Page 44 of The Alpha Escort Agency
“It’s just?”
“You must feel those things to project them like that.”
His vision falls to the floor, a loud ringing in his ears. “Maybe.” She slides her arm around his waist and rests her head on his chest, and the press of her body against his has the lowness dissipating instantly. “Let’s look at the next.”
The other people are beginning to wane away now, there’s only a handful of people left in the gallery, the clink of a few glasses and the sweep of the wind through the space every time the door opens. She tilts her head when they stop in front of the photo and then pinches his arm.
“What?”
“Well, this one is really, really … angry.”
“You never got angry?” His shoulders tense. Is this a bad thing? Something that will repel her away? He looks at the photo. In this, the sunset has dyed a lake scarlet and two swans plunge into the water, their feet disturbing the flat surface, droplets and spray hanging in the air, the power in the wide wings of the birds clear.
“Yes, of course, but how do you do that? How can you make me feel such different things?”
He shrugs, removing the glass from her hand and draining the last drops.
“Is there another?” she asks.
“Here.” His final photo hangs against the back wall, sheltered by one of the partition walls. He leads her around the corner and comes to stand behind her in front of it. One lone spot light illuminates the photo from the ceiling. It’s the one he took at the river, the back of her head, her ear, her lips and her nose silhouetted against the autumn water. He's manipulated it in his darkroom, blurring the lines between her face and the environment around her. It makes her appear ethereal, like a being of the water or the trees. “What feeling does this one evoke?”
She wriggles in his arms. “Is … is that me?”
He hovers away. “I’m sorry. I should have asked you first.”
She twists round towards him. “No, no. It’s fine,” she turns back to the photo, “it’s beautiful. Very beautiful.”
He tightens his hold on her and leans down to whisper, brushing his lips over the shell of her ear. “You have a very pretty ear.” Her whole body has stilled, listening to his deep Alpha voice. He glances down at her gland, the tissue-thin skin stretched and thrumming ever so slightly.
“You … you think I have a pretty ear?”
“Yes.” He moves her around to face him and examines her face. “You have a pretty ear.” He curls her hair around the shell of it. “And a pretty cheek bone.” He traces the ridge of it with his fingertips. “And a pretty jawline.” He scoops his fingertips under her chin and she bites her lip. She gazes up at him with those hazy green eyes, the colour of summer grass. “And pretty, very pretty lips.” Still holding her chin with the curl of his fingers, he glides the pad of his thumb over her plump bottom lip, releasing it from her teeth, stroking over it one way, then the other, then tugging it down, exposing her neat little teeth and her deep red gums.
He inhales, submerging himself in her scent, and leans down to kiss her. He skims his lips over hers, not giving her the satisfaction of a full kiss until he’s ready, savouring first the soft touch of her smooth skin on his, and darting his tongue between her parted mouth.
He rests one hand on her waist, the other around her neck, holding her mouth close to his, caressing her bottom lip between his and then her top, increasing the pressure each time, building the kiss up, opening his mouth to take more and more of her, his tongue now deep inside, sliding around her mouth and over her teeth, wanting to convey how much he wants her. A promise, not of spoken words, but of the care of his lips.
“Errr hem.” Someone coughs loudly behind him. He pauses, reluctant to pull away but forcing himself to, catching a glimpse of her dilated pupils before he faces the interrupter.
“We’re closing up now," says Hugo. “Oh hello Alice." His eyes flick between the two of them.
“Hi,” she squeaks, and he’s sure her voice sounds a little breathless.
Hugo's eyebrows quiver in amusement. “Good news though, Rory," he says, returning his attention in Rory’s direction.
“Really?” Alice says, bouncing up onto her toes.
“Yes, you sold a few prints and there was definite interest in your work.” He gestures towards the door and the three walk towards the exit. “Come back tomorrow to collect the prints and we’ll talk more.” He holds out his hand and Rory shakes it as he walks through the door.
Once they’re out on the street, she grasps his hand to her chest, then flings her arms around wide and twirls on her feet. “Rory, that’s amazing.”
He runs his hand through his hair, fiddling with the collar, tight at his neck, as excitement bubbles in his stomach. He shouldn’t let himself get excited. It won’t end well. But hers is infectious. He can’t help but let it creep across his body until his grinning at her.
Fuck it, he thinks, sweeping her up off her feet and spinning her around until she throws back her head and screams. When he places her back on the ground, he doesn’t let her go.
“Let me take you home, Omega.” His blood pounds through his veins, every fiber of his body reacting to hers. He feels alive.
“It’s okay. I can catch a taxi.”
