Misadventures of a Curvy Girl (Misadventures #18)(43)

He’s so close and so beautiful and his expression is unnervingly kind. I can’t keep looking at him; the gross little voice in my head won’t let me.

“Ireland,” Ben warns. “Talk or be thrown in.”

“I’m not doing either—”

With a movement so quick I barely see it, he’s on his feet and has one of my hands while Caleb has the other. I’m yanked up, and before I can catch my balance, I’m in the water, my toes touching soft, cool mud before I kick back up to the surface, spluttering.

They stand naked above me, looking very proud of themselves. “There,” Caleb says, laughter in his voice. “That wasn’t so bad, was it? Aren’t you cooler now?”

“This dress is dry-clean only, you dicks,” I grouse. But I can’t lie… The water does feel good.

“Now that it’s all wet, you should take it off,” Caleb suggests. His cock seems to agree, thickening as he peers down at me in the water. “Your underthings too. You know, in case they’re also dry-clean only.”

I think for a moment. I can’t help but be squeamish about the idea of stripping in the bright, unforgiving light of the summer sun, but if I get in the water right away, maybe it won’t feel so exposing…

I swim toward the ladder and pull myself up, and before I can reach for my zipper, Caleb and Ben are helping me unzip and peel off the wet dress. I shoo them away out of instinct, and with schoolboy laughing and whooping, they jump back into the water.

Too late I realize my mistake. Right next to me, they wouldn’t have been able to properly see my body, but now that they’re back in the water, I’m totally exposed again. It’s like being on a fucking runway, and their view up at me is far from the ideal angle.

Just finish undressing quickly and get down the ladder, I coach myself, turning away before I unhook my bra. Then I discover facing away from them means they’ll see more of the cellulite on my ass and on the backs of my thighs—but being in profile means they’ll see my belly. Facing them means they’ll see my breasts under the cruel duress of gravity.

Fuck.

But when I drop the bra and turn, I don’t see two pairs of judgmental eyes cataloging my every stretch mark and dimple. Instead, both men have swum to the edge of the dock and are watching me with hot gazes full of hunger. One of Caleb’s hands is moving lazily under the water, and I flush when I realize what he’s doing.

“Now your panties,” Ben grates out. He’s breathing hard as he watches me. “Those too.”

Their hungry stares fill me with power, and my insecurity melts away as if it were never there. I shimmy out of my panties and even give a little hip swivel as I do.

“Fuck me,” Caleb groans. “Get in here, peach. Now.”

I do. I run and jump in, wobbles forgotten, and later that afternoon, when the three of us fuck under the shade of a big cottonwood tree, I can’t even remember what it feels like to be embarrassed at all.





The nightlight in Caleb’s room is for Ben.

I have this epiphany as I’m gently turned into Caleb’s arms and Ben slides out of the bed to go to his room.

The nightlight is so Ben can find his way in the dark.

Away from us.

My heart squeezes as I press my face into Caleb’s warm chest and let the steady swell of his breathing lull me back to sleep.

I wake alone in the morning, which is normal for us. Ben never sleeps the whole night in here, and Caleb gets up around dawn to tend to the farm. I stretch and sigh at the darkened nightlight. I want Ben to stay the night with us. His bed is only a twin—something I think was an intentional choice, meaning no one could ever sleep in his bed with him—so it has to be Caleb’s bed. I wish there was a way to tell him I’d be happy to sleep with lights on, the television on, anything he needed, without it becoming awkward, but I can’t think of the right words. The words to reassure him that I don’t think he’s broken or damaged, that I simply want to share everything with him. Sleep included.

I’m going to talk to him about it, I decide as I shower and get dressed. Today. If it’s nightmares, then we’ll work through it. If it’s space, then I’ll sleep on the floor. I’ll do anything it takes, but it makes me miserable to feel him slipping away every night when the answer could be within our reach.

However, talking to him may come sooner than I planned. I get downstairs to find both men waiting for me in the kitchen, which is not normal.

“I made breakfast,” Ben says, pulling out a chair for me and presenting me with a mug of coffee and then a plate of irresistible farm food. Fried mushrooms, eggs, and bacon, with a thick slab of toast, butter melting on top.

“Thanks!” I take the plate, and I’m about to demolish the toast when I notice them looking at me.

I’ve never liked being watched while I’m eating. It makes me immediately and terribly self-conscious, as if I’m doing something wrong by it. As if I should have refused the food or asked for raw kale and sunflower seeds instead.

But there’s nothing about Caleb or Ben that looks anything other than their normal handsome and slightly-obsessed-with-me selves right now. Caleb has his usual bearded grin as he sits next to me, and Ben his usual hungry gaze as he sits on the other side.

Relax, Ireland. They aren’t Brian and your sister. They’re not judging you.