Page 36 of The Photo
Here it comes. Brace. Brace. “I miss you, baby,” I tell her. It’s the truth. One hundred percent. Those words didn't arrive out of some misplaced game. That small remark is so insignificant compared to the gaping hole in my life where she belongs.
“I miss you too, Noah.” She leans in, cleavage glistening with beads of water trickling from wet locks. My mood has morphed from seething anger to sexual hysteria. “But you have to stop this. I came home from class to find another seahorse on my doorstep. Who knew you could get gigantic helium balloons shaped as seahorses?” Her eyes sparkle, and a droplet rolls down her temple. “That’s almost a seahorse every day.”
“Did you like him?” I’m desperate to touch her. This separation is driving me bonkers.
“What made you think it was male?” Her nose wrinkles, and she wipes her forehead.
“He had a sack thingy on his belly, didn’t he?” I check.
She grins. “Very clever, Mr. Adams.” Damn, I love it when she calls me that. “Have you done seahorse research?”
“Maybe.” Everything revolves around Rowan. When we aren’t chatting or messaging, I’m looking up weird shit like seahorse anatomy and Irish house rentals with swimming pools. Which, let me add, are fucking rare. However, I came across a castle with too many bedrooms and forty acres of woodland.
“Did you look inside his sack?” I ask, lifting my brows in a question.
Her forehead wrinkles. “It’s called a pouch,” she corrects. “And no, I didn’t look inside.” Before I get the chance to answer, she disappears. I hear her voice and the squeal. “Noah!”
She’s found it. I paid the balloon company a few extra bucks to make sure the seahorse had a working pouch, and then I expedited a gift. I’d give her anything.
I could fuck any woman on my contact list, but none of them interest me. Not like this. I get such a rush from sending her things, from hearing her laugh and from seeing her smile. She’s got me wrapped around her finger and has no idea.
Rowan clambers on the bed and wiggles her ankle at the viewfinder. How she keeps the towel intact is a fucking skill. “Where on earth did you get it?” She fingers the fine silver chain resting around her slender ankle and the dainty seahorse charms dangling to her foot. “I love it. I really do,” she gushes. “There's two of these little guys.”
“I had it made for you. It’s one of a kind. Just like you.” I must admit, it turned out better than I expected. “I’m the one with the tiny pouch, obviously,” I laugh, eyeing her as she inspects the intricate design.
“I wish you were here.” Her chin rests on her knee.
“Me too.”
Rowan’s smile fades. “It’s been four weeks, Noah. The distance isn’t getting any shorter. I—”
“Don’t say it,” I interrupt. “Alexa is going through my schedule today. We couldn’t rearrange last month's shoots because it was too short notice. She’ll move a few things around this month so I can fly over. I promise you; it won’t be long.”
Four fucking weeks has already been too long. That’s a whole month. Or twelve months in dog years. Ralph would give up on me if I didn’t pet him for that long. Another handful of weeks and my balls will be blue and my heart pining. “I’ll definitely be there for your graduation.”
“Noah, that's months away,” she groans.
“Move the phone lower. Take off the towel,” I order. I'm too horny to talk about magazine articles and seahorses. Anyway, the chances of her buying a Canadian glossy magazine is low, so there’s no point starting a fire for no reason when I can get off instead. “I’ve made you another playlist.”
The camera glides downwards. The fluffy towel slips away. “I love your playlists.” She pushes her breasts together. We've gotten used to this show and tell scenario. In the beginning she found it hard to trust me. Now she’s braver, flirty and dirty.
This is killing me. “There’s a song on it called Lost Stars.” I pop open the buttons on my jeans with one hand. “That’s what this is like, Rowan. We’re like two lost stars trying to find each other in the dark.”
Rowan falls backward and holds the phone above her. Coppery lengths map white sheets. Pearly skin glows under the soft lighting in her room. Her hand goes on a journey. “We’re not lost, Noah. I’m right here. One of these days we’ll collide again, and when we do, it will be the biggest explosion ever.”
“I’m going to explode all over the screen,” I tell her, stroking my dick to the sound of her voice.
Even though the stars are light years away, we still marvel at their elegance. Although Rowan is in another country, I’ll happily adore her from afar if it means I can keep her as my own.
“Put your fingers in your mouth and suck them like you're taking my dick.” I lower to my back.
“First things first. How about you show me what I’m missing, Noah?” she purrs.
My needy dick fills with blazing hot blood. I kick off my jeans, roll onto my belly and snuggle the phone vertically into my pillow. Then I lift to my knees and tilt my pelvis, so my hard-on strikes my navel. With just enough speed, I slide my palm up and down until she hums with approval. That sound whips through me like a lethal hit of stimulants. I’m coiled like a spring. Balls tight. Heart thumping. Nothing will replace the sensation of her tight walls gripping my dick, but I have to take what I can get.
My tee comes off in a rush, and I rake my hair like I’m getting ready to pose for the camera. “You know what I want you to do right now, don’t you?” I lift the phone to my face.
“Yes.” She’s already breathless. I love how she gets off on this foreplay too.
