Craving Cinderella: My Curvy Valentine

He is bare-ass naked as he slips back under the water, and I can’t help but admire his body once more. He’s just as perfect as I imagined he would be, and honestly, seeing him in person just makes it all the hotter to me. I love the way he looks. His hair is a little damp from the hot tub, and I reach up to brush aside a strand of it that is clinging to his forehead before I take the champagne glass from him and take a sip. It’s delicious – probably crazy-expensive, but that’s what I get for hanging out with a man like him.

"Thank you," I murmur, and he grins at me.

"My pleasure," he replies, raising his glass to me and taking a sip. I lean back in the hot tub, feeling less self-conscious about my body than I thought I would be, and wonder where the hell I am meant to start when it comes to him.

"What are you thinking?" he asks, reaching out to take my hand.

I guess I should just be honest, right? "I don’t know why you’re so interested in me," I confess. I know that I should be trying to exude confidence right now, but honestly, I just want to know what a man like this sees in a person like me.

He cocks his head to the side. "Really?”

"Really," I admit. "I mean, I’m just – I'm just a teacher at an elementary school. It’s not like I live anything close to the lifestyle that you’re used to."

"Remember how we met?" he reminds me.

I nod.

"At the school gate, bringing stuff in for Tallie?" he continues. "That’s the life that I’m used to. All the Hollywood stuff, that’s just set dressing. Being with my family, that’s what I really care about. That’s what really matters to me."

I feel a little pang of sadness, and I have to glance away from him before I let it get the better of me. Whenever someone talks about their family, I am reminded, with a sharp pain, that I am never going to get to see mine again. Not after what happened.

"What’s wrong?" he asks. I am surprised that he has been able to sense that something is up – most people wouldn’t even notice that I had changed at all. I shake my head. I don’t want to bring him down. This is meant to be fun, and it’s not going to stay that way if I go ahead and dump all of my shit onto him.

"It’s – it’s nothing," I try to offer, but I know that he doesn’t believe me.

"You can talk to me," he tells me, and he brings my hand to his lips, planting a kiss against my knuckles. I don’t know if this is a good idea or not, but hell – if he wants to know, then I am going to tell him.

"I... I lost my parents a few years ago," I confess to him. "There was a fire at their house, neither made it out alive. They were both just... gone, so fast. My entire family. I’ve never really known my extended family and I felt like I just lost any connection that I might have had to anything that helped to make me, me. You know?”

I shake my head. He must think I’m crazy, dumping all this on him out of nowhere. But instead, he squeezes my hand tight, as though he understands exactly what I am feeling right now.

"I’m so sorry," he murmurs. His words sound genuine, and it’s hard not to feel the emotion starting to rise up and get the better of me. I keep talking, hoping that if I go fast enough, I’ll be able to keep anything too intense from getting under my skin.

"And ever since then I’ve just wanted a family of my own again," I tell him. "I’ve just wanted someone to settle down with, someone who can make me feel like all of it’s going to be okay again, you know? That’s why I got into teaching. I know that I can have an impact on those kids in a way that matters. All I want is to know that I’m doing some good in the world, and that people will remember me as someone that helped them. Someone who cared about them. Because I know how hard it can be to feel like you’re alone in the world..."

I trail off. This is too much for him to take in. We have only just met. But there is something about the way he looks at me, something about the way he touches me, that makes me feel as though we have known each other forever.

It’s hard to deny how good it feels to be the focus of his attention, to have his curious eyes on me as he waits for me to keep talking. I want to tell him everything. But there is no rush for that. I need to show a little restraint, or else I am going to scare him off with everything that I have been through.