Page 47 of Beautiful Villain
“This doesn’t make things easier,” I said.
“No,” she whispered.“But it makes them better.”
That was the most dangerous thing she could have said.
I kissed her once more, and it felt like a promise I wasn’t ready to make.I held her there, breathing her in, forcing myself to stop before the line disappeared completely.
She took a step back.It was just one quiet movement, like she was giving herself space to breathe—or daring me to take it instead.
Then her hands lifted.
My attention locked onto them instantly.
Her fingers trembled as they reached for the knot at her chest, loosening it slowly, deliberately.The towel slipped an inch.Then another.I should have looked away.I didn’t.I couldn’t.My body went rigid, breath stalling somewhere between my lungs and my throat.
The towel slid free and fell to the floor in a soft heap at her feet.
She didn’t pose or preen.She didn’t try to hide, either.She just stood there, bare and real.Vulnerable in a way that had nothing to do with naked skin and everything to do with the way her shoulders tensed, the way her arms hovered for a second like she wasn’t sure what to do with them.Like she was bracing for judgment she’d already passed on herself.
I saw what she probably saw.
The curve of her hips she tried to shrink away from the world.The fullness of her chest she thought was too much.The soft line of her thighs where they touched.The way she held herself like she was apologizing for existing exactly as she was.
But whatIsaw… was beauty.She wasn’t polished.Nor perfect.But she was alive.Her skin was warm and flushed, still damp from the shower.Water clung to her in places it had no business lingering.Her dark hair framed her face, curling softly at her shoulders, drawing my eyes down whether I wanted them to go or not.
My chest tightened painfully.
This wasn’t lust born from hunger alone.It was something sharper that burned.A need that flared so fast it felt like my restraint had simply… evaporated.
She watched my face, searching it.Waiting for something—approval, rejection, confirmation of every cruel thought she’d ever had about herself.
What she got was the truth.My jaw clenched hard enough to ache.
“Jesus,” I breathed, before I could stop myself.
Her breath hitched.
I took a step forward without deciding to.My hands curled at my sides, fingers flexing like they were fighting orders from my brain.Every instinct I had screamed to touch her, to prove with my hands what my eyes already knew.
She wasn’t too much.She was everything.
The space between us charged, thick and humming.I could feel the loss of control settling in, heavy and inevitable.The careful man I was cracked, just enough to let something darker push through.
And that—that was the moment I knew how badly I’d fucked up.
18
Mikayla
Ihad never been taught to love my body.
No one sat me down and explained it like a lesson.But I saw the judgement in smaller ways.Side comments.Looks that lingered a second too long, then slid away.Advice disguised as concern.
You have a pretty face, Mikayla.
You’d be stunning if you lost a little weight.
You’re just… built big.
