Page 28 of The Photo
I nudge into her with a quick taunting gesture, pleased by her answer. “Are you embarrassed to be associated with me?” My forefinger reaches for her chin, hitching her head back so her dramatic green eyes find me. They instantly dazzle, as if lucid waters are beckoning me to dive in with both feet.
“I’m using you for sex, not to further my career.” She grins, shifting closer.
“Well then, Rowan Hudson. Carry on using me. Do whatever you want. I’m all yours.” A hint of amusement darkens my tone. The thrill of her touch electrifies the hundreds of fine hairs on my skin. I roll onto my shoulder, jerking her chest into me. “We’ve got all night.”
Twelve
How I got here, to this precise moment, in this city, in this apartment, where Noah Adams is currently clouded in steam from a hot shower, is beyond me. This city has sucked me into a parallel universe where unfathomable possibilities are granted.
All night I laid with him, chatting about his life compared to mine. In between, we made love. Okay, that’s slightly presumptuous. We aren’t in love, we’re in lust, and it’s the best buzz ever. Then, with my cheek to his chest, both of us drifted off to sleep when the sun rose in the Canadian sky.
Now, the door to the bathroom is ajar, purposefully so, I’m sure. He’s such a flirt. I can tell he likes it when I quietly observe him naked.
I asked him if he was into voyeurism, and he just laughed, replying with a sexy grin and these crazy words, ‘I’m into anything that involves you.’ What a charmer. He doesn’t need to say those things to me. It only gives my silly heart a pinch of what could be but can’t have.
Between my leg’s stings from the hours of pleasure. It’s a sweet burn of indulgence and a naughty reminder of what we did together.
While he’s lathering his divine body, I linger silently, contemplating joining him. Water pelts glass and pummels those broad shoulders and powerful arms that had effortlessly manipulated me until sunrise. If I go in there, he’ll kiss me again, he’ll touch me again, he’ll take ownership of the little part of me I've kept back. That small part is a significant pulsating vein that leads all the way to my heart. I’ve guarded it from him, and most importantly, I’ve shielded it from my own expectations of more. If he tugs at it, I’ll unravel.
How can I act normal about what happened? This isn’t normal. The way I feel about him isn’t normal.
My flight leaves today and all this will be a scrapbook of photos, reminding me of the one-night stand that meant everything to me.
A doorbell chimes, and he shouts out from the bathroom, “Can you let my dog in?”
“Since when do dogs use the doorbell?” I call back, peeking at his hazy reflection in the mirror.
“Ralph was staying with my neighbors, Toby and Joseph, while I was in Rio. Could you bring him in and tell the boys I’ll thank them later?” Water splashes. A squeaky sound follows a circular clearing on the shower door. “Then, I want you wet and soapy.” His smirk means business. “And on your knees.”
The doorbell rings again.
My tummy swoops. I like him. More than I should. Like, adore him, and now that we've got intimate and sexy, I’m freaking out. I quietly step away from the door and take an apprehensive breath.
I’ll be leaving this apartment for good.
I should be grateful he picked me.
When I amble to the door, I gawk at the simple loft style living space. It’s not extravagant, nor austere. A perfect combination of modern and manly, luxury and minimalist. Fresh walls are decorated with wide prints and artwork. I love how he’s positioned them in sections of the room that use natural light to showcase the artist's talent.
As I stroll through the hallway, I find my heels on the floor where I left them. Last night seems so long ago, like I’ve lived a lifetime with him already. My bare legs prickle under the air conditioning, and I remember I’m only wearing his tee. It’s massive on me, the hem hitting mid-thigh, and it’s also too late to change now because the doorbell dings again. I cautiously turn the lock, trying to hide my body as the door opens. You’d think that would be easy, but it’s not. I’m all bare legs, arms and messy hair.
Citrusy zingy cologne hits me. Two very handsome, well-dressed men greet me with candid smiles. One man, who wears a thin pullover, holds Ralph in his arms like he’s a child. The other gives me a not so subtle, full body sweep. He looks like he was born in a pair of black skinny jeans, a second skin that shows off every muscular contour. “So you’re the reason Noah was happy to let Ralphy stay another night.” His neat eyebrow quirks, and his pout is more like a grin.
“Hi, I’m Rowan.”
“Oh wow! Where are you from?” he asks in a flurry of facial expressions.
“Dublin. I was here for a convention.”
“Aren’t you just to die for! I have an auntie who married an Irish man. It didn’t work out. She still lives in Cork.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Toby, and this hot piece of ass is my better half, Joseph.”
I shake his hand and glance at Joseph. He’s a striking man with a fine nose and high cheekbones. From his powerful self-assured stance, I guess he’s a model too. “And I’m guessing this other handsome guy is Ralph?” I tickle under the dog's jaw and let him lick me.
“Oh, Rowan, flattery will get you everywhere. I’m sure that’s not the first lick you’ve had this morning.” Toby winks, and a dimple dents his right cheek. “Tell Noah we’ll keep Ralphy for a few more nights if he needs us to. He’s fussy about Ralphy being in his apartment when he has…” Toby pauses. Creases soften around eyes as he hesitates. “Company.” I graciously accept his choice of kinder words, so I don’t appear used, but I do.
My heart drops to my toes. It’s not Noah’s fault. We both knew this would end abruptly. “It’s okay, Toby. I’m going back home to Ireland today. My flight is later this afternoon. Noah said he’ll thank you both later. He’s taking a shower right now.”
“I bet he is.” Toby laughs.
