18. Drew
Chapter Eighteen
DREW
Kate rests her head on my chest. Is she listening to my heartbeat steadying itself after that delicious rush? I caress her silky skin and listen to the sound of her beautiful breath. After a good shag, I usually can’t wait to be left alone to sleep. But I’m in no hurry. Kate isn’t the typical girl who makes a cameo in my bedroom. She’s something else.
I inhale her scent again. Something about it is soothing. She stirs, muttering a cute, little noise, and I kiss the top of her head.
“That was really sexy. The way you showed up like that.” I say.
“So you liked the lingerie?” She circles her finger around my chest.
“Yeah. I loved it. And I loved taking it off.”
She giggles. “Good, because I couldn’t stop thinking about you while I was making it.”
My mouth turns into a goofy grin. No girl’s ever made lingerie to flaunt for me. “And now I can’t stop thinking about you in it.”
Part of me would love to ask her to stay right here in my bed for the rest of her trip. I’ll treat her like the queen that she is. The woman drives me mad with the way her body responds to me. We can shag all day, all night, and all over my flat until we get it out of our systems. Maybe by then I’ll be able to stop thinking about her and just let her go. After all, that’s the inevitable end. So maybe I shouldn’t get too used to her.
“You fancy something to eat?” I ask.
She sits up. Wild and wavy hair frames her gorgeous, flushed face. “Yeah, I really worked up an appetite.”
I plant a kiss on her cheek and roll out of the sheets.
“Mmm,” she groans hungrily as she tugs at her lower lip with her pearly teeth. The bedsheet falls to her waist, and for a moment, I can only focus on her beautiful breasts. My cock tingles, begging me to get back in bed. Instead, I walk to my closet and pull a white button-down off the rack. I cover myself with the shirt and return to the goddess in my bed. “I brought you something to wear.”
“And what if I don’t want to get dressed,” she says. What a naughty girl.
I bite my knuckle. Fuck, I need to have her again. “You know what’s going to happen if you don’t put that shirt on,” I say, ready to pounce.
Kate nods, uncovering her lap. “Uh-huh.”
“After all that, you want more?” I push my fists into the mattress, inching my nose to hers.
She giggles and then looks into my eyes. “Yeah. More of you.”
She lays on her stomach, eye level with my cock. It salutes her. Her sexy little toes point up playfully. Damn, I wish I could capture this on camera. My hand softly skates the curve of her back and over her round, plump ass. And those legs. I could nibble on her thighs for days and never get bored.
She smiles and grabs ahold of the part of me that throbs for her. Wants to be in her. She sinks my rock-hard cock into her mouth and teases the bottom of my shaft with her tongue. “Ah, fuck. Kate,” I growl.
“Mmhmm.” Her throat vibrates on the tip, and it drives me absolutely mad. How does this good girl know what I like? I let her slurp and suck me up until the moment I can’t hold back. I have to have her. Now.
Our bodies melt into one another once more. Kissing. Nibbling. Grinding. Thrusting. Moaning. I take my time with her, building up her inner heat until her body explodes all over mine.
Now that we’ve satisfied one craving, it’s time to slake another. She takes my white shirt into the bathroom while I dress and wash up down the hall. Soon, Kate tiptoes into the kitchen. Damn, she looks sexy wearing my shirt. She tucks a strand of her wild, dark hair behind her ear. “Your apartment is amazing,” she says, glancing around.
I hand her a fresh glass of water. “It’s not bad.”
“Thank you.” She gulps at least half, and I inwardly applaud myself for making her so thirsty. “Did you take all those pictures hanging in the hallway?”
“I did.” My flat is the only place I display my real work. My art is just for me anyway. At least, that’s what I tell myself anytime I consider putting it up in a gallery.
“Wow. Those shots are incredible. I love that one with the graffiti. Did you take that in Lower Manhattan?”
“Good eye. I love shooting in New York.”
“They’re stunning,” she says like she means it. Most of the women I bring over don’t even notice. “How did you get into photography in the first place?”
“My nana. She gave me my first thirty-five-millimeter Nikon for Christmas when I was eleven. I snapped photos of everything.”
“Isn’t that kind of an expensive camera for an eleven-year-old? Your nana must be a wealthy woman too.”
I laugh, pulling eggs and cheese from the subzero fridge. “Yeah, she is.”
“So then what happened?” Kate takes a seat at the breakfast counter, smoothing back her hair. Some of her eye makeup has melted off in the heat of our shag.
“I just kept at it. Not with the goal of being a photographer but because I enjoyed it. Sometimes I feel like I can make more sense of the world through a lens. Like everything’s clearer.”
“So you’re self-taught?”
I keep my eyes focused on my culinary task. “Not exactly. I apprenticed with Ferguson Burke in France for about two years.”
Kate’s jaw drops. “ The Ferguson Burke?”
I knit my brow. “You know of Ferguson Burke?” Who is this unbelievable woman?
“Yeah, my dad has a couple of his photographs. Collecting beautiful pieces is kind of his hobby. But photography is his favorite medium.”
“Sounds like a cool bloke.”
She laughs. “Yeah, I think you’d like him.” Is she intending to introduce me to her father? Our eyes meet, and her warm, satisfied gaze turns uncertain. “Not that you two will ever meet.” Kate waves like she’s shooing away the comment. “Anyway, your work is beautiful. I’m a fan.”
Fashion photography keeps me busy, and I don’t put too much stock in its perfection. But when it comes to real art, Burke drilled perfection into my brain, and so nothing I do is ever great, in my opinion. It’s just good enough to hang in my hallway. Nothing more.
“Thank you,” I say, trying my best to accept the compliment. Then I walk around the granite counter and kiss Kate again. “I’m a fan of your work too.”
She smiles, and her cheeks turn a pretty pink. “What about the picture of the four boys and little girl?”
“Now, that one I can’t take credit for. My Uncle Grant took it when we were kids.”
“Oh, so cute! Are those all your siblings?” she asks.
“The two on either side of me are my brothers, Kent and Mick. And the ones on the end are our cousins, Dash and Dahlia.
“Aw, I always wished I had a bigger family. Siblings and cousins. Do they all live in London?”
I’m not usually one to talk about my family with women, but I’ll tell Kate everything she wants to know. Trust is not something I give freely to women. But for some reason, I already trust her. “Yes, all of them except Dahlia, who lives in L.A. She’s an actress.”
“What about the others? Are they bad boy photographers like you?”
I chuckle. “Definitely not. Kent and Dash work in the family business. And Mick, the oldest is a heart surgeon. He’s the one getting married this weekend.”
Kate raises an eyebrow. “The family business?”
“Finance,” I say, hoping to leave it at that.
“Got it. So you’ll be having a little family reunion this weekend then?”
I sigh. “More like a circus.”
“You don’t sound too excited.”
“I love my brother. What’s not to love? He’s the perfect guy. It’s just not my scene.”
“So, do you have a date for this circus?” Kate asks, and I bite back a little laugh. Why is everyone so interested in my dating life? “Not that it’s any of my business.” She quickly qualifies her question. True. It’s none of her business. But what if it could be?
It could take the edge off the event. Not to mention, I’ve got the groom’s blessing. Should I ask her to join me? It’s just a wedding date. Not a big deal. No one’s actually expecting me to bring someone.
Admittedly, I get a little rush from subverting expectations. Then again, it could be interpreted as a sign of something more serious, which is why I stopped inviting women to family functions years ago.
I’m not a man capable of being serious with anyone. The thought never crosses my mind. Except it did for a split second when she came in my mouth. In that instant, just an instant, I wanted her to be mine. Always. I shake the idea away.
Passion doesn’t typically inspire these sorts of monogamous thoughts, but I guess there’s a first time for everything. Kate’s going home soon. I doubt she’ll expect anything from me after that. And I won’t expect anything of her either.
So why not? Kate could make Westminster Abbey a lot more fun.
“No, I don’t,” I answer her finally. “Are you interested?”