Page 82 of Lost Love on 6th Street

I jerk away before she can touch me. “Don’t touch me unless you’re ready to get flipped on your belly and totally railed, Eleanor Hayes.”

She withdraws her hand, which is for the best since we’re enjoying a languorous early morning, but I can’t help feeling a touch disappointed. With a scan of the apartment, she sighs. “Bigger in the daylight.”

“You sound sad about that,” I say, twisting my fingers through her curls.

“I could have hacked it in a studio for less, maybe. Or got some roommates,” she says.

“Baby, if you’re worried about the money—”

Eleanor’s doing everything not to look me in the eye. “I’m not worried . . . yet.”

“Hey. I’ve got your back. I’m not letting you fall flat on your face. Not that you ever would.”

“Ha! You have too much confidence in me.”

I shake my head. “I don’t. And if you keep talking shit about my girlfriend, I’ll have to square up.”

Eleanor laughs. “I’d like to see that.”

I flip her onto her back, pinning her down by her wrists. “I can show you a few moves.”

She laughs more. “Let me go, let me go!”

“Yeah, I knew you’d give up easy,” I say as I roll off her. If I don’t get off, I’m going to take her again, and I don’t think the conversation is over.

We lay there for a while, Eleanor on her back, me on my side, smoothing my fingers across her bare chest. Making sure I’ve touched every part of her. How many men have touched every part of her? And how many have done it because of sheer wonder and awe?

“What about taking photos? Why can’t you do that?”

Eleanor snorts. “Like being an event photographer? I’ll pass.”

“You’d make good money.”

“Soulless.”

I kiss her shoulder and tuck my chin against her. “Concert photography. I know someone who could get you some gigs.”

A smile perks onto her lips. “Oh, really? Are you suggesting nepotism?”

“More than nepotism because there’s kissing involved.”

She grins. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no, but it would take me a while to get good at it.”

“I’ve got people I can introduce you to. They’ll show you the ropes.”

Eleanor’s smile fades. “I hate being a beginner. I’ve been a beginner so many times.”

“Just because you’re not a kid anymore, it doesn’t mean you aren’t going to have to begin again. And again. And again.”

“How do you have it all worked out? How are you so wise, huh?”

I hesitate. I just haven’t had a lot of bumps in the road. The biggest bump I’ve had recently was Eleanor, and what a lovely bump that was. That’s a fun kind of beginning. Terrifying, but thrilling. No grunt work, no hustling, no grinding. “I’m not wise,” I say. “I just haven’t taken as many risks as you have.”

“I find that hard to believe.”

I shrug one shoulder. “Believe what you want, but it’s true. The biggest risk I’ve taken is you.”

And lying about the photograph.

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