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“Every scrap of clothing off now, Little Mouse.” She drew in a sharp intake of air as I fit my fingers to the hem of her long-sleeved shirt and lifted it, exposing her stomach. She grabbed the top, holding it in place, and twisted to look over her shoulder at me. “I’m fat.” I stopped and squinted at her. “What?” She shook her head. “I’m not like the other women you’ve been with. I’m fat.” I didn’t understand what she was getting at. “I’m not blind. I know what your body looks like.” “I have stomach rolls.” “So?” “Stretchmarks. Cellulite.” “Yeah? Great. If you’d let me take this off, then maybe I’d get to see that for myself.” I twisted my fingers in her shirt and drew it over her head. Put my lips to her shoulder, kissing her. She batted me away. “Hawk! Stop it! This is cruel!” I moved so I could see her face. She seriously meant it. I narrowed my eyes. I just wanted to see her in the light. See every inch of her body when I made her see stars. She covered herself with her arms. “At least turn the lights off. Please.” I stared at her. “No.” Her bottom lip trembled. “Why?” I could see the hate she had for herself. The hate that her husband had drilled into her with his actions, if not his words. Had he ever wanted to see every inch of the woman he’d married, or was being with her just a way of producing some heir to his messed-up throne? In an instant, I saw it all in her eyes. Her expression told me I was spot on. That she’d never had a man worship her the way I'd been craving to do. Excerpt from Wife Number One by Elle Thorpe. Available in ebook, audio, and paperback. https://www.amazon.com/dp/B0CJXMJGPB/