Total pages in book: 141
Estimated words: 136559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 136559 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 683(@200wpm)___ 546(@250wpm)___ 455(@300wpm)
I blink off the thought as I pull away so I can set up the camera again on the tripod.
“So, now you want me to stalk over to you?” he asks, reminding me of the pics I want to get.
The reason we’re doing this.
To test my skills. To try new things. To capture a man in motion, a man who can’t stand to be away from his woman. It’s an action shot of sorts, and there should be just enough room to capture him moving toward me.
Well, here goes. “I do, but it’ll be a little different this time,” I say.
“How?”
Am I doing this? Yes. I’m doing it. I look at those dark brown eyes, so soulful, so heated. “Sit down and find out.”
I’m going off script. I take a breath, check the settings once more on the back of the camera, then move to the chair a few feet from him. Close enough that he could stretch out an arm and touch me.
The remote in my hand feels like a timer, so I reach for the hem of my shirt, then stop thinking and just act. In one swift move, the shirt is gone, leaving me in my jeans and black lace bra. The cool air hits my skin, but it’s nothing compared to the heat in his eyes.
This time, I do hear him clearly—a quiet sound, almost imperceptible, but unmistakable because it can only be one thing.
A low, reverent holy shit.
And now, I don’t feel nerves washing over me. It’s power. I’m the photographer, I’m the subject, and I’m the object of his desire.
I smile, feeling like a queen—exactly how I wanted my client to feel. How Miles is making me feel.
He stands, closing the short distance between us with each trigger of the remote and click, click, click of the camera.
We didn’t script what will come next. But he’s moving next to me now, straddling the chair, sinking down behind me, his hands sliding down my arms.
“Like this?” he murmurs.
I shudder, closing my eyes, giving in as the camera clicks. “Just like that.”
6
THE NEXT BEST THING
Miles
I run a hand down her arm, letting my fingers glide across her skin before setting my palm on top of hers—the hand not holding the remote. Her breath hitches—it’s the most gorgeous sound I’ve ever heard.
I slow my movements, running my left hand over hers, curling our fingers together, drawing out the moment. As she clasps my hand in return, she sighs softly, leaning her head back. Her thick, silky hair brushes against my nose. I don’t even bother pretending not to inhale it. I make a show of it, running my nose along the soft, chestnut waves.
“You smell like vanilla and brown sugar,” I murmur as I drift closer to her earlobe so I can kiss her there.
She tenses though, and I’m not sure what to make of that reaction. Maybe I’ve gone too far. Too fast. But then she turns her head back to glance at me, pulling her body away slightly. Like there’s a play I didn’t expect on the ice, I try to read her body language. But it’s hard because there’s a quirk in her lips now, like she’s amused. “And I bet you like that—vanilla and brown sugar.”
Ah, that’s better. Her sass. I fucking love her confidence. I tighten my fingers around hers. “What gave it away?”
“I don’t know. It’s hard to say,” she teases, still twisting to look at me, even as she wriggles her ass against my hard-on. And I do know how to read that.
“Some things are more obvious than others.”
“This one seems fairly obvious,” she replies, her voice a little dreamy, a little lost in the moment. But then she takes a deep breath, like she’s snapping herself out of it.
Hmm.
Maybe I’ve been missing her cues all along? “Do you want me to stop?”
She’s quiet for a beat before she says, “No.”
I pause in case she says more, but she doesn’t. I take her word at face value as I let go of her hands and slide mine up her arms, tracing the flowers inked into her skin. I watch the fine hairs rise under my touch while listening to her quiet gasps and the soft murmur of her breath. She melts into me, and I feel her relax, little by little. I want to kiss her right now. But I hold myself back, resisting the urge. I want to make her wait for it, but I also want to be dead sure she wants this.
I lift a hand to sweep her hair to the side so I can kiss the back of her neck, but the second my fingers make contact, she jerks away. “I need to…check the settings,” she says.
Oh. Okay. I’m a little lost. “Sure. Go ahead,” I say since I’m not really sure what she wants anymore.