Page 63 of I Saw Her First

“I shot more of the carriage houses and other parts of Brooklyn Heights a couple weeks ago,” Daisy adds, and I nod, having seen some of those pictures strung up in the darkroom. “I think I want to explore that more. The architectural details of the historical buildings.”

My heart presses against my ribcage, hearing her speak excitedly about photography. I’m so damn proud of this woman for reclaiming this part of herself, for taking something that caused her pain and turning it into joy.

I snake my hands around her waist, holding her close as I bury my nose in her hair. The citrusy smell of her shampoo floods my senses, and I press my lips to the shell of her ear. I wonder if she can feel the way I’m growing hard again with her soft, naked body pressed into me. I wonder if she can feel the way my heart beats steadily at the feel of her, the wayIfeel for her. How thoughtful she is, how creative, how sweet and sexy at the same time. Just being around her makes me a better man, and I can’t get enough.

“Wes,” she murmurs. “I keep thinking about something you said last night.”

I stroke her skin softly. “What’s that?”

“You said you’d wanted me for months. When I was with Jess…”

“Yeah.” I blow my breath out slowly, watching it ruffle a loose wisp of her hair. I could lie to her, but I don’t want to. Besides, she’s made it clear she wanted me all along, too. “I know I shouldn’t have wanted you while you were with my son, but…” My jaw hardens as I shake my head. “I couldn’t stop myself. It killed me to see you with him. It killed me to know you were his.”

Daisy is quiet.

“I don’t feel good about it,” I add.

“I don’t feel good about having feelings for you while I was with him, either. I tried to make them stop, but…” She shrugs, letting out a little sigh. “I couldn’t.”

Despite myself, a feeling of satisfaction snakes through me. I shake off any residual guilt at the thought of Jess, telling myself there’s no point in thinking about my son when he wants nothing to do with me. When I’ve got this woman here, right now.

You’re mine, I want to tell her, but I swallow the words, afraid of what she might think. I pull her closer, letting my hands roam her soft, wet skin. I’ll need to leave after this, to stop things from going any further, but for now, I just let myself hold her.

And even after everything I’ve been through, in this moment, I feel lucky as fuck.

26

Daisy

I’m holding my breath as I let myself into Weston’s house after work. I didn’t see his Audi out on the street, so I already know he’s not home, but that doesn’t stop me from hoping.

But the sound of the heavy oak door closing echoes through the empty house, and I release a long breath, turning for the basement. Technically, I’m not here to see Wes, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t secretly wishing we’d cross paths.

After last night, I’m not entirely sure where I stand with him. I haven’t stopped thinking about what happened in my room. Somehow, he made all my inhibitions disappear, made me do something I never imagined I’d do in front of someone else. The way he spoke to me, the dirty words he used, the way he lost control and let me watch him too… Honestly, I didn’t know he had that in him. He’s always been so sweet and respectful toward me, so careful how he behaves, but that was something else. My body shivers as I replay what he did. If I thought I wanted him before, that was nothing.

And right when I thought he was finally going to give it to me, he left. If I hadn’t asked him to join me in the tub, I’m pretty surehe would have left sooner. It was like he couldn’t wait to get out of there.

I sigh as I step into the darkroom and drop my bag, pulling out the roll of film I shot yesterday. Flicking on the safety light and making sure the door is firmly closed, I set about developing the film, my mind trying to make sense of the events of the past few days.

Today was my first shift at Joe’s since Wes and I… I don’t even know what to call it. Got together? Hooked up? When I told him I wanted everything with him, he said he wanted that too, and yet it’s almost feeling like after that first night together in his kitchen, he’s pulled away. Yes, he came to dinner at my place last night, but he would barely touch me. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed watching him touch himself, but that’s not what I wanted. What I wanted washim, close to me. Inside me. I wanted to make love to him.

I still want that, but does he feel the same?

Confusion swirls through me as I sort the film negatives and decide which print to make first. Because yes, he kept his distance and left quickly, but the way he held me in the bathtub… My heart quickens as I remember his hands, so soft on my waist, stroking my skin in the water. The way he tenderly kissed my ear and pulled me into his chest. It felt so intimate, like the way you’d hold someone you loved dearly. Someone you cared for more than anything.

I shake my head as I expose my first print and place it into the tray of developer, because if he felt that way, why would he bolt the minute we got out of the tub? Why would he say something vague like, “I’ll text you,” then not do it?

And why didn’t he come into work today? He kept his distance before, but it’s different now. Why not come into Joe’s this morning like he used to? Wouldn’t he want to see me?

Because I want to see him. Fuck, do I ever. He’s all I’ve thought about since… well, if I’m being honest, quite a while now.

I move the print through the trays of liquid required to expose the image, then hang it above the bathtub before choosing the next image to expose. I try to focus as I go through the process of developing more images, but it’s hard with my mind wandering to Wes, to what he could be thinking. I was so excited when he first said he wanted me, when it looked like things were moving forward with us, but after last night, I’m not sure.

Well, I’m sure of one thing. Despite his mixed signals, I’m falling hard for him. Hell, I fell for him the minute he showed me this darkroom, only I couldn’t admit it to myself. Yet after he held me close in the tub last night there was no denying my heart anymore. I’m falling hard and fast for him, and I don’t even know how he feels about me.

It’s fucking terrifying.

I step back from the row of pictures I’ve developed, looking at them hanging over the tub. For a moment I forget about Wes, as the thrill of looking at what I’ve created rushes through me. I’ve captured some beautiful architectural details of the West Village, like the shots I took of Brooklyn Heights. I don’t know what I’ll do with them, but just looking at them makes me happy. Just being in this room makes me happy.

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