Logan (Dad Bod Doms #1) - Golden Angel Page 0,28

to do when she moved. This had not been bought with curves in mind.

Maybe she should put on the corset instead… but then she’d have to wear this tomorrow. Unless she just wore the corset both nights. But if they were going back to the same place, it would be really obvious. Logan knew she had two outfits. Wouldn’t he wonder why she was only wearing one of them?

“Felicity, what are you doing?” His voice broke through the anxiety spiral she’d gotten on.

“Um…” She plucked at the hem of the negligee. “Thinking about changing?”

“Why? You look gorgeous.” The admiration in his voice was sincere, but Felicity gave her reflection a dubious look.

“It shows off… a lot.”

“You used to show off a lot more.” A touch of amusement entered his voice as he walked up behind her. With him standing there, wearing nothing but his leathers, she felt even worse. Sure, he didn’t have the well-defined muscular body from when they’d first met, but he still looked good. He really was a Dad Bod Dom, with the body of a guy who used to be very fit but had let himself go and was now squishable but hot.

Felicity only felt squishable—in all the wrong places.

“I used to look better, showing it off,” she said, poking at one of her rolls through the sheer panel, scowling.

Suddenly, she was pulled backward. Felicity let out a little squeal as she was spun around, landing stomach first on the bed with her body bent at the waist. Her skirt was flipped up to expose her ass and thighs. She realized her mistake, but it was already too late.

Shit!

“I didn’t mean—” Her words were cut off before she could even really begin.

Smack!

“Ow!” Slapping her hands over her mouth, she tried to quiet her cry of surprised pain. She had no idea how thin the walls of their hotel room were, and the idea of someone in the room next to them overhearing her was mortifying. Logan punctuated each smack with a stern word.

Smack!

“What…”

Smack!

“Did…”

Smack!

“I say…”

Smack!

“About…”

Smack!

“Putting…”

Smack!

“Yourself…”

Smack!

“Down?”

SMACK!

Whimpering, she did a little dance as Logan peppered her ass with short, sharp swats. Without the warm-up he usually gave her, the crisp slaps really stung. When she jumped higher than usual, his hand pressed down on the small of her back, pinning her in place as he finished her off with a flurry of whacks that had her shrieking into the mattress as tears sprang to her eyes.

Mother freaking ow! Should have kept my mouth shut.

Although, to be honest, she felt a little calmer. She’d been spiraling, and the spanking did what it always did—took her out of her head.

Hauling her back to her feet, Logan spun her around to face the mirror. Her cheeks were flushed, her eyes watery, and her hair a little wild looking.

“Do you know what I see?” he asked, his big body pressing against hers from behind, his hands sliding over the silky material of her negligee to caress her hips. “I see curves I love to touch. A body I love to look at. I see the woman who carried my children and who I am damn lucky to have.” His hand moved to the front, her stomach, which she hated, and closed his fingers, actually gripping the rolls.

Felicity stared in the mirror, caught somewhere between fascinated, horrified, and turned on. With her bottom still stinging, she didn’t dare try to stop him, even though she wanted to die of embarrassment.

“Remember that meme you showed me with the statue? What did it say?”

She knew what he was talking about. The one that had been going around with a husband pointing out to his wife, she had the same body type and rolls as Aphrodite. It had made her feel a little better about her own body the first time she’d seen it.

“I love your body,” Logan whispered in her ear, his hold gentling. “Please don’t insult something I love so much.”

Gulping, Felicity blinked back tears for a whole new reason. Her body was warm all over. If there had ever been a moment to fall in love with him all over again, this was it. This was the man—the Dom—she’d fallen for, head over heels, still holding her, supporting her, and taking her to task all these years later.

“Sorry,” she whispered.

Every time she started feeling insecure about how she looked, she was going to whip out this moment to remind herself how she saw herself wasn’t the only way she was seen. She was also