He sees me. Really sees me. Fifty pounds in either direction, and the look in his eyes—that intensity, the longing, the desire—never changed.

If I asked myself why I’m standing here, Jared’s curiosity is practically foaming at the mouth.

“That night was more traumatic for me than you probably realize,” I say, starting in the middle instead of the beginning, taking up a thought that had no precedence and hoping he’s following. “It was probably more traumatic than it should have been. I’m not the first girl caught naked in a room with a guy.”

I laugh, even though nothing is funny. Jared watches me intently through lingering clouds of steam.

“But I was already self-conscious,” I remind him.

“You wanted the lights out.”

“Right.” I lick my lips and fiddle with the belt of the fluffy white robe. “I had a boyfriend who was less than impressed with me when the lights were on and shared his opinion freely.”

Jared steps toward me, muffling a curse, but I put my hand up to stop him. With only scraps of clothing between the two of us, and all this steam and naked flesh just under surface, if he gets too close, this conversation will catch fire, and I need to get this out.

“Just . . . let me speak.”

He pauses, leaning one hip against the marble counter, eyes trained on my face.

“I’ve always had a contentious relationship with food.” I swallow the embarrassment that would choke this confession. “I’ve always struggled with my weight, and it got worse in college. I gained a lot in those years, but I was also in a relationship with a guy who used me. He pretended to be attracted to me so I could help him academically. He cheated on me.”

Iron streaks through my hollow chuckle.

“Another reason I swore I would never cheat on anyone,” I say. “I know how bad it feels. There were things he said that, even to this day, make me second and third guess myself. I hate that he and other people who didn’t mean me well have had that much power in my life, but they have.”

“Banner, you don’t have to tell me all of this,” Jared says, anger in his frown and the flat line of his mouth. “It makes me want to find them all and pound their faces in. They’re blind and dumb.”

A tiny smile lifts the corners of my mouth, lifts my heart.

“That’s why I want to tell you.” I break my own rule and walk over to him. I stop a few inches shy of sharing body heat, but our stares heat up, igniting the space left between us. “There’s no difference in the way you looked at me, ten years and over fifty pounds ago, and the way you looked at me by the pool.”

“No,” he agrees, the timber of his voice deeper and richer the closer I come. “You were incredible then, and you’re magnificent now. I’ve never met another woman like you, and I liked you from the first day of class.”

“I know.” I nod then shake my head. “It was impossible to believe at first, but I know. That’s why I bought Prescott’s prank so easily. It made more sense, when the truth didn’t. That you—”

“Wanted you,” he interrupts softly.

“Yes.” I hesitate and study the brick red polish on my toes for a second. “After the things my ex had said and done, things that had been said all my life, it was hard to believe someone like you wanted me.”

“But I did.” He bridges the space separating us, reaching over to push a swathe of wet hair over my shoulder and cupping my neck. “I do. A lot.”

He tugs me by my neck gently but firmly enough to pull me closer until my breasts, through the robe, brush his naked chest. I can’t resist touching him, tracing the hard muscles and brushing the stiff nipples with the tips of my fingers. His sharply indrawn breath doesn’t stop me now that I’ve started. I round my hands on his shoulders, caressing the taut skin with my palms.

“You’re so beautiful,” I whisper, my hands addicted to the feel of him.

“It’s only a shell,” Jared says, his words seductive, his breathing more erratic. “I’ll crack it open for you and pour everything out.”

He slides the hand at my neck down to my shoulder, caressing the nakedness inside the robe.

“See. This is what I was afraid of,” I say with a raspy chuckle. I step away from his hand, away from his perfectly sculpted chest and abs. “I had so many things I wanted to say.”

“And then can we fuck?” Jared asks, impatient passion nipping at his words.

His coarse words may as well be a couplet, a sonnet, an ode considering how they make me feel. The consistency of how he wants me, how it never fluctuates, makes me want him more. More than the ridged terrain of his torso. More than the water-darkened gold hair curling at his neck or the stormy-sea blue eyes and rugged masculine beauty of his face.

“Almost,” I laugh and run my fingers nervously through my damp hair. “I shared all of that to say I’ve always been inhibited about my body. I’ve gotten better. Counseling and, I guess, living, maturing, becoming more confident. All of it has helped.”

I grin up at him.

“And, no, the lights don’t have to be off anymore.”

A slow smile spreads across his lips, and his eyes still glow hot but are solemn.

“I have disciplines,” I tell him. “Things I do to keep myself in a routine and consistent with my health goals. I count points. I work out. I have my apps.”

I look at him as I tug at the belt of my robe.

“At least once a day, I look at myself completely naked.”

Jared’s hooded gaze scours my body, covered nearly head to toe in white terry cloth.

“Seeing you naked every day doesn’t sound like much of a hardship,” he says, voice braided with lust. “Sounds like my fantasy, actually.”

I pause, my fingers caressing the soft fabric, my eyes caressing his face.

“The first time we made love,” I say, resuming the work of my fingers at my waist. “I made you turn the lights off.”

Jared’s glance latches onto my waist, following the simple movements of my fingers.

“This time I want you to see me.” I force the words past the anxious knot in my throat. “Not because I’m perfect—I’m still not—but because I trust you to want me just as I am.”

Jared’s hand covers mine at the belt of the robe. The other hand reaches up to cup my cheek, and his eyes lock with mine.

“I do, Ban,” he says roughly, tenderly. “I’ve seen you. I know you’ve lost weight, but I’m more impressed with how you’ve grown than by what you’ve lost. You’re more confident, more compassionate, more clever, more driven. You’re more of all the things that drew me to you in the first place.”

I blink back tears at the rightness of that. It’s not that Zo didn’t see me clearly. I know he did, and that he loved me for who I was under my skin. But I tried to feel this for him, tried to want him the way I want Jared, and I never could. I don’t know when thinking of him while I’m with Jared and thinking of Jared when I’m with Zo won’t feel disloyal to them both. Right now it does, and I clear my mind of everything but the man standing in front of me.

Ten years ago, I demanded he kill the lights before we went any further. I wrapped layers of clothing around myself then to camouflage my flaws. To hide myself. Now I’m standing under bright, unforgiving lights in the bathroom, only a thin robe between Jared and my imperfections.

And I’m not concerned about the pounds I still need to lose.

I’m not wondering if anything will jiggle when he makes love to me.

I don’t care about the last of the dimples in my thighs or if my hips are too wide.

I’m captivated by the acceptance in his eyes.

Seduced by the care in every touch, even more because I know he doesn’t always care about people, can’t tolerate everyone. But he said he likes me more than any other girl. I never imagined I’d fall for someone like Jared, so opposite of me. We both play by certain rules and are both each other’s exception.

Whatever it is that binds us and has endured even through the hostility and deception compels me to do something I’ve never done with anyone else.

Eyes never leaving his, I completely loosen the belt of the robe. I shrug my left shoulder until one panel falls away, revealing my naked breast and glimpses of my waist and thigh. Jared inhales sharply though his nose and clenches a fist at his side. I shrug my right shoulder and the robe surrenders completely, falling to the ground in a white heap of clouds at my feet.

The tiny network of stretch marks at my waist and thighs, etched in my skin from the weight I’ve gained and lost . . . he sees those.

The discrepancy between my breasts—one slightly larger than the other—he sees that, I’m sure.

The stomach that never seems quite flat enough and pokes out if I even look at bread . . . he must see that. My eyes zero in on it every morning.

I’m sure he sees all my imperfections. I want him to see them and to want me anyway.

And he does.

“Can I touch you now?” His voice is scraped raw with hunger for me. The girl with the pencil in freshman orientation. The one he didn’t see or even recall. That girl stands here showing him everything, trusts him with everything.

And feels completely seen.

I nod jerkily, breasts rising and falling with my choppy breaths.

His hands . . . God, his hands are so reverent when he strokes the curve of my jaw and then traces my face. He wanders down my neck, caressing the skin slowly like he’s savoring every inch. He’s watching the path his hands take, narrowing his eyes on my breasts cupped in his big hands. He bends and takes one nipple into the warmth of his mouth, stroking the other with his thumb.

I clutch the nearby counter, gripping it tightly and trying to stay on my feet while his mouth widens over my breast, sucking aggressively, and his other hand swipes down my side and palms my butt.

“This ass,” he breathes over the dampened tip of my breast and moves his hand between my legs, palming me and sliding three eager fingers inside me without delay. He runs his finger to my ass and strokes the sensitive aperture, surprising me, overtaking me with unexpected sensations as he freely explores my body.