Free Fat Girl by Leigh Carron Page B

Mick, and I know he’s restraining himself. There are times when I want to tell him to stop holding back. We’ve gone as far as second base. The first time Mick touched my breasts through my clothes, I panicked—for all of five seconds. Then I was consumed by hot tingles of pleasure. I wanted to feel his touch in other places. I wanted to experience what I read in romance novels and what I overheard girls whispering about in the bathroom. I wanted to feel Mick inside me.
    “I’d love to know what’s on your mind,” he says, interrupting my very private thoughts. “Especially just now. I hope I was involved in that one.”
    Mick winks at me and I blush. He makes my body heat up just by looking at me.
    We release our seat belts and remove our jackets. It took four days for us to figure out a way to sneak away. Eager for his kiss, I wait in anticipation. But when Mick turns back from tossing our coats onto the back seat, he’s handing me a blue manila folder. Disappointed, I say, “What’s this? Homework?”
    He laughs. “Look inside.” His excitement is palpable.
    Curious, I flip back the cover. The typed text reads Princess Dionna and the Dark Shadow by Micah Anthony Peters.
    I run my fingers across the title and look up into his smiling face. “Is this your story about the princess who kicks butt?”
    “Yep. I was thinking about you the entire time I wrote it. You’re my Princess Dionna.”
    I’ve never been anyone’s princess before. Anybody’s anything. “I don’t know what to say.”
    “You don’t have to say anything. Just promise me one thing.”
    “What?” I ask, gazing into those warm brown eyes that melt all my defenses.
    “Don’t read the ending first. I want you to experience it the way I wrote it, from start to finish. Will you do that for me, Dee?”
    In that moment, I couldn’t refuse him anything. “Yes.” I loop my arms around his neck. “Thank you.”
    “Welcome,” he says, nuzzling my neck before taking the book from me and tossing it in the back with our coats. “Now, where were we?” He grins. “Oh yeah, you were thanking me.”
    “Yes, I was.” I reach out to touch his face, the chiseled angles and bold lines. My fingertips ghost his right cheek, tracing the red scar. Then I caress it with my lips, wishing I could take away the angry mark and the memory.
    He sighs. “I love you, baby.”
    My heart swells and I glide my mouth over his, pouring everything I feel but can’t say into that kiss. He slides his hands around to my lower back, pulling me as close to him as the confines of the front seat will allow.
    Outside, the March evening air is damp and chilly, but inside, it’s warm and getting warmer. Soon, the small enclosure is ripe with passion. The tinted windows fog up, and our ragged breaths and wet, fervent kisses are the only sounds.
    “God, Dee,” he pants and levers me across the center console.
    The move is so sudden I don’t have time to prepare for it. In the graceless crossover, my long skirt rides up above my knees and my too-big behind hits the horn, causing an obnoxious blare. Honestly, I could die right there on the spot. “Sorry.”
    “Don’t be,” he says, pushing his seat all the way back to make room for me to straddle him. “Holding you like this is so much better.”
    Mick can always do that. Stop me from feeling embarrassed or self-conscious.
    He spins a cluster of curls around his fist and tugs my mouth back to his, while the other hand, at the small of my back, draws me down and closer to him.
    His kiss swallows my startled gasp. It’s not as if I haven’t ever felt his erection. But the feel of a big bulge against my stomach is far different from the feel of him, hard and insistent, between my legs.
    He releases my hair to massage my breasts, gently squeezing and teasing me through the layers of my blouse and cardigan. The rapid beat of my heart pumps into his touch.
    “You feel so good,” he murmurs. His thumbs stroke my