It’s so real, I can see it. Which is exactly how art always begins.
“How much time do we have?” The sun is rising higher and the traffic on the street has picked up.
Hendrix has to shift his arm around me to check. “A little more than an hour.”
I kiss along his sternum. My lips are swollen, but my mouth can’t stop wanting him.
“Should we go again?”
He’s noble for offering. We’ve already had three rounds. I’ve lost track of how many times I’ve come. My pussy is deliciously raw, and yet, I could go again. This wanting is a very deep well. It replenishes way before it’s at risk of running dry.
But even though I’m as randy as a schoolboy, there is more between us than sex. And I’m very aware that my lover’s attention is currently split.
“I think I’m too exhausted,” I say, which is also true. I’m already working out how I’m going to trick Fred into letting us take an afternoon nap. “Besides, I feel your eyes wandering.”
Hendrix plays dumb. “My eyes aren’t wandering. What are you talking about?”
I twist my neck to motion to the camera sitting on the dresser. “You can’t tell me you aren’t thinking about it.”
“Uh…” He lets out a nervous laugh before kissing me on the head. “I wouldn’t dream of taking your picture without your permission.”
I blush remembering my reaction in class. Was that really only yesterday? “That was...that was silly. It was about something else and—”
“I know what it was about,” he says. “And I sense everything has changed, but I wasn’t about to make any presumptions.”
I love this show of caution, this hint that he isn’t always as sure as I believe he is. It’s comforting to not be alone in the awkwardness of a new relationship.
I wouldn’t mind discussing that more, but this presses harder.
I prop my head up. “You see it don’t you, though? What you want to capture?” I’m not sure if I’m teacher or lover in this moment. I just know what it feels like to itch with vision.
And, also, I don’t want to be that woman I was yesterday. I don’t want to be someone who shoves her photo albums on a shelf. I want to be the woman he sees.
He’s hesitant. “Yeah, I do.”
“Will they be erotic?” I tease.
“Some of them. Definitely. Are you saying yes?”
Whoa, this yes feels harder than the one when Frank proposed. When I’d thought that marriage would make him less brutal. When I’d hoped that I could settle him down.
But Hendrix isn’t Frank. And I’m not who I was when I married him. Where’s the proof? Everywhere.
“I am saying yes,” I say, more boldly than I thought possible. Regret threatens instantly. “For your eyes only, right?”
“For our eyes only.”
“Then...yes. Show me your best shot.”
He jumps out of the bed as fast as Fred with the promise of crumpets. He throws on a pair of jeans sans underwear (hot) and strips the bed of everything but a single sheet that he allows me to use as a modest covering.
With determination in his eyes, he picks up his camera.
I’m a clumsy model, despite knowing what a photographer wants. I’m not used to being okay with the idea of being studied. But Hendrix is patient and knows how to settle the most frightened beasts. He takes his time, directing me this way and that, posing me in forms that feel strange. Pulling away the sheet entirely. Making me laugh. Over and over until my cheeks hurt from all the smiling.
When he’s satisfied, he sits on the bed next to me, and without even scrolling through the pictures he’s taken, he hands the camera to me.
“No self-editing first? That’s brave.” If he can be brave, I can be too. Rewards.
It’s hard to look objectively at first, to not see everything I hate about myself in the foreground of every image. My pointy chin. My too-thin lips. My scars. So many times my scars.
But something happens—maybe it’s Hendrix’s mouth pressed to my collarbone as he peers over my shoulder or maybe it’s the way he’s framed the light or maybe it’s the perfect composition of skin and sheet and smile. Whatever it is, I’m suddenly outside of myself looking in. I see what he meant to capture.
He’s good. These pictures are so so good. An A plus if I gave grades. Exceptional and extraordinary.
And, like a good photographer, he makes me see the art instead of the artist.
So while the work itself deserves to be credited, it’s not what strikes me most. What strikes me is the story he’s trying to tell. What strikes me is what he sees in the woman who’s me.
The woman who was always me. Always waiting for her chance in the aperture of just the right camera.
“Well?” he asks, revealing his nervousness. “Do you see it?”
I nod. I’m honest when I say the words I never thought I’d hear myself say. “I’m beautiful.”
Epilogue
Perspective: Technique used to depict volumes and spatial relationships on a flat surface, as in a painted scene that appears to extend into the distance. - MoMA Glossary of Art Terms
As time goes by, my albums fill. Hundreds of photographs, both real and in memory form. I have favorites, of course. Images from the day Amelia, our first daughter, is born and all the milestones that follow. A series featuring Lily who pops into the world a year later with the loudest cry I’ve ever heard on a newborn despite being almost an entire month early. The day the adoption papers are signed and Freddie officially adds Reid to his name. The look on my husband’s face when it happens, and I know no one has ever loved that boy like the two of us, together. The moment that Hendrix finally convinces me to put on his ring and make our family official.
But the albums aren’t just filled with the big events. They are stuffed full of so many smaller moments. Moments that become routine. Waking up with Hendrix at my side. Clutching a baby to my breast while chasing after a toddler. Pages upon pages of child scrawled art. Picking wildflowers in the country. Watching the sunset—from the Eiffel Tower, from the Serengeti, from the beach in Myanmar, from the balcony of the flat we buy together.
I take a lot more pictures for moments and not for craft. I can’t help it. I want anyone who walks into our home to see the happiness we share framed on every surface. It might inspire something in someone else who was missing it.
Becoming steady in my new self doesn’t happen overnight. It takes days added upon days. It takes tears and fights and lots of doubt, but it does happen. I can see the process as I flip through the snapshots in my head. Can see the blossoming of my character in stages. I learn eventually that the more collections of these photos I have, the less I revisit the darker images from my past. As though those albums are shoved to the back of the shelf, making way for newer, crisper memories. Making way for a life fully lived. A life that extends far ahead into a beautiful distance.
* * * *
Also from 1001 Dark Nights and Laurelin Paige, discover The Open Door, Dirty, Filthy Fix, and Falling Under You.
Author’s Note
Dear Reader,
Camilla’s story is one I’ve carried around with me for quite some time. I’ve known who she is and what her journey had to be, but when it came to actually writing it, I struggled with how much of what I knew about her was essential to this novella. After a lot of back and forth, I decided to trust in the character and followed where her voice led me. I was surprised by the way she wanted to tell her tale, by her noisy thoughts and the depth of her wounds. It isn’t an easy story, that’s for sure. It definitely was the story that I needed to write at this time. When the world feels fragile and broken and unsure, I needed to believe that fragile and broken and unsure is still beautiful. I found that reassurance in this writing, and I hope you found it in the reading.
Obviously there is more to Camilla’s complex history which is only hinted at here. The circumstances that led to her being in foster care and the abuse she suffered a
t her husband’s hands as well as the circumstances surrounding his death are important parts of her character but weren’t important in the telling of this particular moment in her life. Those parts of her life are further explored from her brother Edward’s point of view in the Slay series. If you haven’t read those books, I invite you to discover more about the Fasbender family starting with book one, Rivalry.
As always, thank you for reading.
Laurelin Paige
Discover more about Camilla Fasbender’s past in
Laurelin Paige’s dark and edgy Slay series.
"This book is mean and kinky, desperate and romantic...I was consumed." - KC Caron, Goodreads Reviewer
Edward Fasbender is a devil.
He’s my father’s biggest rival. He takes what he wants, and he bows to no one.
And now Edward Fasbender wants me.
I didn’t expect to want him back.
Having him is not in the cards, not when a union with him would destroy my father. But that doesn’t mean I can’t play with him a bit.
Except, I’ve never played against such a ruthless opponent. Edward is cold and vicious, and my blood has never run hotter. They say you should choose the devil you know, but I've always preferred long odds.
Even if it’ll get me slain.
“Oh my. I was hooked. You won’t be able to put this down!” - Aleatha Romig, NYT Bestselling Author
Rivalry is book one in New York Times, Wall Street Journal, and USA Today bestselling author, Laurelin Paige, dark and edgy Slay series.
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THE BISHOP by Skye Warren
A Tanglewood Novella
TAKEN WITH YOU by Carrie Ann Ryan
A Fractured Connections Novella
DRAGON LOST by Donna Grant
A Dark Kings Novella
SEXY LOVE by Carly Phillips
A Sexy Series Novella
PROVOKE by Rachel Van Dyken
A Seaside Pictures Novella
RAFE by Sawyer Bennett
An Arizona Vengeance Novella
THE NAUGHTY PRINCESS by Claire Contreras
A Sexy Royals Novella
THE GRAVEYARD SHIFT by Darynda Jones
A Charley Davidson Novella
CHARMED by Lexi Blake
A Masters and Mercenaries Novella
SACRIFICE OF DARKNESS by Alexandra Ivy
A Guardians of Eternity Novella
THE QUEEN by Jen Armentrout
A Wicked Novella
BEGIN AGAIN by Jennifer Probst
A Stay Novella
VIXEN by Rebecca Zanetti
A Dark Protectors/Rebels Novella
SLASH by Laurelin Paige
A Slay Series Novella
THE DEAD HEAT OF SUMMER by Heather Graham
A Krewe of Hunters Novella
WILD FIRE by Kristen Ashley
A Chaos Novella
MORE THAN PROTECT YOU by Shayla Black
A More Than Words Novella
LOVE SONG by Kylie Scott
A Stage Dive Novella
CHERISH ME by J. Kenner
A Stark Ever After Novella
SHINE WITH ME by Kristen Proby
A With Me in Seattle Novella
And new from Blue Box Press:
TEASE ME by J. Kenner
A Stark International Novel
FROM BLOOD AND ASH by Jennifer L. Armentrout
A Blood and Ash Novel
QUEEN MOVE by Kennedy Ryan
THE BUTTERFLY ROOM by Lucinda Riley
Discover More Laurelin Paige
The Open Door: A Found Duet Novella
Click here to purchase.
I knew JC was trouble the minute I laid eyes on him.
Breaking every rule in my club. I never forget how he made me feel that night. With all the women in that room, all those bodies on display, but his eyes were only on me.
Of course I married him. Now years have passed. Kids have been born. We’re still in love as always, and the sex is still fantastic...
And yet, it’s also not. Like many who’ve been married for a while, I long for the high intensity of those days of the past.
I’ve heard rumors for years about the Open Door. An ultra-exclusive voyeur’s paradise. A place to participate in—or watch—any kind of display you can imagine.
My husband’s eyes would still be on me. And maybe other eyes too. If that’s what we want.
So when an invitation to come play arrives, how could we turn it down?
* * * *
Dirty Filthy Fix: A Fixed Trilogy Novella
Click here to purchase.
I like sex. Kinky sex. The kinkier the better.
Every day, it’s all I think about as I serve coffee and hand out business agendas to men who have no idea I’m not the prim, proper girl they think I am.
With a day job as the secretary to one of New York’s most powerful men, Hudson Pierce, I have to keep my double life quiet. As long as I do, it’s not a problem.
Enter: Nathan Sinclair. Tall, dark and handsome doesn’t come close to describing how hot he is. And that’s with his clothes on. But after a dirty, filthy rendezvous, I accept that if we ever see each other again, he’ll walk right by my desk on his way to see my boss without recognizing me.
Only, that’s not what happens. Not the first time I see him after the party. Or the next time. Or the time after that. And as much as I try to stop it, my two worlds are crashing into each other, putting my job and my reputation at risk.
And all I can think about is Nathan Sinclair.
All I can think about is getting just one more dirty, filthy fix.
* * * *
Falling Under You: A Fixed Trilogy Novella
Click here to purchase.
Norma Anders has always prided herself on her intelligence and determination. She climbed out of poverty, put herself through school and is now a chief financial advisor at Pierce Industries. She’s certainly a woman who won’t be topped. Not in business anyway.
But she’s pretty sure she’d like to be topped in the bedroom.
Unfortunately most men see independence and ambition in a woman and they run. Even her dominant boss, Hudson Pierce, has turned down her advances, leaving her to fear that she will never find the lover she’s longing for.
Then the most unlikely candidate steps up. Boyd, her much-too-young and oh-so-hot assistant, surprises her one night with bold suggestions and an authoritative demeanor he’s never shown her in the office.
It’s a bad idea…such a deliciously bad idea…but when Boyd takes the reins and leads her to sensual bliss she’s never known, the headstrong Norma can’t help but fall under his command.
Man in Charge
Book One in the Man in Charge Duet
By Laurelin Paige
Now available.
Click here to purchase.
The Sebastians own this city.
Hell, they own the whole world.
All I want is one little piece of it, a corner that I can call my own.
So when my boss runs away to “find herself”, I seize the opportunity and dive head first into the Sebastian’s glamorous universe. It’s everything I’ve ever wanted—fast paced and high stakes—and, even though I don’t fit in, I’m excellent at faking it.
Until I come face to face with the man in charge, Scott Sebastian, the arrogant, playboy heir with the mind of a devil and the body of a god and a mouth I can’t stop thinking about.
He’s infuriating. He’s a distraction. He’s the man who wants me in his bed as much as I want to be there.
And, if I get too close, he’ll be the o
ne person who could expose me for what I really am—a fraud.
Enjoy an excerpt from Man in Charge,
I turned to find myself face-to-face with the stupid-hot player, and damn if he wasn’t even hotter close-up. “You,” I said, a bit scornfully because I was feeling contemptuous about the way he lit every nerve in my body on fire.
“You,” he said in turn. His tone seemed to both appreciate my scorn and know full well the source of it. “I was hoping we’d meet again.”
“I was hoping we wouldn’t.”
“Funny, I don’t believe you.”
He wasn’t an idiot, and the truth was glaringly evident. I couldn’t stop staring. My eyes were magnetically drawn to him. He was so gorgeous, it made my knees weak, and I was sitting down. His hair was lighter, I realized, than I’d figured in the dark. Brownish-red with golden hues, so perfectly messy in distribution that it had to be natural. His eyes were a killer blue. I’d always been a sucker for blue eyes. And for stupid-hot player types. It was like he’d been ordered up for me specifically, a Tessa Turani cocktail guaranteed to make me mind-numbingly drunk from just looking at him.
Slash: A Slay Series Novella Page 11
