CHAPTER 42

“You don’t have any jiggly bits.”

“Yes, I do. I have jiggly bits and stretch marks.” I grabbed some of Milka’s clothes out of Dad’s drawers.

“It didn’t bother you when I was carrying you up the damn stairs not so long ago.”

“It was dark,” I offered lamely. That, and I was too consumed by him to think about the flub for even a second. “My body’s not perfect, and it’s sure as hell not what you’re used to.”

“You think I care about perfect?” He sounded half angry and half confused.

“I do,” I said softly.

I swallowed and grabbed Milka’s bag. Conor stepped up behind me, grasping my hips, and pulled me back. I could feel his dick, hard, digging into my back, and his breath cascaded over my neck.

He ran his hands up my sides, following the curve of my waist, and back down. He slid them around to my stomach. I inhaled but he didn’t falter. His hands eased up my stomach, hovering just below my breasts, then fell back down.

“You’re right,” he whispered huskily in my ear. “I do care about perfect