Page 152 of Return Policy
“You’re bossy tonight.” I do as I’m told, putting my hands behind my head as she fluffs the surrounding covers, strategically covering my dick.
“Fuck yes.” She nods her head like an artistic director before snapping away.
“I better get some compensation if this ends up on OnlyFans.”
“Sorry, all funds will go towards replacing my torn thongs.” She laughs, taking a few more pictures before setting her camera down on the table.
“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I sit quickly and snatch her camera. “If I’m art, then you’re the entire damn Louvre, baby. You’re the one who should be captured.”
“Elijah,” she groans. “I look awful. I don’t even have makeup on.”
“Are you kidding me? You arebreathtaking. As you are. Right now.” I put a palm on her cheek, rubbing the pad of my thumb under her eye. “You are the prettiest damn thing I’ve ever seen. Your eyes remind me of Christmas trees, and that smile fucking makes my heart explode. I’m the luckiest guy in every damn room. Whether there’s a stadium full of people or we’re completely alone. Because I haveyou.”
43
SOPHIA
“I’ll look ridiculous, Elijah,” I protest, standing buck naked in the center of his room.
“No,” he argues, hands on his hips. “You lookdelicious.”
I groan, and he grabs my arm, gently tugging me toward a floor length mirror near his closet. “What are you doing?”
He places his warm hands on my shoulders and spins me toward the mirror. “I want you to look at yourself.”
My eyes wander the mirror, taking in our reflection. His glorious, toned, naked frame is behind me as I stand awkwardly. I tilt my head, attention turning to my exposed body, eyes snagging on the tummy pouch I can’t get rid of, and I suck in by reflex.
“Stop that.”
“What?”
“Looking for things you wish you could change.”
“Easy for you to say, Mr. Perfect,” I grumble.
“Everyone has things they want to change about themselves.”
“Oh yeah? And what the hell would you want to change?”
He sticks out a foot, wiggling his toes. “I wish my feet were smaller.”
“What?” I scoff. “There’s nothing wrong with your feet.”
“And there’s nothing wrong with your stomach.”
“Touché… And you know what they say about men with big feet.” I wink, and he rolls his eyes, then his expression softens.
“I just wish you could see yourself through my eyes.” He kisses me on the head. “Repeat after me, okay?”
“What?” I laugh, turning to look at him, but he nudges my gaze back to the mirror.
“Repeat. After. Me.”
I exhale a shaky breath. “Okay.”
“I am perfect exactly the way I am.”
“Yeah, you are.” I grin, waggling my eyebrows.
