful woman and that my heart was so massive that it couldn’t even fit in the bodies of those women my father found desirable. He didn’t see the beauty of hearts. My heart shuddered at the painful words that still resonated in my mind.

I stepped through the door and grabbed the takeout pizza menu from the fridge before dialing and placing an order for delivery. I would have been ridiculed for eating pizza in the past, which was why I loved every single slice that passed my lips. Besides, I was starving. Getting this job with Maxwell at the library meant I could finally afford a proper dinner, and I would make it last a few days. It was either takeout or chips and fruit again and I just wanted a warm meal.

While lunch with Maxwell had been interesting, I hadn’t been able to stomach more than a bite, and after he’d stomped off like I’d burned him with acid, I’d sat in the bathroom for ten minutes, praying he wouldn’t come back down and ask to see me, tears streaming down my face and all. Whatever it was, it’d felt like rejection, and my immediate instinct had been to run and hide. Not let anyone see my pain, keep it strong, internalize. Vulnerability showed weakness, and weakness wasn’t something I could afford at this moment. Not if I was going to keep a low profile and start a new life.

So while Maxwell had left my tummy in twists all day, it’d also started to eat itself. I hung up the phone a moment after ordering from the only pizza place in town and stalked to the bathroom, shedding my work clothes on the way in favor of comfy leggings and a tank top. I threw my hair into a ponytail and then stepped up to the bathroom vanity. A plump girl with uneven skin and frizzy hair stared back at me. I frowned, then tried to see what Maxwell might see. He couldn’t seem to keep his hands off me, and while I’d never felt especially pretty before, he made me feel like a goddess. Or maybe he was just a hermit who hadn’t had contact with a woman in decades.

My unruly Italian locks never obeyed and were always getting in my face, but maybe it added to the mystery. I pulled my hair down and flipped it over one shoulder, making a kissy face like Greta Garbo in the mirror. My lips were full, at least there was that. I remembered the bite of his teeth against my bottom lip earlier, shuddering at the release it’d brought.

My eyes fell to the rounded curve of my bust, my nipples hard and pebbled through the thin cotton of my undershirt.

I sighed, pulling my hair back and thinking it wasn’t good for anyone to look at themselves for too long in the mirror, before a loud rap, rap pulled me into the living room.

“That was quick,” I said as I opened the door, thrusting money in the stranger’s hands. The stranger without a pizza.

“You always throw money at strange men?” Maxwell Black’s dark eyes danced with mischief.

I huffed in response, turning and tossing the money on the table, already accustomed to the fact that he was here, invading my space and my life, which he’d been doing a lot of lately.

“Why’d you run out so quick?” Maxwell closed the door behind him before following me into the small galley kitchen.

“I just needed to get my thoughts together after you ran out on me and all at lunch.” Oh man, where had that come from?

“Heh.” He laughed awkwardly and put a hand through his hair. “‘Bout that. I should have explained.”

“It’s okay. ‘You’re not pretty enough. It’s too soon. It’s not you, it’s me.’ I’ve heard it all. I don’t need to hear another excuse.”

“Pretty enough? Are you fucking kidding me?” He nearly lunged across the small space and his big hand wrapped around my shoulders as if he was about to shake some sense into me.

I shrugged, avoiding his eyes as tears burned in mine. Rejection took the air out of my lungs as if the ground had fallen out from under me. Like a cold truth biting the face, the wind whispering that I was simply not good enough... That’s why I didn’t do this dating thing well. I remembered it all now.

“You’re fucking gorgeous, Elle. You walk away and I want to sink my hands into that ass and fuck you until neither one of us can see straight,” he finished and swept the air from my lungs. What? “I like a woman to look like a woman. Something to hang on to when I fuck. I love your soft curves, the beautiful roundness of your belly. The curves of your body are magical, my own personal roadmap to Heaven. I am a hard man—a rough man. I want a beautiful woman to touch.” He leaned closer. “I want my hardness to become lost in you.” His words sent shudders up my neck and coursed need through my synapses. “So you are more than pretty; you’re perfect, you are everything. I love your body.”