Page 25 of Letters From Victor

I shifted on the stool, suddenly self-conscious under Victor’s lens. What had come over me, agreeing to this private photoshoot? I was a married woman, yet here I sat, allowing another man to photograph me.

“You’re a natural, Barbara.” Click. “Perfect,” Victor said as he changed his angle.

I swallowed hard, warring with myself. I should have cut this off, should have left. But the way Victor saw me—truly saw me—was addictive. I blossomed under his attention.

Victor lowered the camera and stepped toward me, his eyes intense. “Let me try something different,” he said quietly. Reaching out, he gently brushed my chin and tilted my face toward the light.

I shivered at his touch, my pulse racing. His fingers traced my jawline, lingering a beat too long before dropping away. He pulled a heavy black drop cloth from a table and pinned it over the white background. He picked the camera up again and adjusted the zoom and focus.

“Stunning.” Click. He stepped onto a low stool and stood over me. “Look at me.” Click, click. He stepped down and moved to my side. “Now turn your head—look at me over your shoulder.”

I followed his commands without hesitation.

“Just like that.” His voice was husky. Click. Victor let out a long—almost unsteady—breath as he set the camera on the table.

“Are we done?” I asked.

He chuckled. “For today.”

I sucked in a deep, fortifying breath through my teeth as Victor stepped closer. His eyes trailed over me, making my skin tingle.

“You have a rare beauty, Barbara,” he murmured. “Inside and out. I knew it the first moment I saw you.”

Heat bloomed on my cheeks under the weight of his gaze. “Victor, I…”

His fingers brushed my chin, lifting it gently. Our eyes locked, and an electric current passed between us. Slowly, giving me time to pull away, Victor lowered his head until his lips met mine in a soft, tentative kiss.

At his touch, a flame ignited within me. My hands reached up of their own accord, fingers tangling in his dark hair, drawing him closer as I returned his kiss. I stood, pushing myself up into him. Victor’s strong arms encircled me, pulling me flush against his broad chest. All thoughts of propriety vanished; there was only this man and the fire raging between us. His kiss deepened, full of pent-up longing and desire. I clung to him, dizzy with the taste and feel of him.

He slid his hands down my back, gripped my hips, and lifted me onto the edge of the table. He stepped between my knees, his body pinning me in place as he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along my throat. I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him against me, arching into him.

“Barbara,” he murmured, his voice rough with want. “You are exquisite.”

His praise sent a thrill through me. I felt beautiful, desired—seen in a way I hadn’t been for so long. I threaded my fingers through his dark hair and urged his lips back to mine.

He obliged, a smile breaking through his kisses. His hands caressed my thighs, rucking up my dress. I shivered and gasped at the sensation of his palms against my bare skin.

At the sound of my sharp inhale, Victor broke the kiss and pulled his hands out from under my dress, his breathing ragged. He pressed his forehead to mine as he gripped the table’s edge.

“Tell me to stop, Barbara,” he whispered. “Tell me this is madness and you never want to see me again.”

But the words wouldn’t come. “I can’t,” I finally murmured.

Victor’s dark eyes searched mine, seeking answers I wasn’t sure I had. “You can’t do this? Or you can’t ask me to stop?”

“I can’t…ask you to stop.” My voice quivered under the weight of my confession. “I don’t want you to stop.”

He exhaled a ragged breath, knuckles white beside my hips. “Neither do I.”

14

VICTOR

Barbara was a vision—her half-lidded eyes, the flush of her cheeks, the rising swell of her breasts with each heavy breath. I scooped her up and laid her on the thick, plush carpet beneath the intense studio lights. Her dark eyelashes fluttered as she looked up at me, her golden hair fanned out around her.

Bracing my weight on my forearms, I hovered over her and kissed her deeply, hungrily—pent-up longing exploding to the surface. She responded in kind, her hands gripping my shoulders, nails digging in. I trailed kisses down her neck as she arched into me, soft gasps escaping her lips. I ran my hands over the delicious, supple curves of her body. As I glided over her breasts, she let out a soft moan. I slipped one hand under her skirt and slid up her thigh to graze the strip of tender exposed skin—warm and smooth as satin—above the band of her nylons. She let out a soft whimper.

But it was when I cupped the warm silk of her panties that she truly surrendered to me, her delicious heat radiating beneath my fingertips, melting any resistance I had left in me.

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