Page 45 of Pictures in Blue
“Thank you.”
After she ties her hair in a high ponytail, she goes to the sleeping bag, and lays down with her back toward me even though it’s not even 7 p.m. Stubborn woman.
Just breathe.
I stand and shift my pants, forcing myself to think of anything else besides the woman in front of me and what the curve of her hip would feel like in my hand.
My dogs.
My parents.
Elias.
Ethan.
Sky.
Fran.
…Avery.
Avery and the way her light hair fans out above and around her head, her arm curled up under her. The way she looked before she came into the water with me. The way she looked after getting out, the water slowly dripping down her body, slick and wet, and suddenly I want other parts of her to be slick and wet and I want to be the one to draw that reaction from her body.
Fuck. It’s going to be a long night.
Climbing in behind her, I put as much space between us as I can without giving up too much of the cover, but we are close enough I can feel the heat radiating from her, her rapid breathing louder than the crackling fire.
“You okay?” I whisper.
“Mmhmm,” is all she says, her fist above the sleeping bag clenching and unclenching.
I lay on my back with one arm stretched up behind my head, and my other resting on my chest. Staring at the sky, trying to make out the constellations I can see through the trees, but all I can see is the glint Avery had in her eyes when we almost kissed. The steady beat of her heart I felt when I grazed her jaw, and the breathless way she asked what I was doing. What I wouldn’t give to go back to that moment and not take my time. To catch her lips with mine before she said anything. It’s good that she stopped me, because there’s no way I would have been able to stop with just a kiss. Not with her.
“Tell me a story,” she says so softly, I almost don’t hear her.
“Mm, what kind of story?”
“A happy one.”
I think for a second, shifting through the stories I’ve told Ethan in the past before deciding on one.
“The year Buttercup was born, the most beautiful woman in the world was a French scullery maid named Annette.”
Avery starts laughing, shifting her body so it mirrors mine, her lying on her back, an arm resting under her head. “Really, Hudson? You think I wouldn’t recognize the first line ofThe Princess Bride?”
“Long shot,” I say with a smile. Another smile. The last time I smiled this much was… well, I don’t know. Years ago probably. When Sarah was here.
“Tell me a different one. Anoriginalone,” she emphasizes.
“As you wish,” I say without hesitation before I really think about it.
The air grows thick again and I become even more aware of her heat beside me. It’s taking everything in me to keep my hand where it’s resting on my chest. To not reach out for her hand to still her movements, back to clenching and unclenching.
“Once upon a time,” I start and she snorts. “C’mon, Sunshine, you want a story or not?”
“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” she says in between laughs. “It’s just a cheesy opening.”
“Cheesy? It’s classic!” I argue.
