Fat Funny Famous

Chapter 12

When I hear the knock, I'm so wound up, I actually squeak, the small sound echoing around the honeymoon suite. I try to slow down; the temptation to sprint for the door and hurdle the couch just to let him in faster is compelling. I force myself to look around the room one more time, check that everything is perfect.

The lighting is soft, dim enough so the ocean below us can still be seen as the moon sparkles on the waves. Gentle music plays from hidden speakers; the suite is sound-proofed, thank god, (I checked by blasting Spice Girls and standing in the corridor) because I know I won't be able to enjoy myself quietly. The king-sized bed is neatly covered with pristine snowy linen, and I shudder with anticipation for a moment, hoping that when morning comes, it will be in complete disarray.

My fingers tremble as I open the door. Erik is there, a blonde god, wearing a simple white shirt over clean jeans. He's freshly showered: I can smell the coconut of his body wash on his skin, his damp hair is combed back from his face. My mouth actually waters – I didn't even realise that was a possible reaction on my horny scale, but apparently, my body finds Erik's literally edible.

He steps inside, his eyes fixed on me as he sucks his teeth. "My god... Mila..."

I can't help but smile. At least if I've helplessly fallen for this guy, he's got it just as bad for me. I'm wearing a silk kimono robe in a deep navy. I let it part just enough for him to see the lacy white La Perla set I'm wearing underneath: high-waisted panties and a bra that criss-crosses over my heart.

With a dramatic kick, he uses his foot to close the door, and we crash together like two waves colliding in a storm. This is our first real kiss; nothing we've done on set counts, because those moments were designed to be seen. This moment is ours alone.

His fingers are threaded through my hair; I can feel him massaging my scalp as my long hair dances around my shoulders. I groan against his mouth, my fingers desperately clutching at the hem of his tee. I need his skin. I need to feel him, to reassure myself that this man is real, that he's mine, and not some fever dream illusion of my sex-starved brain.

He lifts his arms as I tug the tee off him, then I stand back for a moment, needing a beat to admire the work of art that is his body. His torso is a perfect triangle that slopes from his shoulders down to slender hips. In between, there's the perfection of his biceps, the ripple of his cut stomach, the little muscles along his flanks and the trail of blonde hair that leads into the waistband of his jeans. "Erik..." I whimper, overcome.

He senses what I need immediately. With strong arms, he draws me close, wrapping me up inside his arms. "We don't have to do anything," he says, his voice vibrating through my body. "I love you, Mila. I will wait for you to be ready."

I laugh, nervous and giddy. "Dude, I'm ready. I'm so ready, I think I could come just by staring at you at this point."

"Then why do you look so worried?"

"Because I've never felt like this before." I tremble with the intimacy. I'm still wearing my robe, but I feel naked in this moment. "I'm in love with you, and I know that once we make love, I'm never going to be the same. It's scary."

He kisses the top of my head. "I'm frightened too," he admits. "I didn't expect this, didn't expect you or the way I feel about you. But, Mila... I promise, I am yours. For as long as you'll have me."

Forever. I don't say it, but my heart screams the word into the universe, begging whatever sky genie might be listening to grant me this one simple request: that this man is mine forever. "Take me to bed," I whisper. I have no words left; my body needs to do all the talking.