11. Chapter 11
Chapter 11
Ginny
I squeeze my eyes closed, hiding myself from the mirror in front of me. I don’t know what he has planned, but I don’t think I can handle it.
“Open them up, Beautiful,” he softly commands from behind me. I can feel his body heat, even though he’s not touching me.
There’s no way he thinks I’m beautiful. Why is he continuing to use this joke against me?
“Every time you try to tell yourself that I’m lying, I’m going to be here to remind you that I’m not. You, Virginia Mills, are beautiful.”
“Yeah, okay.”
“Why are you so hard on yourself? Why do you treat yourself so horribly?”
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“Try me. Tell me what you see when you look in the mirror.”
I look at myself. “My hair is a mess, my face is too round, my boobs sag, the fat roll around my middle makes me look dumpy, and I have more dimples in my thighs than a kindergarten class picture. Is that what you want to hear?”
“Not at all. Can I tell you what I see?”
“I’d really prefer you didn’t.”
“Tough.” He smiles at me through the mirror. “Let me have this.”
“Not like it’ll change anything,” I mumble to myself. “I’ll still be me and you’ll still be you, and that’ll never happen.”
“I see a talented, intelligent, funny, caring, and loving woman.”
“None of that has to do with my body.”
“Hush. I’m getting there. Don’t rush this.”
He raises his hand like he’s going to touch me, and the butterflies in my stomach take flight, my heart is running a marathon, and the goosebumps on my arms have goosebumps.
“Ginny, can I touch you?”
Without a word, because I seem to be unable to form those right now, I nod.
He lifts the ends of my hair and, oh my God, sniffs it! “You always have this scent that makes my mouth water. It’s like sugar cookies and strawberries. Yes, your hair is a mess. But it’s a beautiful mess. It looks like you’ve always just rolled out of bed after the best sex of your life, and I just want to knot my fingers in it and pull you close.”
I shiver at his words, my eyes locked on him.
“Your face?” He runs his knuckles down my cheek, heating my skin. “Blushes such a nice pink. And when you smile, your eyes crinkle and shine. Your emotions are on your face, and if it were any different, you wouldn’t be you. It’s perfect.”
I’m standing stock still, afraid to move. Or breathe. Because when I do, I’m surrounded by Joker . Fresh pine and clean air, reminding me of sitting on the porch at the cabin. It clears my mind and settles my soul. I watch the man standing behind me, the square line of his jaw. The small tick on the right side where he’s clenching, restraining from doing or saying what he wants. His nose is a little crooked, like it’s been broken a time or two, making him look a little dangerous. And his eyes? Fuck me, if those aren’t windows into a soul that is both dark and light. His shoulders are strong, but not bulky, and his arms are every woman’s fantasy—strong, defined, that one vein running from his wrist to his elbow that draws the eye.
“You done looking at me, Beautiful?” The smirk alone is enough to make me blush, but the eyebrow raise makes my breath catch. I nod. It’s all I can do. “Your thoughts are screaming awfully loud, you know.”
“What are they saying?”
“That you’re interested. Intrigued. A little scared. Maybe a little turned on.”
“I wouldn’t really know what that feels like,” I admit quietly.
“Well, that’s a discussion for another day. Tonight, we focus on my favorite topic. You.”
“No,” I laugh nervously.
“Oh, yes.” He checks me out in the mirror, scanning me from head to toe. “I think we’ll start here,” he finally announces.
“Where?”
“You can’t see this back, but I can,” he whispers in my ear. “It’s muscular and strong. Because I’ve seen you at the gym lifting weights, I know how strong you are.”
The tips of his fingers trail down my spine, making me jolt at both the contact and the information. How has he seen me at the gym and I’ve never seen him? And, oh, God, does that mean he’s watched me workout and get all sweaty and gross? Ugh. If I had any chance of a shot with him before, that’s gone now.
He reaches for the hem of my school shirt, lifting it slowly, never breaking eye contact with me. Silently asking permission that I grant. I’m too stunned that this man is taking off my clothes to stop him. I’m too turned on to be mortified. Once my shirt has been removed, I’m standing in front of him in only my bra, and he massages my shoulders. I can’t help the sigh I release, but my breath catches as he speaks again.
“These shoulders and arms? They carry instruments with ease. I’ve watched you play your cello for hours and not get tired. The talent you have should be shared with the world, Ginny. It’s haunting and beautiful. Soulful and mesmerizing. You can play for hours, but I’d never tire of watching.”
I stare at him through the mirror, my mouth open, but still unable to say anything. Why is he doing this? When his eyes move down my body, I automatically try to raise my hands to cover myself. I’m not naked, but this is too much. He stops me, pulling my hands away.
“I’m not going to take it off…yet.”
“Because you don’t want to see them?” Of course, he doesn’t want to see them. They’re mine.
“No, Beautiful. Because when you show those glorious tits to me, I want it to be because it’s what you want to do, and not something you’ll regret later. Your decision.”
“What does that mean?”
“It means that the negative words in your head about what I do and don’t want to do with and to you need to be sorted out before I act on those things. Besides, we have more body parts to discuss.”
My eyes scan farther down my body. My jeans sit right at my waist, my love handles clear in the mirror. Ugh. Who wants to see that? My stomach is too big, my hips too wide.
“Stop,” he whispers.
“Huh?” I come back to myself, my eyes snapping to his.
“You aren’t listening, Beautiful.”
“To what?”
“To what I’m saying. You’re only hearing the negative words in your head, and I’m trying to quiet them.”
“How do you know what’s going on in my head?”
“Your face, Ginny. You are telling me everything with just your face.”
“And what’s it saying right now?”
“You cringed when you looked down your torso. Your eyes immediately went to your stomach and then your hips. If you had eyes in the back of your head, they’d have looked at your ass, too.” He leans in so close I can feel the fabric of his shirt on my bare shoulders. “Tell me I’m wrong.”
I bite my lip, knowing my eyes are betraying me again by watering. “I can’t,” I admit, not even sure if it was out loud.
“You don’t have to, because I’m going to tell you how wrong you are. I’m going to touch you again. If you don’t want me to, tell me to stop.” He wraps his arms around me from behind, his hands resting on my stomach at the top button of my jeans.
Goose bumps rise on my arms, and I involuntarily suck in my gut, logically knowing the jeans already do that and give up, blowing out a big breath of air. Doesn’t help with the watering eyes.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Because I think it’s been a really long time since someone pointed out that every inch of you is perfection. And this area my hands are on right now? Turns me the fuck on.” He emphasizes his point my pressing into my lower back, his hard cock making an appearance. “It means you enjoy food. There’s not a fucking thing wrong with that. It means you live, Virginia. It’s a soft place to lay my head when we’re in bed on a Saturday afternoon while you play with my hair. That’s a fantasy, Beautiful.” He slides his hands across my belly to my hips, gripping them and pulling me back against him. “These? Woman, you have no idea what a fucking goddess you are when you release these hips. Men drool over you when you walk. The sway is hypnotic.”
With no ceremony, he undoes the button on my jeans and kneels behind me to pull them down my legs. I step out of them, acutely aware his face is at ass level and I’m standing here in just my bra and underwear. I feel completely exposed, and the tears are freely falling now.
“One more comment. For now.”
“What?” I say through building sobs.
“Your legs. God, Ginny. Your legs are the things of men’s fantasies. Thick, strong. Something to hold on to while feasting on you. While fucking you. Worshiping you.”
These words never would have come out of Keith’s mouth. Feasting? No one has ever done that to me, and Keith certainly wasn’t going to. It was my job to pleasure him, not his job to pleasure me. But none of that matters. Joker is saying things that aren’t reality. I know what I look like. I know I’m not a fantasy. I appreciate what he’s trying to do, but I don’t appreciate the lies.
“Why are you lying?”
“I’m not.” No argument, just a simple admission of his truth.
“I don’t believe you.”
“I know. But I’ll show you. I’ll prove it to you with my actions until you do.”
“Why?”
“Don’t you get it? I’ve been falling in love with you for over two years. But you can’t accept that until you love yourself. And you can’t do that until you get all the nastiness planted in your brain by dickless assholes out.”
“I…you…wait. You’ve been falling in love with me?”
“I have. But you were with someone I thought made you happy. And that’s all I want. For you to be happy. One day, I hope you see that you could do that with me. That I’ll spend all my days making you happy, because I want nothing more than to see you achieve your dreams.”
Here I am, standing in front of a man who is such a ten, in my bra and panties no less, listening to him declare his love and intentions to me. This man, who protects those close to him, who silently takes care of things, telling me— ME —that he thinks I’m perfect. I turn around, facing him, no glass protecting me, and I step into his waiting arms.
“I think I’ve been in love with you, too. I just never thought it was a possibility.”
“Anything is possible if you want it bad enough.” He smirks.
I roll my eyes and laugh.
“What do you want, Beautiful?”
I stare into his eyes. Open and happy. Inviting me in. What do I want?
“I really want you to kiss me,” I confess.
“That I can do.”
He releases his hold on me, only to cup my face, his thumbs caressing my cheeks. When his lips meet mine, I’m here for it. My entire body lights up, electricity zinging from head to toe. When his tongue slips along the seam of my lips, I feel like my knees will give out, but he’s got me. Right when I’m debating my ability to climb his body like a tree, he pulls back.
“We have to stop, Beautiful. It’s late, and we need to get you to bed. You’ve had a long day, and I don’t want anything we do to be followed by regrets.”
“I won’t regret it.”
He shakes his head, and there’s a pang of rejection, but before it can fully form, he reaches out and tucks my hair behind my ear. Leaning in, he kisses my cheek before whispering,
“If you still want this in the morning, I’m all yours. But know that there’s no turning back. If we take this step, there is no you and there is no me. Just us. Together.”
I stare at him, dumbfounded. Did he just…? All I get from him is a smile as he opens the bathroom door and leads me down the hall to the spare bedroom. He pulls the covers back for me and gives me a shirt. It’s another soft shirt that smells like him when I pull it over my head. Once I’m covered, he pulls me into his arms and holds me tight.
“As much as I want to keep you by my side tonight, this is for the best. Think on everything. I meant what I said.”
He steps back and turns to the door.
“Joker,” I call his name. When he turns to look at me, I smile. “Good night.”
“Night, Beautiful.”
And then he’s gone.
I climb into the bed, and the day finally smacks me in the head. The football game. Watching Jimmy fall over on the field. Joker. I fall into a fitful sleep wishing I had asked him to stay.