Page 51 of Paparazzi

“It’s part of our charm,” he says winking at me, and I melt a little, but I realize that he hasn’t answered my question.

“Yes, I guess so.”

“Promise me that if you need it, you’ll ask for my help? I will no longer offer to give you money unless you ask me for it yourself.”

I roll my eyes and beckon him to sit at the coffee table. “Yes, I promise that if I need help, I will ask you,” I confirm, at least after I have tried everything else by myself.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned growing up, it’s that you’re on your own, always. You can’t count on others because people have their own problems, and their lives are just as messed up as yours. They may be kind people wanting to help you, but at the end of the day, you have to deal with the decisions you make and the consequences of your choices. Others can only give you support, a word of comfort, but they can’t solve your problems.

I grab the coffee pot and pour more into Thomas’s cup, but since it’s my left hand, I spill some of it on the table, swearing softly in exasperation. He grabs the sponge to clean up.

“Does it still hurt?” he asks me worriedly.

I nod and breathe deeply. “Yes. I’m not supposed to use it for a few weeks and then do physical therapy, but I live alone, and I can’t do that. Everything requires two hands, and that only makes my shoulder worse. I hope it will hurt less at some point, but I’m starting to doubt it.” My small smile, combined with my confession, does nothing to help calm his worry.

“So you can’t even work like this. Or can you?”

I shake my head while I finish my coffee. “No, the camera weighs too much to even think about lifting it and going around taking pictures,” I admit. I can’t hide my disappointment. “Let’s put it this way, I have more time to work on the blog,” I smile, but he seems engrossed in his own thoughts.

“What do you have to do to get really good money for your photos?” he asks me. There is no scolding in his voice, just curiosity.

I study him for a few seconds to see if he’s serious. I’m surprised when I can’t find any sign of humor on his face. “Do you really want to know the truth?” I raise an eyebrow.

He nods and sips from his cup as if this were a typical conversation between two work colleagues.

“Lilly and Damian are worth a lot. They’re the golden couple right now. Any public scandal about them would earn me top dollar. You have no idea what Ron is like, the slimy way he manipulates the information he’s given. He could mount a scandalous campaign about the Pope if I brought him the right picture. Someone like him could make a picture of two people who love each other seem sketchy, or worse—indecent.”

My confession doesn’t seem to bother him much. It’s almost like we’re discussing strategies for my next job.

“It makes sense,” he says with such serenity that it puzzles me. I thought he’d jump at my throat, look for a thousand reasons to make me realize that this is wrong, that my job ruins people’s lives, that they’re human beings, not just superstars. All things that I repeat to myself every day when I get up in the morning, grab my camera, and go out to capture private moments of celebrities. Instead, he is thoughtful, as if he’s trying to evaluate alternatives to this situation, but none come to mind.

“Aren’t you angry about this?”

“No, I made my peace with your work. After all, it’s my problem, how I feel about paparazzi. You just make a living. I get it...and I also realized that you never once reached out to me to get a story to sell.”

Thomas eliminates the distance between us by reaching out his hand to stroke my cheek.

“Where the hell did you come from? You’re an amazing musician, a world-famous rock star, to-die-for sexy, and on top of all that, you are also one of the most generous and honest people I have ever met. Even in romance novels, the main characters aren’t as perfect as you are.”

He bursts out laughing at my genuine confession. “They’re anything but perfect, trust me. But I try to be a good person, that’s all.”

He kisses me gently on the lips and in my stomach, those butterflies that I have pretended to ignore until now come to life. Despite everything, including my lies, he’s still here, and while I’m in seventh heaven, I’m also terrified. Because while he and I have chemistry in bed, it’s in everyday life that we get along perfectly, without any effort. I’ve learned to expect the worst from life, to be ready for whatever blow comes at me, but I’m afraid this time I won’t be able to take it if this happiness is torn from me.

I grab him with my good hand by the shirt and draw him to me, raising my face to look for his lips. His hands cup my cheeks in such a sweet squeeze that he drives away all my fear. It’s the most tender kiss anyone has ever given me, and so full of promises that I’m afraid to find out if they’ll be kept. But right now, I don’t care because Thomas is taking off the very shirt and bra that he fastened a few minutes ago. He’s stripping me again like he did last time, his hands feeling their way all over my skin.

His eyes are glued on mine, enjoying every nuance of my pleasure when with one hand, he slips between my legs and finds me ready to welcome his fingers.

“Thomas,” a whisper escapes my lips as I close my eyes and enjoy his expert touch.

With one hand, I unbutton his pants while I kiss his chest after his sweater falls to the floor. I slowly savor his skin while my breathing becomes faster and faster. He puts a hand in my hair and draws me to himself. I can feel him tightening my hair in his fingers as if he’s afraid I’ll slip away from him.

“Get off the stool,” he whispers, keeping me steady on my feet while he strips off my pants, leaving a trail of kisses on my thighs while he does so.

“It’s not fair that I’m naked and you’re not.” I smile as I point out his freshly unbuttoned pants and boxers still in place.

Thomas gives me a sly smile and lets his pants and boxers slip to the floor, kicking off his shoes. When he makes me sit on the stool again and positions himself between my legs, he doesn’t move his gaze from mine as he sinks into me, keeping me in an iron grip that makes me feel protected.

With my legs curled around his hips, I follow the slow pace of his breathing until I feel the pleasure mount to a crescendo and emotions exploding in my chest as Thomas chokes my moans with a kiss that leaves me breathless.

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