by Julie Kenner
She did, and while she did, he came over and poured another glass of Frangelico, heating it over the little container of Sterno.
“Wow,” she whispered.
“Read it out loud,” he said. When she lifted an eyebrow, he added, “I worked hard for that. I deserve to at least get a little vicarious toe tingle going.”
Those butterflies started twisting in her stomach again. This was not the kind of stuff she wanted to read aloud to him. Not today, when he’d been filling her thoughts so completely. On any other day she would have happily read it to him—hell, they would have discussed it in detail and applied it to their own sex lives. So if she wanted to be the Ella he knew, she had to suck it up. Which was, she thought, a particularly poor choice of words.
“He watched me,” she read, leaning close to the candle so she could make out the words. She realized that her throat was so tight that her words were barely a whisper, so she cleared her throat and tried again.
“He watched me undress, and though I’d come with the purest of intentions, my body tingled in anticipation. I felt his eyes on me, cool and professional, judging the way the light bounced off my skin, the way the shadows caressed my curves. I reached back and unzipped my dress. The cool air of his studio whispered over my back. I closed my eyes and pretended his hand was touching me there, just above my ass.”
Ella swallowed, realizing that her back was tingling, primed for a lover’s touch. She closed her eyes, drew in a breath and started reading again, focusing on the words of the page so that Shane wouldn’t focus on her.
“I reached up, crossing my arms over my breasts to reach the thin straps of the dress. There was no need, I could have easily shrugged the thin material off. But I needed the contact. I was desperate for it. And I used the motion to caress my own breasts, to feel my nipples harden under the flesh of my arms, as the dress fell to the ground.
“He stood there, behind me still, and though I didn’t turn around, I knew that he was watching me and that his professional eye now held a hint of heat. I wore nothing except my panties and the black stiletto pumps. I placed my hands over my breasts, a gesture that I hoped he would perceive as modesty. But there was nothing modest about it, and I stifled a groan of pleasure as I pinched and pulled my nipples between my thumb and forefinger, my back still to him.”
“What do you think?” Shane asked, taking advantage of Ella’s brief pause to catch her breath. His voice was low, or she imagined that it was. In the state she was in, with her own nipples hard and her sex throbbing, she wasn’t sure that she was in any position to analyze anyone’s vocal tones.
“Um,” she finally managed after a false start. “Well, the parallel is amazing. I…I’m sure I can use it in the paper. I’ll just, um, set it aside for now and work on it—”
“Don’t do that.” He sat down next to her and squeezed her knee—something he did all the time, but on most days the contact didn’t bring her close to orgasm. She stifled a gasp, realizing she hadn’t stifled it as well as she’d thought when he looked at her quizzically. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Not a thing.”
“Finish it.” He nodded back toward the paper, his face relaxed, his eyes bright. “I don’t know about you, but I’m getting a kick out of it.”
“A kick. Right. Sure.” She drew a deep breath, trying to stave off frustration. Why shouldn’t he be getting a kick? They’d watched porn together, laughing at the really raunchy stuff. And years ago they’d spent an amusing month or so trying to outdo each other in writing the kinkiest letter to Penthouse Forum. They’d never planned to actually send anything in, of course, but they’d cracked each other up. So why wouldn’t he want her to keep reading? This was just Shane and Ella having fun. That’s all. And no matter how hot she was, no matter how wet she was, no matter how desperately she wanted to slip her hand between her thighs and relieve her need, she would focus on staying sane.
“Right. Finish reading. No problem.” She took a sip of her drink and started where she’d left off.
“‘Take off your panties,’ he said. ‘But leave on the shoes. I’ll want you on the chaise by the window, where the light is good.’ I nodded and did what I was told. I slipped my hand down to my panties to pull them off, but I didn’t do just that. I slipped a finger inside, down into my slick heat and over my clit. I didn’t mean to come, but I couldn’t help it, and I felt myself gasping, my body trembling from the touch. I knew he saw. I knew he knew. And yet he said nothing.
“Emboldened, I stroked myself one more time, just to get my blood up, and then I shimmied out of my panties. I left them on the floor, then looked over my shoulder to him. He was standing by the camera, a light meter in his hand. His face was bland, professional. But there was desire in his eyes. And I knew. He wanted me. Knowing that, I almost came again.”
“I, um, really think that’s enough reading aloud,” Ella said. She finished off the fresh glass of Frangelico in one gulp, coughing and blinking a little as the strong scent filled her nose and wafted past her eyes. “I’ve been drinking so much, the words are swimming on the page.” It was a good excuse. She hoped he bought it. The truth was, she’d skimmed ahead. The model, her legs spread for him on the chaise. The stream of sunlight dancing on her clit. His camera focused on her. The woman making love to the camera. And then making love to him.
“All right,” Shane agreed. “But you like it? For your paper, I mean.”
“Oh. Yes. Absolutely. Thank you.”
“Anytime.” He reached over, casually topped off her glass.
“Oh, Shane. I don’t know. I really shouldn’t keep drinking.”
“Why not?” He passed the glass to her. “So long as we’re in a forced blackout, we might as well take advantage of it. What better way to pass the time than to drink and eat?” He paused a second, his eyes never leaving hers, before continuing on. “Of course, I can think of one better way. I guess it’s the first time I’ve regretted us being best friends.”
“Excuse me?”
“I just meant under the circumstances. We have a sultry, hot room, pitch-black except for the glow of candles. Fine food. Erotica. A pretty decadent setup, don’t you think?”
Alarm bells sang in her head. “Yes. Yes, very. But we are friends. And I have a boyfriend. And…” She trailed off, certain the liquor was making her head mushy because she couldn’t seem to find another protest. “I can’t think about this. My head is starting to throb.”
“Turn around.”
When she just sat there, he made a circle motion with his fingers.
“Around,” he said again.
Warily she complied, and he pressed his fingertips over her temples. She sighed, unable to fight the image of those hands stroking her cheeks, her neck, her breasts. She knew she should pull away, get out from under that fantasy, but his fingers were working magic on her head, and it was her fantasy. A secret. He didn’t know and he didn’t have to find out.
She could enjoy his touch, enjoy this fantasy, and be secure in the knowledge that in just two days Shane would be fifteen hundred miles away, his magic fingers no longer any threat.
“Did you ever tell Tony?” he asked.
“What?” Her voice squeaked and she tried again. “Tell him what?”
“About wanting your picture taken. You know, like that.”
Her cheeks burned, and for the first time she decided that maybe having a guy friend to share little sexual fantasies with wasn’t such a great idea after all.
“I…” She trailed off, remembering the shocked look on Tony’s face when she’d suggested he take a few pictures of her. They’d just made love and she’d felt warm and sensuous, and the thought that Tony could capture that through the lens of the camera…well, it had made her hot all over again. Tony, however, had been less than enthusiastic. “We decided that maybe taking pictures wasn’t the best idea.”
He didn’t respond. She couldn’t see his face, and it took every ounce of self-control not to
turn around and look in his eyes. Ella was certain he was disapproving, being critical of Tony, when Tony had simply been true to himself and his own comfort level. Nothing wrong with that, right?
“Have you ever thought of doing it without Tony?”
“Doing it? Doing what?”
“The pictures, El. I could take them for you.”
His hands were no longer on her temples. They’d moved down, now stroking her bare shoulders. He leaned closer from behind, his lips close to her ear and his breath tickling her lobe and driving her crazy.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Not at all. Why should you be denied a fantasy just because your boyfriend doesn’t want to share it with you? And we’ll do it on the digital camera. If you want to print one out later, you can. Or else you can just keep the files on the computer. Like a little secret only for you.”
And for Shane, she thought. And even though she knew that wasn’t where he was coming from, in her current mind-set she had to admit that the idea of Shane looking at her from behind the camera was appealing. Erotic, even. He wouldn’t be touching her, so it wasn’t like cheating. But he’d be watching her, so it would be a little like playing out her fantasy. And so help her, even if that was a really bad idea, she wanted it. If for no other reason than to get it out of her system.
“Come on, El,” he whispered. “Let me do this for you. It’s not like I’ve never seen you naked…”
He had, of course, and that one little fact turned the tide for her. She wouldn’t be doing anything with Shane they’d never done before. Well, except documenting it with a camera. He had seen her naked. He was her best friend. She’d never been shy around him. And if she said no—if she acted shy now—wouldn’t he know something was up?
She latched on to the rationalization, moving it to the forefront of her mind and stomping down hard on the truth—that she wanted this more than she ever would have imagined. That she needed it, even. Needed Shane to see her like that. Sensuous. Womanly. Naked.
“All right,” she whispered. She swallowed, gathering her courage before it faded away. “Yeah. We can do that.”
SHANE’S HEART SKIPPED A beat and he tried to keep his hands steady, afraid she’d feel if he trembled with lust. Afraid that if she picked up on the slightest hint of desire from him, she’d close herself off again.
Carefully he rubbed her shoulders. “Good,” he said, managing to keep his voice steady. “You have a camera, right?” If she didn’t, his fantasy ended right then and there.
“Yeah. In the armoire. Above the TV.”
He smiled. How perfect was that. “Great.”
“I—I mean, you… You don’t think this is weird, do you? Wanting to—”
He cut her off with a firm “Shhh,” then pressed his lips to the top of her head. “There’s nothing wrong with knowing your own mind, your own fantasies.”
She nodded, and he wondered whether it was him or Tony filling her brain. He wanted her thinking of them both, realizing that with Shane she could share, could be herself, but with Tony she had to stifle her desires. But he couldn’t point that out to her. He could only lead her there.
He knew he should take his hands off her, should get up and find the camera. He wanted to see her through the lens, wanted it so badly he was already hard. But at the same time he didn’t want to break the connection and he had to fight the urge to slide his hands down to cup her breasts. He wanted to stroke and squeeze them, to make her nipples peak and her heart beat faster. He wanted to slide a hand farther down, ease his fingers under the waistband of her pants, then slowly and methodically slip his hand inside and under the soft satin of her panties until his fingers found the damp curls. He wanted to slide his fingers over her sex, then crook his middle finger down, curling it just enough to find her slit and press home inside her. He wanted to hear her moan, wanted to feel the velvety wall of her body close around him.
He wanted all that, but he didn’t take any of it. Instead he just squeezed, then pulled his hand away. He put a pillow in his lap and gave her hand a gentle shove. “Put on a silk robe,” he said. “You can start in that and we’ll go from there.”
She nodded, turned to face him for the first time. Even in the dim candlelight he could see the blush on her cheeks. He reached out a finger and, with a grin, brushed the tip of her nose. “I took photography my sophomore year, remember? I’m practically a professional.”
“Right.” The blush stayed, but a wide smile crossed her face. “I’ll just go get ready for my shoot.”
While she grabbed a robe and headed into the bathroom, he checked the camera. Fully charged. And like most digital cameras, there was a screen on the back so that he could show her the pictures afterward. Good.
He wanted her to have this experience, then he wanted her to be able to relive it afterward. Whatever it took for her to realize—to really understand—what she could have with him that she didn’t have with Tony.
“I feel a little bit like Kate Winslet in Titanic,” she said, reappearing in front of him in a thin silk robe that hugged every curve. She looked good enough to eat, and the fact that he couldn’t take a little nibble frustrated him so much that he had to turn away, ostensibly to fiddle with the camera. “You know,” she continued, “that scene where Leo paints her in the nude. I think she paid him a dime for his services.”
She sauntered over to him, close enough that he caught a scent of her perfume. She hadn’t been wearing it earlier, and the realization that she’d put it on for this little adventure—for him—just about undid him.
“How much should I pay you?” she asked, her voice teasing but edged with sensuality.
“Don’t worry,” he said, matching her tone. “I’ll be sure to send you a bill.”
She licked her lips nervously, then looked away, and he had to wonder if maybe he’d crossed the line, stepping too far into her fantasy. He was about to say something stupid and brash, just to remind her that he was just the best-friend-slash-photographer, but she pulled herself together and smiled at him, the edge of daring returning to her eyes.
“So where do you want me?”
That was a loaded question, but he managed to come up with the appropriate answer. “Sofa, I think. Unless you want to pull out the bed.”
She shook her head. “Let’s just start here. We’ll see how it goes.”
“Okay. In that case—” He held up a hand, suddenly tuning in to the sound outside. “Wait. It’s raining.” He could hear the clatter of the rain on the fire escape, the wind sometimes catching the rain and sending it to scatter on the window. “Bring me a few candles.”
She did, not asking what he wanted them for, and he had to suppose she knew. It was no secret that Ella loved the rain. In fact, she thought it was erotic, arousing and totally sexy. She had for years, and whenever she’d had a boyfriend who’d shared her passion for staying in bed during the rain, she’d invariably told Shane she was half in love.
They put the candles on the window ledge and then Shane backed off, nodding in approval at the way the dancing flames lit the raindrops, making the entire window sparkle. “There,” he said.
“Should I just…” Her teeth played against her lower lip and her fingers toyed with the sash of the robe. “I mean, should I just drop it?”
“Take it off slowly,” he said. He lifted the camera, zoomed in until the image was well framed. “Take it off for the camera.”
PART OF HER WANTED TO TIE the sash tight and race across the apartment to the bathroom. But that part of her had been soundly pounded into submission by the rest of her. By an Ella that wanted this experience, wanted to stand naked in front of a camera and know that her image, her body, was being captured forever.
And the fact that it was Shane behind the camera…well, she wanted to tell herself that it didn’t matter. That he was simply a person like any other. Someone who could operate the camera. But that was a lie. She was glad it was Shane. She liked the idea of him seeing he
r, of him framing the shot, considering the lighting. Letting the lens caress her body. Capturing her, naked, for posterity.
She supposed she should be upset or sad or troubled that it wasn’t Tony, but she wasn’t. Tony didn’t understand and he certainly wouldn’t approve. That was okay. There was no rule that said you had to mesh with your fiancé on every little detail. And in this situation…where she wanted to lose herself in the experience…well, yeah, she was glad it was Shane.
“Beautiful,” he whispered, and she realized that she’d leaned against the side of the window, the candlelit rain behind her, the robe falling off her shoulder so that one breast was exposed. Exposed for him.
A low pressure started between her legs, a telltale dampness that she wanted to stroke. And the more she thought about how much she didn’t want Shane to realize, the wetter she got.
Her breathing was shallow, and she closed her eyes, lost only to the sound of the rain and the clicking of the camera. He’d turned off the flash, and she knew that she was illuminated only by the many candle flames. A dim reddish-orange, the color of heat. Of lust.
Her exposed nipple was hard, the areola puckered tight around it. She imagined Shane dropping the camera and coming to her, taking her breast in his mouth. Slipping his hand between her thighs.
She made a little gasping noise, then let the robe fall to her waist, trying to camouflage the sound. He made a noise of approval, and she heard the constant whir of the camera. She opened her eyes, just barely, and saw him through the shadow of her lashes. He was moving a few feet in front of her, shifting and adjusting for the best angle, the best light.
She wanted him inside her.
The thought slammed into her head with a force that startled her. She tried to shove it away, but the more she tried, the more the image of her and Shane, lost to their passion for each other, filled her mind.
It’s just the situation, El. That’s all. Don’t go crazy. Don’t do anything stupid.
