by Malone, Nana
“You shouldn’t let that asshole stop you from living your life. Not all guys are assholes. Not all guys lie to you.”
“Yeah. This is the part where I should say ‘I know,’ but I don’t actually believe you.”
His lips tipped into a smirk. “That’s okay. You’ll believe me one day.”
His voice dropped an octave. It was low, rumbly, and made me want to cuddle up to his side. But I didn’t do that. Instead, I snapped another shot. He checked my every movement across the section of his apartment that we’d set up for the studio shoot.
The tension swirled around us as if trying to concentrate. Somehow this felt intimate. I felt vulnerable. Naked. “You’re watching me. It’s making me nervous.”
“You shouldn’t be. I’m sure you’re doing a great job.” The music changed again to some upbeat song by the latest pop princess, but it was low … sexual in a way.
“You make a really good model. I’m sure dozens of artists have volunteered to paint you before.”
He shook his head. “Not that I can recall. Why, are you offering?”
I grinned. “I usually do nudes.” Why did I say that? It wasn’t true. Because you’re hoping he’ll volunteer as tribute.
He shrugged then reached behind his back and pulled his shirt up, tugged it free, and tossed it aside. “How is this for nude?”
Fuck. Me. I stared for a moment, mouth open and looking like an idiot. Then, well, I snapped a picture. Okay fine, I snapped several. “Uh, that’s a start.”
He ran a hand through his hair and tousled it, so I snapped several of that. These were romance-cover gold. Getting into it, he started posing for me, making silly faces. I got closer to him, snapping more close-ups of his face. That incredible face.
Then suddenly he went deadly serious again, the intensity in his eyes going harder somehow, sharper. Like a razor. “You look nervous. I thought you said you were used to nudes.”
I swallowed around the lump in my throat. “Yeah, at school whenever we had a model, they were always nude. I got used to it.”
He narrowed his gaze. “Are you sure about that?”
Shit. He could tell. “Yeah, I am. It’s just a human form. Male. Female. No big deal.”
His lopsided grin flashed, and my stomach flipped. Stupid traitorous body … and damn him for being so damn good-looking. I tried to keep the lens centered on his face, but I had to get several of his abs, for you know … research.
But when his hand rubbed over his stomach and then slid to the button on his jeans, I gasped, “What are you doing?”
“Well, you said you were used to doing nudes. Will that make you more comfortable as a photographer?”
I swallowed again, unable to answer, wanting to know what he was doing. How far he would go. And how far would I go?
The button popped, and I swallowed the sawdust in my mouth. I snapped a picture of his hands.
Well yeah, and his abs. So sue me. He popped a button, giving me a hint of the forbidden thing I couldn’t have. I kept snapping away. We were locked in this odd, intimate game of chicken. I swung the lens up to capture his face. His gaze was slightly hooded. His lips parted … Turned on. I stepped back a step to capture all of him. His jeans loose, his feet bare. Sitting on the stool, leaning back slightly and giving me the sex face, because that’s what it was—God’s honest truth—the sex face. And I was a total goner.
“You’re not taking pictures, Len.” His voice was barely above a whisper.
“Oh, sorry.” I snapped several in succession. Full body shots, face shots, torso shots. There were several torso shots. I wanted to fully capture what was happening.
He unbuttoned another button, taunting me, tantalizing me. Then he reached into his jeans, and my gaze snapped to meet his. I wanted to say something. Intervene in some way … help maybe … ask him what he was doing. But I couldn’t. We were locked in a game that I couldn’t break free from. Now I wanted more. I wanted to know just how far he would go.
Would he go nude? Or would he stay in this half-undressed state, teasing me, tempting me to do the thing that I shouldn’t do?
I snapped more photos, but this time I was close. I was looking down on him with the camera, angling so I could see his perfectly sculpted abs as they flexed. His hand was inside his jeans. From the bulge, I knew he was touching himself. And then I snapped my gaze up to his face.
Sebastian licked his lip, and I captured the moment that tongue met flesh.
Heat flooded my body, and I pressed my thighs together to abate the ache. At that point, I was just snapping photos, completely in the zone, wanting to see what he might do next.
“Len … ”
“Sebastian.” My voice was so breathy I could barely get it past my lips.
“Do you want to come closer?”
“I—I think maybe I’m close enough?”
His teeth grazed his bottom lip. “Are you sure about that? I have another question for you.”
I snapped several more images, ranging from face shots to shoulders, to torso. Yeah, I also went back to the hand-around-his-dick thing because … Wow. “Yeah? Go ahead.”
“Why didn’t you tell me about your boyfriend ‘til now?”
Oh shit. “I—I’m not sure. I didn’t think it mattered. It sort of feels like we’re supposed to be friends.” Lies, all lies.
He stood, his big body crowding me. “Yeah, friends … ”
I swallowed hard. I couldn’t bloody think with him so close. His scent assaulted me, sandalwood and something that was pure Sebastian wrapped around me, making me weak. Making me tingle as I inhaled his scent. Heat throbbed between my thighs, even as my knees went weak. “Sebastian, wh—what are you doing?”
“Proving to you that we’re not friends. Will you let me?”
He was asking my permission. I knew what I wanted to say. I understood what was at stake. But then he raised his hand and traced his knuckles over my cheek, and a whimper escaped.
His voice went softer, so low when he spoke that his words were more like a rumble than anything intelligible. “Is that you telling me to stop?”
Seriously, there were supposed to be words. There were. But somehow I couldn’t manage them, so like an idiot I shook my head.
His hand slid into my curls as he gently angled my head. When he leaned down, his lips a whisper from mine, he whispered, “This is all I’ve been thinking about.”
With a deep inhale, his lips crashed down to mine, and my world swam. His lips were soft but demanding. His tongue sure. His hands first gentle, then rough as he changed the angle. Our last kisses had been intense but not like this.
The first had been a surprise. The second had been an explosion. This one was a searing brand. One hand furled and unfurled in my hair. The other slid into the back pockets of my jeans, squeezing gently before aggressively tugging me close to his hard body.
Sebastian moaned low, then grunted before releasing my curls and picking me up. The next thing I knew I was on the side table and he was stepping between my legs.
The moment the hard, throbbing length of him pressed against my center, minuscule eruptions of pleasure exploded over my skin.
Holy hell.
His hands roamed, one tucking under my T-shirt, his fingers teasing my skin. The other, tucked into my jeans, grabbing my ass, kneading the flesh.
He wasn’t the only one who was getting handsy. I’d been so starved for physical contact for so long and hell, I really wanted to lick, er, touch his abs.
My hands shook as my fingers played over his abs. When he hissed, I pulled back quickly. “Sorry.”
“No, don’t stop. I need you to fucking touch me so bad. It feels too good.”
I blinked up at him. “You like it?” Tentatively, I trailed my fingertips my hands back over his golden skin.
He held perfectly still, groaning low as I let myself play. The man was seriously carved out of stone. With every pass of my fingertips, his muscles jumped. “Fuck yes. Can’t
you tell?”
I could feel the pulse of his dick insistently pressing against me. I closed my eyes and I could literally feel his heartbeat through the length of him. I rotated my hips trying to get closer to him to feel the delicious press of his dick against me.
“Fuck, Len—” He growled low, before crashing his lips back to mine. His tongue stroked over mine over and over again. I stroked back, desperate to have more of him. Desperate to have any part of him that I could. Desperate to have the part of him I had no business wanting: his heart.
I kept rocking my hips into him. It felt so good. So right. So wrong. Heat pulsed between my thighs, and tingles started in the base of my spine. I wanted him in a way I’d never wanted anyone before. His hands trailed sparks of electricity over my skin. His thumb traced under my breast and I shivered. Please, please, please. Higher. Just. A. Little. Bit. Higher.
He broke the kiss then lifted his gaze to meet mine. “After that, are you sure friends is the right word?”
Before I could tell him to shut up and kiss me, there was a sharp rapping at the door. It broke the spell. Sebastian cursed and removed his hand from my skin. “Just a second.”
I took that as my cue. I eased off the sideboard. “I’m going to go.”
“Len, no, don’t—” The sharp rap came again.
I headed for the balcony. “I’m gonna go this way.”
His gaze narrowed. “Are you running?”
I considered lying. “Yep. Sure am. Thank you for the lesson. I’ll catch you for our next session.”
I skipped onto the balcony, fully aware that I’d narrowly missed making a grievous error. I’d have my shit together by the next time I saw him. I’d lock down all the vajayjay feels.
Sure you will.
* * *
Sebastian …
I wasn’t even sure if we were still going to be on. I didn’t think she’d show. It turned out she was braver than I thought.
I left the bar after finishing up the inventory and setting up for the next shift. Sure enough, there she was outside, leaning against the light post with her camera. “Hey.”
I stopped short. “Hey yourself.”
“Is it still a good day to do this?” She shifted slightly on her feet.
“Yeah. I pretty much always have my camera. I just didn’t know if you’d still want to.”
I wasn’t sure what her response was going to be after what had happened with us. That shit in my apartment … I could still feel the imprint of her lips against mine. I could still fucking taste her. It had been two days with no goddamn sleep, thanks to her. I hadn’t really seen her much. I’d kind of been avoiding her. The push and pull dynamic between us was driving me fucking insane. I needed her. I wanted her more than I should. It terrified me. And here she was, acting normal.
“Not sure why I wouldn’t. We had a date, right?”
The D word hung between us, and she started walking in the wrong direction. Then, classic Len, she started talking a mile a minute. About her day in the studio, what she’d painted, pretty much anything but that kiss. The one where I’d slid my hand up her ribs, the one where I’d traced a thumb over her nipple and made her moan my name. Yeah, apparently she wasn’t talking about it, which was fine by me in a way but also annoying. But if she could be cool, then so could I. It was fine.
“Right. Yeah, let’s head down to Battery Park. The light is good. And it’s almost the golden hour. We’ll get some gorgeous sunset shots, if you want.”
She nodded. “That works.”
I stopped. It took her another thirty steps or so before she turned around. “What are you doing?”
I inclined my head in the other direction. “It’s that way.”
“Right.” She trotted up to meet me. “I knew that.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. She had a way of making everything fine. Normal. Easy. That’s because you like her. Or maybe it was because she made my body hum and feel good. I felt happy when I was with her, which was concerning because I couldn’t have her. But I wasn’t going to think about that today. No, today I was going to show her my Manhattan.
As we walked, we took pictures of West Village. Then we hopped a train down to Wall Street and took photos on the subway and of the buskers along the way. I was desperate to ask her about the kiss.
The itch was like this gnawing, persistent little tingle that I couldn’t quite get at. I wanted to just scratch it and get it out of the way to soothe the twitchiness, but I couldn’t. With every step we took and every subway car we sat in, she was right there, right next to me. I could smell her perfume and could practically touch her, but I think I knew better. It was safer if I didn’t touch her … Better for everyone. Who says?
Finally, as she was shooting a couple of kids climbing on the Wall Street Bull, I couldn’t help it anymore. “So are we gonna talk about it?”
She froze and then turned her head up and raised a hand over her brow to shield her eyes from the sun. “Talk about what?”
“So now we’re pretending it didn’t happen?”
“Well … ” She stood and turned to face me while shoving her hand inside her pocket. Her camera hung between her breasts and I tried not to let my gaze flicker down. “The thing is I ran out of there like my hair was on fire but you didn’t pursue me. So I guess we’re both a little emotionally unavailable. And well, to be honest, I just broke up with Robert, and it was one of those things that just happened. So I’m not gonna dwell on it, I guess.”
Fuck that answer. “So we’re going to pretend it didn’t happen.”
“I’m not sure what to do. I wish I knew. It all happened so fast. I don’t know. I just—” She looked down and shifted her feet again. “I like spending time with you, and I wanted another photography lesson. You know, one that was outside that didn’t involve any clothes being taken off. So here we are.”
I nodded slowly. “Yeah, that was … intense.”
“Yeah, I’ll say.”
I slid my gaze to her. “So what does that mean now?”
“I don’t know.”
“I don’t kiss my friends like that. I’ll just be really fucking clear. I want you. But there are a number of reasons why this is a really bad idea. So maybe we will just be friends.” It killed me to say that. I wanted her. I wanted her under me. I wanted her over me. I wanted to possess her. I wanted to share my secrets with her … But she wasn’t mine to keep.
She blinked up at me. “So, friend, what’s next on the agenda?”
“More pictures.”
* * *
Penny …
Friends.
The word clanked around in my head the rest of the afternoon. Considering the way he’d kissed me, it didn’t feel like friendship. But, like I’d already told myself, I couldn’t have him. So we were going to be friends because I still needed to stick to him like glue. As we headed down toward our building, my stomach started to grumble. He laughed and turned to me.
“Let me guess, time to feed the beast?”
“I can’t help that I get hungry. Besides, it is dinner time.”
Still laughing, we took a right toward the Thai place near our apartments. “Okay, let’s feed the beast. Come on.” In my peripheral vision, a motorcycle passed on the left. Its blaring engine warning us not to cross the street yet.
“I’m not sure I want Thai. Maybe that Italian place down the street?”
He shrugged. “I’m easy. I’m not the one who has an active tapeworm.”
“I just have a healthy appetite, that’s all.”
“No, it’s impressive. I’m a fan.”
I heard the grumbling whine of a sport motorcycle and I frowned. That was the same sound as two minutes ago. I turned and looked around, and the same bike was heading down the street. Cars were parked along the way. Not a single spot was available. There were a few pedestrians coming but not many. I squinted my eyes, but I knew from just a glance that it was indeed the same bike. I always made it a habit of staying
on Sebastian’s side toward the street no matter where we were walking.
The bike’s engine roared nearer to us. Then I heard the quick pop and a scatter of rocks pebbling, and time slowed. I don’t know what prompted it—instinct, fear, pure fight or flight, or if it was my training finally kicking in. Either way, I immediately turned and shoved Sebastian into the bags of garbage by the dumpster, deliberately tripping over my feet and landing on top of him. It wasn’t much for cover, but it would have to do in a pinch. More rocks scattered above us, and one of the steel railings holding the awning from the restaurant we were next to fell off of its mounting and clattered around us.
I didn’t look up until I heard the engine sound decrease. When I did, Sebastian stared at me. We’d narrowly avoided being hit by one of the metal poles holding up the awning and green fabric billowed over us.
I’d narrowly avoided getting him hurt. Hell, I’d narrowly avoided having him killed on my watch.
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his head. “What happened? It was like you tripped over your feet and sent us both flying.”
What the hell was I going to say? I couldn’t have these things that kept looking like accidents around him. “Oh my God, I’m really sorry. It’s just that motorcycle … it sort of looked like Robert’s, and I just didn’t want to see him right now. So I took the coward’s way out and hid.”
At first he stared at me, and I was pretty sure he wouldn’t believe that. Then he let his head fall back and a crack of laughter fell from his lips. “Oh my God, you must have the worst luck known to mankind. We narrowly avoided being killed by this stupid awning just because you were hiding from your boyfriend?”
I pushed myself to standing and then helped him up. Jesus, he was heavy. “It wasn’t my fault, okay? I just didn’t want to see him and then have to deal with the whole I-broke-up-with-him thing and that I was with you. I panicked.”
He laughed. “Are you sure you’re okay though? No bumps or scrapes?”
“I’m fine. Are you okay? You could have hit your head all because I panicked.”
