Paint Me Beautiful

hardwood floors like a ghost, travel past the seating area that in no way screams bachelor. The colors are tasteful, the fabric choices are cohesive, and there's even a fresh vase of flowers, pink peonies this time.
    “ I love it,” I say and then I collapse.
    I'm not out for long, drifting in and out as Emmett rushes towards me and leans over, pulling me into his arms and shaking me gently, just enough to rouse me but not enough to jar me.
    “ Claire,” he whispers and his voice sounds frantic and fearful. I wonder if he's thinking that he might have bitten off more than he could chew. “Hey, hey, Claire, wake up for me, baby.” I groan and try to turn away from him, try to let my eyelashes flutter closed, but he won't let me.
    Emmett forces me into a sitting position and then slides his hand under my knees, lifting me up as easily as if I were a doll and not some fat, disgusting whale. He then carries me into a dark bedroom and lays me gently on top of crumpled burgundy sheets, tugging up a comforter with a silver and black geometric pattern.
    “ I'll be right back,” he whispers and then disappears for what seems like a split second but is actually probably a few minutes. “Here.” A glass appears in my vision, but I push it away. I can smell whatever it is, and if I can smell it, it isn't water.
    “ I just need water,” I tell Emmett with a tongue that feels suddenly thick and groggy. What the hell is wrong with me? Did I catch the flu? I hope so. Then I'll lose weight fast.
    “ Claire, this is just vitamin water. It doesn't have any calories in it, I promise.”
    The glass approaches my lips again and presses cold to my mouth, spilling sweet liquid down my throat. Without realizing what is happening, my hands come up and grab the glass, squeeze it tight as my muscles convulse greedily, desperate to get something, anything in my esurient belly. When I pull the cup away, it's empty.
    I look at Emmett whose face is as pale as mine now, whose slender eyes are now open fat and wide, afraid. Shame crashes over me hard and fast, taking me to places I don't want to go. I turn away and try to stand up, pausing only because Emmett forces me to, grabbing my arm and spinning me around to face him.
    “ Claire,” he says, but he doesn't judge; he just says it.
    “ I think I'm just anemic,” I tell him which is not a lie because at the time, I really believe that that's all that's wrong. “I just need some iron pills and some vitamins, that's it. No big deal.” Emmett does not let me go. He cups the back of my head and presses me into him. I resist at first, certain that he's probably imagining how heavy I am, how much pressure I'm putting on his lap. “I just need to go to the store and get some.”
    “ I'll get you some later,” he promises and then he pulls back and kisses me, teases me with that hot, perfect mouth, makes me squirm against him, beg for it with my body. At first, he tries to keep it at just that, just a little kiss, but there is no little between Emmett and I. As soon as I reach down and touch him there, sparks fly and I find myself on my back on the bed with my wet shirt sliding up over my head, disappearing into the mess of clothes that litter the floor.
    My hands tear at his wet jeans, but they're too shaky to undo the buttons. I pray that Emmett doesn't notice because I'm afraid he'll stop, so I switch my touch to his neck and his shoulders, running my fingertips along the moist cotton of his shirt. He takes care of it for me, freeing himself from his pants and reaching under my skirt, pushing aside the ugly panties I wore to help suck in my stomach. He pauses for just a split second to lean over to his bedside table and grab a condom, slipping it on in an instant and sliding into me with one, quick motion.
    I drop my hands to his sheets and dig my fingers into the fabric, clinging on for dear life as Emmett pulls himself away from my greedy mouth, finds my neck and bites gently, tasting my flesh with his teeth, sliding his tongue down the pulse in my neck. I was afraid he was going to treat me like I was fragile, act like I was a broken thing that needed fixing, but instead, he's the opposite. Emmett fucks with a hard, desperate fury that actually frightens me. There's fear in his actions, his face, his moans. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that he's worried about me. Why? Why? Why is he worried? And if he is, why is he not taking the same route as my parents? Why is he