It's Not About You by Olivia Reid Page B

and my ass landed hard on the smooth ceramic surface of the stove.  
    This put me face to face with him. I cupped his face in my hands, amazed at how soft his beard was, at how strong his jaw felt. He moved his hands over my shoulders, down my sides and then to my thighs. He rested his forehead to mine. "Grace…I've been wanting to do this all night…from the moment I saw you. No…since I bought that damn French Press. I can take you here, or we can go—"  
    I put a finger to his lips and wrapped my legs around his hips. "My bedroom's down the hall on the left. Last room."  
    He moved his hands to my ass and supported me there as he lifted me off the island and we moved to the door, with me backward. I kissed his chin, pulled his lips between mine and sucked as he made it down the hall and then stepped inside my sanctuary.  
    We stood in the center of the room. The wall facing the street was nothing but windows, a perk the previous owner had added before we bought it. There were two closets and I'd moved my bed into the far wall.  
    He set me down and I moved to the door and closed it. Locked it.  
    Whether this would be a one night stand or something more, at that moment, all I wanted to do was feel like a woman again, and make love to a man.  
    This man.  
    To Michael.  

Michael removed his shoes, then his socks, as we stood in the center of my room, facing each other. I removed my own shoes, no socks. I'd worn a dress with no underwear, without the knowledge I was going to be in Michael Oliver's arms.  
    I unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off his beautiful chest. He was thin, but well defined. A six pack beneath lean pecs and broad shoulders. Michael was all hard, lean, muscle. I unfastened his jeans and he pushed them down. Someone else wasn't wearing underwear either and his cock sprang up to great me.  
    It was large and hard and the tip glistened with precum.  
    When he reached for my dress I hesitated, a natural defense for me as I backed up and took his wrists.  
    "Grace…I want to see you."  
    "No…I'm not as beautiful as you, or as Mary or any of the young girls I work with. I've had a kid and I haven't always taken care of myself. I'm fat—"  
    He moved fast and pulled me close, his cock hard against my stomach. I could feel it through the dress. He put both hands on my face. "I don't care. Do you understand me? I'm fascinated with you. You . Grace Murphy. A mom. A barista. And a damn good cook. All I want…" he said as he moved his hands down to my shoulders and toyed with the straps of my dress. "Is you ."  
    I blinked a few times and swallowed. I was preparing myself for the rejection I knew would come. For the look of disappointment on his face when he saw my sagging breasts, or the bit of fat on my middle that pregnancy gave me and age wouldn't let me get rid of.  
    He moved his hands to the back and unzipped the dress before he pulled it off my shoulders and let it fall to the floor.  
    No bra. No panties.  
    Just me.  
    I watched his face with a combination of horror and sadness. I was expecting it. I'd seen it on Burt's face enough…not that we'd made love in ten years.  
    When Michael smiled I frowned. Was he different somehow? Did he smile when he was disappointed? I heard some people do that. Show the opposite. He moved his hands over my chest, then gently fondled each breast before he moved to my waist and then over my hips. His eyes roamed over my body until his hands found mine and pulled them up to his lips. He kissed the back of my hands and I knew this was the end. He'd seen the package unpacked and well…it was just too old.  
    "You're beautiful, Grace. Don't let anyone… anyone tell you different."  
    Beautiful?  
    I looked down at myself. Yeah I'd lost weight and done a bit of weight training with Kyle's help, but I was far from beautiful. Maybe if he put his glasses back on…
    I didn't expect his next move. He knelt down in front of me, took my hips in his