“Really, I’m in great shape, huh?” he rumbled. “You like what you see?” he said casually while cracking an egg into a bowl.
And what could I say? Mr. Jones was positively gorgeous at that moment, the sun shining on his ruffled dark hair, casually handsome, confident, deft with his hands as he mixed things up, his big body at ease and yet filled with latent power, energy that I could feel crackling all around us.
And so I just nodded silently, my eyes wide, lips trembling. Chris paused for a moment to lean towards me, taking my mouth in a sweet kiss, his lips gentle, tracing mine, savoring my plushness, marking what was already his.
“Mmm,” he murmured, drawing back to stare into my wondrous eyes. I was going to melt into the floor right there, slip off my stool and became a puddle on the ground because the kiss had been so warm and so utterly surprising, I was breathless. The big man had tricks up his sleeve, a side to him that was gentle, tender, warm and caring.
But Mr. Jones just shot me another grin.
“Baby,” he said smoothly. “You’re gonna see more sides to me than you ever imagined, more than you ever bargained for,” he said with a wink. “Because so far, you’ve only known me as Mr. Jones, the boss man, but we’re about to change all that. We’re gonna become something more, a man and a woman, exploring each other, enjoying each other, and you’ll get a feel for what I like, as well as what you like … and love,” he said with a heated glance.
But before I could reply, warmth rushing to my pelvic region once more, Mr. Jones poured a huge cup of orange juice and set it before me determinedly.
“But first,” he said with a growl. “We’re eating.”
And I flushed again.
“But I already ate,” I protested in a small voice, although the orange juice bubbled invitingly, the vivid color indicating that it was chock full of nutrients and vitamins.
“No worries,” rumbled Chris casually. “We eat five meals per day around here, and baby, you’d look better bigger,” he added with a sly smile. “You’re too thin.”
I gasped then, my cheeks coloring.
“Too thin?” I parroted dumbly. “But… but … look at me!” I sputtered, gesturing to my figure. Even in the college sweatshirt and jeans, it was obvious that I was curvy, the cotton unable to hide the swell of my girls, my thighs thick on the stool. I guess there’s this new thing called “thigh gape” where skinny girls have a hole between their legs, but I was the complete opposite. I have “thigh smush,” where there’s absolutely no space between my clunkers, no light to be seen.
But I like it. I love being curvy, sassy, and fine, it makes me feel confident and powerful, it was just surprising to hear that my man wanted more. After all, the “preferred body shape” was skinny, but I guess Chris had different tastes?
And the big man nodded, grinning at me again.
“Yep baby,” he confirmed, while slipping a stack of pancakes onto a dish. “You’re gorgeous honey, but I think about twenty pounds more would do the trick,” he said, carefully spurting whipped cream onto the golden mound of dough. “Yep, about twenty sounds right,” he said before pushing the heaping mass towards me.
And I gasped, not just at the amount of food, which was unbelievable, but also at his comment.
“Twenty pounds!” I parroted, hardly believing my ears. “I’d have to eat non-stop to put that on.”
And Chris just grinned at me again.
“Yep, and we’re starting today,” he rumbled, “I’m gonna help you honey, don’t worry, I do all the cooking around this place, I’m good with the pots and pans.”
And blushing, I melted even a little more. A sexy man who was an expert chef, who could whip up every meal, who wanted me curvy, sexy and bouncy all for him? Oh god, this was like a dream come true, a romance hero come to life and I dug in obediently, cutting off a slice of fluffy pancake, dipping it in gooey syrup before putting it in my mouth.
“Don’t forget the butter,” added Chris helpfully, pushing a huge tub of the good stuff towards me. “Everything’s better with butter,” he said with another wink, seating himself on the stool next to me and helping himself to a short stack.
And so my introduction to my ten days wasn’t scary or weird at all. In fact, it seemed like a completely harmless breakfast with an older man, one who was funny and charming, one who went out of his way to cook for me, make me laugh, put me at ease. I could almost say that there was nothing to worry about, except reality had to intrude at some point. Once the last bite of pancakes was finished, I leapt up and began clearing the plates.