Bloom of Love (Long Valley #10) - Erin Wright Page 0,41

he pulled them down and mostly off, getting stuck on her flats but at least he could now see her in all her glory.

And oh, what glory it was. His eyes skimmed her body, her lush curves like those in old paintings, before society decided that broomsticks were in fashion. He hesitated, hardly knowing where to start. His mouth over her mound? Peel her underwear off and bare her fully to his gaze? Suck on her pink toes one by one? Kiss his way up her thighs? Or he could—

“It’s okay,” she said, jackknifing into a sitting position, scrambling for her clothes, her hair falling forward into her face, hiding it from view. “You don’t— I didn’t— it’s okay. We can just—” She was shoving her arms into her shirt but her bra was tangled up in the mess and she wasn’t making any progress.

Which was good, because it took Christian a stunned moment – or ten – to register what was going on.

“Hold on! What’s—what are we doing here?” he sputtered, curling his fingers around her arms, arresting her movements. His dick, near to bursting just seconds before, began wilting.

“You don’t want me, and that’s okay,” she said, looking past him, over his shoulder, refusing to meet his eye. “I knew it was too good…I just…did you have to wait until I was naked to figure out I’m fat?!” She was trembling all over but she shifted her gaze to look straight at him. Her blue-green eyes had gone steel gray; all of the color drained out of them by the hurt that was clearly overwhelming her. “I’ve been fat all this time. It isn’t like I gained 50 pounds in the last five minutes. You know what?” She stabbed him in the chest with her index finger. “Next time, when you want to just stare at a lumpy chick, try some porn!” She was shouting now, and the agony in her voice tore through him, slicing him to pieces.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” he said as calmly as he could, holding up his hands in surrender, but his heart was thumping along in his chest, an out-of-control animal faced with the unacceptable: Losing Carla. “Let’s…let’s back up the train for just a moment.”

She ignored him, struggling to put on her shirt again, but it was twisted somewhere and one sleeve was inside out.

“Carla!” he shouted.

She jerked and then stopped, panting, staring at the ground, back to refusing to meet his gaze. He tried desperately hard not to get sidetracked by her heaving chest and instead chose to stare at the crown of her head.

“Carla, mi querida, I don’t know what just happened,” he said quietly. “I need you to talk to me. I was just looking at you—”

“You were staring at my fat rolls,” she said dully. “I get it, okay? I know I’m heavier than most. I just thought you knew that, and I thought…” Her voice grew shaky and he was sure she was on the verge of crying. “I thought you liked me. The way I am. So stupid. Stupid Carla.” She swiped at her face, still hiding behind the curtain of her hair, but now he was sure she was crying.

Not how he’d wanted this to go.

Worse, he had no idea why things had gone off the rails.

Tentatively, delicately, he tried to figure out what had happened. He was sure that someone trying to defuse a live bomb was less cautious than he was at that moment.

“I think you’re gorgeous,” he whispered, reaching out and tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. “I wasn’t looking at you and thinking you were fat. I was thinking you were perfect. Those old paintings – you know those ones where the women are mostly naked and laying on their sides and you can see all of their curves? Painted a long time ago.”

“You mean a Rubens’ painting? From the 1500s or whatever?”

“Yes! Him!” Christian said, delighted she’d put the pieces together from old paintings and mostly naked women. “You look like one of those paintings. I had paused because you’d taken my breath away, not because I was turned off by you. Nothing could be further from the truth.”

“Are you…really?” she breathed, pushing back her hair as she lifted her face to look at him. Tears had left their trail on her cheeks and he was sure she’d die if she knew how messed up her makeup was, but none of that mattered. He used his thumbs to