Page 79 of Ripped & Shipped
“Our what?”
“Chill, Soldier. It’s just the wind down. We lay on our backs and breathe. You’ve got this.”
I lie down next to Ella Mae, every so often I sneak a peek over at her. She’s got her eyes shut and she’s breathing peacefully. I wonder if this is what she looks like when she sleeps. She’s got such a gorgeous face. Today, it’s mostly make-up free, my favorite look on her. It’s unguarded, just like she’s been with me today. No mask. No pretense. Just the two of us hanging out while I pass gas. Yeah.
I close my eyes and breathe.
Yoga. Who knew?
After a few minutes, Ella Mae tells me to stand up.
“Let’s go get the rest of our pictures taken. Drink some water first.”
“Bossy.”
“Always.” She winks at me.
I barely remember that the reason we’re doing this is to put on a charade for that creep online.
“Sit on the loveseat,” Ella Mae says.
She grabs her camera and tripod, and rearranges it so it’s facing us on the couch. Then she plops down next to me so our thighs are touching.
“Ready?”
I don’t know what I am. Ready seems to be the farthest thing from whatever it is I’m feeling.
“Okay. I’m just going to fawn over you, and you can be all broody or you can respond, or fawn over me, or whatever. I’ll capture pictures and we can pick which ones sell the concept best.”
The concept? What concept?My brain has exited the building. Our legs are touching and I feel every spot of contact. Ella Mae smells good—citrus and cinnamon or cloves. Her face is mere inches from mine. I’m overwhelmed by her. When was the last time I was this close to a woman? My last date? That was over nine months ago, and I felt nothing like this, not even when we were kissing goodnight.
Ella Mae shocks me out of my thoughts when her hand reaches up and cups my jawline.
“Oh, this beard!”
She actually said that.
“I’ve been dying to touch your beard.”
What? She has?
Her hand caresses my cheek and chin.
“Relax, Chris. You look like you’re going to the dentist, not hanging out with your adoring girlfriend.”
She laughs this carefree laugh. I look at the phone screen to see the picture of us. She’s right. I look tortured. She looks—beautiful.
“Okay,” I say, recommitting to the mission.
I’m going all in. This Beefy guy needs to see that Ella Mae has a man in her life, and that man could flatten anyone who tries to hurt her.
I turn my face toward Ella Mae’s, intending to look in her eyes to give the camera a show. But her eyes are right there, staring back at me, wide and blue, and full of playfulness. It’s like a punch to the gut. I hear the remote click.
Ella Mae’s still looking at me. A smile graces her lips. She looks over at the phone. “Oh! These are pure gold! Do more like that, Chris!”
“Okay,” I say, regaining focus again. Photos. For Instagram. Yes. Photos for Instagram. Okay.
I look at her and then I cup her cheek, allowing my thumb to caress her soft skin. She gets this serious look on her face, but I hear the click of the remote.
