Yours Truly Read Online Free Page B

smelling powers, especially as a wannabe cook. I suppose that no discernible flavour is just the way with healthy food, though, isn't it? If it smelt and tasted amazing then you’d want to eat loads of it and you'd eat more than you normally would need to eat and then you'd get fat and that would defeat the point of it being healthy.
    “ Take a bite! Fill your boots! ” says Olly excitedly.
    I do an eager face, heap some of the fish broth and rice onto my fork and put it into my mouth.
    Nothing. It is air flavoured, oh and there's a bit too much black pepper. Any flavour that may have initially existed has been cooked away. “ Mmmm… lovely! ” I smile, giving my tummy an enthusiastic pat.
    “ Come on! ” Olly admonishes. “ You reckon you want to be a chef. You can do better than lovely. ”
    I nod and then pretend to be the blokes from Masterchef.
    “ Um. Soft... grainy rice. And um. Sweet, sweet fish. A fishy explosion! The whole thing is... delectable. A cuddle on a plate, if you will. ”
    “ And the best thing is that it’s so good for you! ” Olly contributes, proud of his prowess in the kitchen.
    Satisfied with my judgement he declares that I should ‘tuck in before it goes cold’ and heartily scoffs his own.
    I eat up as instructed and, trying hard to ignore all thoughts of a big bloody filet mignon with some French beans and onion tempura, repeat to myself that it doesn’t taste that bad and at least I’ll look all svelte and radiant with good health on my wedding day.
     
     
    A couple of hours later Olly and I are tucked up under the covers of his low platform, Zen style Japanese bed. Before we go to bed Olly always insists we shower together so that we’re nice and clean before we make love. It does take the spontaneity away somewhat, but at least neither of us smells or anything, which would be infinitely worse. I used to try and encourage Olly to combine the shower and sex into one sensual, soapy activity, but he takes his showering seriously. So now we take turns to stand under the jet stream and wash thoroughly. It’s actually a rather nice bonding experience, though it can get a bit cold when it’s not your turn to stand under the hot water.
    In bed, Olly leans over me and unties my dressing gown so that I’m naked. I feel slightly self-conscious of my stomach, though he strokes it and doesn’t appear to notice that it’s perhaps not as tight as the bellies of the women he must see at the gym. He grins at me, his eyes shining before heading straight for my neck.
    “ You’re so damn cute, Natty, ” he groans, doing little kisses around my ears.
    “ Thanks. You too. ”
    “ I mean it. Your cute little nose, ” he kisses my nose. “ Your cute little freckly cheeks, ” he kisses my cheeks. “ Your cute little chubby wubby belly, ” he kisses my belly. “ You’re… almost perfect. ”
    Wait a second.
    Did he just say almost perfect? I startle for a second before mentally shrugging. Almost perfect is pretty good going, I’d say. At least he’s not lying. If he said I was totally perfect then he’d be lying.
    I place my hand on his bicep and give a little squeeze. Mmmm. He really is delicious. Any girl would be lucky to have him. So, so lucky.
    Our lips find each other and we kiss for a while, feeling every inch of each other’s bodies pressed up close. It’s lovely. Right before we get down to the rude stuff, Olly stops and gazes deep into my eyes.
    “ I really, really can’t wait until we’re married, sweetness. I love you so very, very much. ”
    I sigh with content, all thoughts of bad hair, shiny wedding dresses and diamante banished from my mind. Those things really don’t matter. I’m getting married to a gorgeous, kind, sexy man who thinks I’m almost perfect. That’s what matters.
    “ Me too. ” I grin, grabbing his bottom and pulling him into me…
     
     
    “ How was that, then? ” Olly says six minutes later, climbing off me and catching his breath.
    He