“Cataloguing my fat, huh?”

“Shut it, Callie,” he answered fiercely. “Don’t ever say that shit to me.”

My mouth snapped shut at his order, my face burning with embarrassment. I knew I wasn’t fat, but insecurities were a bitch and it felt like I was gaining weight faster than I should have been.

“You were gorgeous when I met you,” he told me quietly, running a hand from the top of my shoulder to my wrist. “But now? You’re so fuckin’ beautiful it almost hurts to look at you. Your tits are all full and round, your belly’s got a little bump already, and fuck me, but I’m pretty sure your thighs and ass are gonna make me have a heart attack.” As he detailed my body parts, he ran his hands over them lightly until my entire body was covered in goose bumps.

“Such a sweet talker,” I murmured back, reaching up to run my fingers across his jaw as tears filled my eyes.

“I aim to please,” he grunted back, leaning down to catch a nipple.

I sniffed once before getting my tears under control and arched my back as he tugged hard with his teeth.

“Careful!” I hissed quietly. “I’m super sensitive and they hurt.”

“Aw, I’m sorry,” he murmured back, licking over the offended nipple as if to soothe it. “You sore down here, too?” he asked as he slid down my body until he was looking between my legs.

“No,” I gasped as he licked me gently. “Not sore.”

I think he mumbled the word “good” but I wasn’t sure because his lips pressed firmly into my clit and I keened low in my throat. He licked and sucked and bit at me until I was writhing on the bed, but right when I was about to come, he pulled back.

“Asa!” I snapped, pulling at his hair in an attempt to move his face back where I wanted it.

“That’s right, Sugar,” he hissed as he pulled my hands away from his head, trapping them above me as he moved in between my legs.

He paused until I was jerking at my arms and tilting my hips against him, then leaned down and whispered in my ear, “Now scream it for me,” as he pushed inside with one powerful thrust.

“Fuck!” I yelled, shocked by the feel of him after three weeks.

“Not what I was looking for,” he commented as he pulled out slowly and slammed back in.

“Asa,” I whimpered, trying to follow his directions but unable to catch my breath enough to do it.

“Louder,” he grunted, letting go of one of my hands so he could reach down and very gently twist my nipple.

I jerked off the bed in response, feeling myself start to shake as his pelvis rubbed against my clit with every slow, outward pull. We were quiet for a few moments, watching each other as my climax grew closer and closer, until finally, it hit.

“Asa!” I moaned loud and long as I came.

“Perfect,” he gasped as his hand slid to my chin, tilting my head back. “So goddamn perfect.”

Then he latched down on my throat and sucked strongly, marking me as he came.

After catching our breath, I cleaned up and crawled back into bed with him, content to do nothing but feel his skin against mine.

“You been feeling okay?” he questioned, rubbing his hand softly over my belly.

“Yep. No issues so far,” I answered, planting my elbow on the bed so I could lean up and trace the tattoo across his collarbone.

“I hate being so far away,” he told me seriously. “I wanna watch all this. Seems like you’ve already changed in the three weeks since I saw you last. This little curve is new.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of funny because people can’t figure out if it’s a baby or just fat,” I told him with a laugh.

“When are you gonna let Farrah stand on her own two feet?” he asked with a sigh. “I know she’s your best friend, but she doesn’t seem to see anyone but herself, and you’re not doing anything but giving her a free place to live.”

“I know,” I murmured, flopping onto my back on the bed. “But I can’t just ditch her. Everyone in her life fucks her over. I don’t want to be another person on that list.”

“I think you’re gonna have to have a ‘come to Jesus’ with her. We can’t keep putting off our life for her, Callie. It’s gotta stop at some point,” he told me, playing with my fingers.

When I was silent, he changed the subject, “Why don’t you paint your toenails? Fingers are always different colors, but you never paint your toes.”

I slipped into a memory of leisurely painting my toes as I listened for my parents and forcefully pushed it out of my head. It was a simple question and didn’t require a long explanation, but I couldn’t force the answer past my throat.

“Don’t care if you paint your toes, Callie,” he assured me, coming to the wrong conclusion about my silence.

“The day before my parents were killed, instead of talking things out with them, I sat in my room and painted my toenails,” I told him with a shrug and shake of my head. “Because that was so fucking important.”

“That had nothing to do with what happened,” he told me quietly, leaning over me.

“I know that.”

“You need to stop ignoring it, Callie.”

“I’m not ignoring anything. I just choose not to remember.”

“Sweetheart, it’s just gonna keep popping back up, you can’t hold that shit back forever,” he stated seriously.