Page 49 of Midnight Confessions

“Mr. Fox, Miss Sommers, thank you for taking the time to meet with me. I’m Victoria West. This lighting check will be quick and painless.”

The tall slender woman with grayish blonde hair braided down to her knees must be our photographer.Theirphotographer!Preston and Sondra’sphotographer.Fuck me, I’d kick myself in the dick if I could.

“I know Miss Bose’s colors differ vastly, so please try to see past it. I asked you here because we’re setting up exactly like this for her wedding, unless you think she’d prefer a different view.”

“Oh my gosh, no,” Winter pipes up quickly. “This view is stunning. She’ll love it.”

“Wonderful. I’ve asked you here at sunset because the sun will set right behind them during the ceremony. It’s heavenly.” Victoria looks us over from head to toe. “Are you two about the same height as Preston and Sondra?”

“I’m just about the same height as Sondra…”

“I’m probably about an inch taller than Preston.”

“Okay. Will you two please step up to the altar and face each other? I’m going to use you two as place-markers. I’ll take pictures so that when the big day comes, I will already know how to set up. I won’t need to involve the bride or groom on their big day. TheI do’sare timed to take place exactly at sunset, so the timing to get the right shots is crucial.”

Winter glances at me with a hesitant smile. This is an odd situation for us to be in. We’ve been dancing around each other all day. Thankfully, being around her isn’t uncomfortable, and I don’t think she is either, but we’ve been cautious not to poke the bear, so to speak.

The bear? The insanely consuming sexual tension between us. I admit, it was probably a bad idea for us to take our arrangement to the next level, but fuck if I could stop myself. When Winter lets her guard down, she’s nothing short of flawless. And last night, she tapped into desires I didn’t even know I had.

Winter and I step up to the altar and face each other. Her eyes land everywhere but my face. She focuses on my shoulders, my tie, she glances at my neck, then looks past me.

“Take a step toward each other, please,” Victoria says. So we do.

Winter is wearing a simple white T-shirt with a black bra underneath and cut-off, frayed at the edges jean shorts, and Chuck Taylors. Always Chuck Taylors. Which I love. Why doesn’t it bother me she’s not wearing any fucking socks? I give her shit about it, but honestly, I don’t care. She’s adorable. Adorably beachy.

Why does she make such a simple outfit—one that would make most women fade into the background—look so damn sexy? I can’t tell if I want to lie with her on the couch, our legs tangled together while we watch something mundane likeAccess Current AffairsorEverybody Loves Raymond… or rip her clothes off with my teeth and fuck her against the glass wall that overlooks our terrace.

Victoria walks around us, taking pictures from different angles, occasionally adjusting her camera lens while Winter and I look beyond each other. We look over each other’s clothes, ignore the mounting electricity between us, and basically stand like idiots with our thumbs up our asses.

“Please take a small step to your right, toward me…” We do. “Perfect! That’s your sweet spot. Now, take another step toward each other.” She turns her attention to Winter. “Darling, put your hands in his…”

Winter’s eyes finally lift to mine. She swallows hard as we take a step toward each other, her toes touching mine, and she slides her hands into my palms.

Mounting fucking electricity between us.

“Sup,” I whisper, attempting to crack the ice.

She chuckles, then grins, blinking her big golden-brown eyes at me. “Whazzup,” she whispers back.

Victoria circles us, snapping pictures from every direction, but all I notice are the violet, orange, and red slivers of light dancing across Winter’s face, neck, and chest as the sun sets behind the ocean to our right. She watches me watch her, and tiny reflections of dancing water shine in her eyes.

I thread my fingers between hers, rubbing circles over her palms with my thumbs. Her grin settles into a soft line and her heart-shaped lips part slightly.So fucking slight, but I see it. Irevelin it. I imagine slipping my tongue through it. I imagine wrapping my arms around her waist and pulling her into me, erasing the short distance between us.

I imagineher.

Onlyher.

Fuck.

I lean in closer, not even sure if I’m deciding to do it, or if I’m being pulled by some invisible force she possesses. My heart thumps against its cage and for the first time in, maybeever,I feel a flutter in my gut. An enormous, nauseating flutter, making my limbs feel tingly and my nerves feel electric.

Butterflies.

Filthy obnoxious little things, they are. And for the one millionth time since I’ve met Winter, annoyance pricks my brain like a vulture picking at a freshly deceased carcass. How can one emotion exist within the other? Annoyance and visceral excitement. I hate this feeling—I can’t control it. I can control attraction. I can control the way women feel about me by doing ornotdoing specific things. I can even control my attraction to her.

Control.

Butthis, thisfeeling is positively un-fucking-welcomed.

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