Page 19 of Curvy Cabin Fever

ARIA

M y eyes flutter open, and I go to stretch, stilling when I realize there are strong arms wrapped around my waist, holding me tight. I twist to see Damien’s dark hair against my pale skin and almost pinch myself.

How is this god so interested in me ? And not just him—Morgan, too.

My cheeks flush. If my friends could see me now, I don’t know what they’d say.

Jeannie would probably tell me to crack on, whereas Laura would clutch her pearls. She doesn’t mean to be such a prude; it’s her upbringing. And what would my delightful ex think?

Fuck him.

As though he senses my thoughts, Damien lifts his head to gaze at me, his dark green eyes assessing me in that cute, concerned way he has.

“What’s wrong?” his voice rumbles, sexy and still rough with sleep.

I inhale and reach for his messy hair, losing my fingers in it. “Nothing now.”

“Bad dream?” he presses, raising his brows.

I shake my head as his hands pull me closer to him, pressing my back against his warm, hard stomach.

And that’s not the only thing that’s hard.

“Well, what then?” Damien huffs, reaching out to grab my wrist as it snakes down to play with his dick.

My eyes widen, and it’s my turn to raise a brow. “You don’t want me to touch you?”

Damien scoffs and lifts my hand to his lips, kissing the soft skin of my wrist before he answers. My skin tingles, and I clench my thighs together.

“I always want you to touch me, but I also want to know what’s bothering you. It’s not just about fucking, Aria.”

I suck in a breath. He’s right, though—last night, we slept solidly in each other’s arms, no sex or kissing, just comfort and sleep.

“I was wondering what people would think of me,” I confide, closing my eyes as my cheeks flame. “Of me doing…” I let my words trail off as he chuckles, pressing a kiss to my upper back.

How the fuck is that erotic? Being kissed on the back?

But it is.

I shiver, and he finishes, “Two men at once?”

I twist my head and gape at him, but he shrugs, rolling me onto my back. I yank at the covers, not wanting him to see my flab. I don’t care what he says about loving every inch of my body—I am not comfortable exposing it to him or anyone else.

My flab is private, thank you.

“Damien!” I half laugh, half scold, and he smirks, making the butterflies in my tummy riot.

“So fucking what? Who cares what people think?” Damien demands, his fingers trailing down my arm, heading south. He continues, watching me as I stiffen, my hand gripping his wrist this time.

I can’t explain it. I love my body, but I know it’s big and flabby.

I struggle to fit in any clothes, let alone ones that flatter me.

Dressing is a fucking nightmare, so I go for leggings and tunics.

Dresses and stuff. I have a few pairs of faithful jeans, though, and I love them. Elasticated waists and all.

“I care,” I tell him, attempting to hold his hand away from me.

“Are you trying to stop me from touching you?” Damien asks, his voice suddenly deep. “Seriously, Aria? Who fucking hurt you, babe?”

Suddenly, the air is too thick, and my throat feels like it’s swelling up. I need to say something, but my eyes are pricking with tears, and I don’t want to start the day like this.

“You know, when you see the pretty girls, the ones that are all slim and beautiful, always laughing and smiling?” I croak out, and Damien stares at me wordlessly, his jaw clenching.

“The girls that you probably date, actually,” I add, shaking my head.

“Do you remember the girl always hanging back, her hair covering her face and…”

Trying to blend in.

“Always ignored by all the guys,” I whisper as Damien gazes at me, his lips parting like he’s going to say something, but I stop him.

“Well, that’s the fat friend. She doesn’t get any attention, and guys always tell her she’s ‘the funny one’ or ‘friend zone’ her instantly. And that’s the nice guys.”

I close my eyes and hate everything at this very moment.

“I don’t get the guy , let alone guys. ”

I never win. The fat friend never does.

“We compromise.”

Damien sits up, his hands bunched into fists, his eyes deadly.“You don’t have to fucking compromise, Aria, and every man in this cabin wants to fucking own you.”

“I—" I start to protest, but he shakes his head.

“No, do you know why we are all acting like horny teenagers?” Damien’s eyes slide down my body.

I hastily cover it with the bedsheets; he returns to my eyes.

“Because you’re fucking delicious, Aria. So fucking pretty, and a body so addictive I could dine on it every day for the rest of my life and never want food again.”

Whoa.

“So I don’t care about the perfect women ,” Damien rasps, grabbing both wrists and pulling me to him.

My heart slams in my chest as he gazes at me, his tongue swiping his lower lip as I gasp.

“Let me tell you something about those ‘perfect women.’” Damien releases one wrist, then grips my chin and pulls me close to his face.

I don’t know what he’s planning to do, but ? —

Then he licks me. His tongue sweeps from the bottom of my jaw to my temple, and then he thrusts it into my mouth. We kiss like wild animals, but he breaks away, his eyes wild.

“They don’t taste like you do.”

A moan leaves my lips as he continues.

“They aren’t you . They aren’t my perfection . ”

My emotions hit me suddenly, almost winding me.

I drop my gaze as I remember every rejection and how I laughed it off, so no one would know how much it hurt.

How I watched every one of my friends gush over the hot football or basketball player they were dating or watched as they tried on skimpy outfits.

That was in high school, but it didn’t end there.

Oh no.

“My friends told me to leave him,” I explain, and Damien releases me, watching as I lift my knees to my chest, dragging the bed sheets with me.

“Who?” Damien questions, his voice dangerously low, as if it were filled with grit or stone.

Jeez.

“My ex.”

“Name.”

I shake my head, and he sighs heavily.

“You tell me, or I’ll find out my own way,” he insists, rolling his shoulders like the cocky prick that he is.

“Good luck,” I respond, a smile dusting the edges of my mouth.

Damien raises a brow and salutes me before reaching over to his bedside table and grabbing his sleek phone.

“What are you doing?” I demand with a frown, but he doesn’t answer me, not directly, anyway.

“Why did they tell you to leave him?”

I cross my arms, trying to be brave.

I can tell Damien this, can’t I? I’ve already told him I’m the fat friend, for fuck’s sake.

But the memory of Trevor fucking that thin blonde, the one I knew he had a thing for… in our apartment …

“Aria.” Damien huffs. “Why?”

“Because he was a dick,” I reply honestly. “But I told you, us fat girls have to compromise.”

“ Don’t call yourself that. Not in front of me, never.” Damien’s words are like a slap in the face as he barks them. “I’m fucking serious. Words have meaning, Aria. What you say is what you are; don’t ever put yourself down.”

I stare at him as he searches my eyes.

“Do you understand me?”

I nod, even though I don’t. I will always be the fat girl, the fat friend, but maybe just not in front of Damien. But then I remember every guy that rejected me; strangely enough, they were always good-looking bastards.

“Maybe you just have a fetish for fat women,” I point out, watching as he closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Come on, Damien, be real. Look at me.”

Damien opens his eyes and suddenly yanks the bedding away from me, exposing me and all my flab.

“ Damien !” I hiss, reaching for the covers, but they fall to the floor when he releases them, leaving me pretty much naked in front of him.

“I’m looking at you!” Damien snaps, waving a hand at me. “I see such a beautiful fucking woman! So what if all the losers before me didn’t see it? Maybe that’s because you are meant for me. ”

His chest rises and falls, and I swallow, the tears that were once threatening to fall soaking my cheeks.

I can’t speak. I don’t even know what to say.

“You should look at yourself, Aria, because I think you’re the most perfect fucking woman I’ve ever met.” Damien’s eyes narrow. “And now, I think it’s time you told me about your fucking ex.”