26
LUKE
By a stroke of genius, I remember I have a blanket in the trunk of my car. Part of my mother’s idea of an emergency kit, and what kind of a good southern boy am I if I don’t try to appease my mother?
Eleanor and I sleep in fits and starts thanks to the hardwood. And another kind of wood. Now that I’ve had Eleanor, I don’t know how I’m going to stop having her. Lying naked on the floor of her new place, it’s impossible to keep my hands off her. So, I don’t. An hour of sleep here, a quick dip into her personal brand of heaven there . . .
It’s paradise.
I didn’t plan well enough ahead, so I only had one condom. But after the first time and a confirmation of her being on the pill, we both threw caution to the wind.
Because there are no curtains on the windows, we’re up at first light. Earlier than early. So early that Eleanor hasn’t even put her glasses on yet. Her curls are a rat’s nest, pointing in every direction. And she’s already grabbed her camera, pointing it at the way light is draping across the wall.
“My room . . .” she says, then turns the camera on me, grinning. “With a view.”
I’m covered in all the places I’d need to be to avoid a scandal, but I’m still a bit camera-shy. “Someone should be taking pictures of you, not me.”
Eleanor is quiet. She twists the lens. I don’t claim to know what she’s doing, but from the looks of it, she’s a master. Her lips tense in focus and so does her forehead.
I remain perfectly still, marveling. Because she’s sitting there, crisscross on the floor, blanket over her lap, and her torso bare. She’s so focused that she’s not trying to suck in her stomach the way most women do. Two perfect rolls of silk skin. I’d like to lean over and kiss them raw.
She snaps the photo and then checks the screen. Smiles to herself, pleased.
I’m glad I please her. In all ways.
Eleanor grabs her glasses off the floor and thrusts them on one-handed to get a better look at me. “I find more satisfaction with keeping a record of the world through my eyes.”
My heart flutters. “And what does that look like?”
“Really fucking sexy,” she says.
I laugh and grab her, rolling onto my back so she is splayed across my chest. “Shut up.”
“Like a Calvin Klein ad.”
“That’s laying it on a little thick.”
Eleanor traces her finger from my collarbone down to my belly, letting it loop and curve like a bumblebee. “Not thick at all. Except . . .” Her hand dips below the blanket toward my dick, which has been sporting a semi since we woke up.
I jerk away before she can touch me. “Don’t touch me unless you’re ready to get flipped on your belly and totally railed, Eleanor Hayes.”
She withdraws her hand, which is for the best since we’re enjoying a languorous early morning, but I can’t help feeling a touch disappointed. With a scan of the apartment, she sighs. “Bigger in the daylight.”
“You sound sad about that,” I say, twisting my fingers through her curls.
“I could have hacked it in a studio for less, maybe. Or got some roommates,” she says.
“Baby, if you’re worried about the money—”
Eleanor’s doing everything not to look me in the eye. “I’m not worried . . . yet.”
“Hey. I’ve got your back. I’m not letting you fall flat on your face. Not that you ever would.”
“Ha! You have too much confidence in me.”
I shake my head. “I don’t. And if you keep talking shit about my girlfriend, I’ll have to square up.”
Eleanor laughs. “I’d like to see that.”
I flip her onto her back, pinning her down by her wrists. “I can show you a few moves.”
She laughs more. “Let me go, let me go!”
“Yeah, I knew you’d give up easy,” I say as I roll off her. If I don’t get off, I’m going to take her again, and I don’t think the conversation is over.
We lay there for a while, Eleanor on her back, me on my side, smoothing my fingers across her bare chest. Making sure I’ve touched every part of her. How many men have touched every part of her? And how many have done it because of sheer wonder and awe?
“What about taking photos? Why can’t you do that?”
Eleanor snorts. “Like being an event photographer? I’ll pass.”
“You’d make good money.”
“Soulless.”
I kiss her shoulder and tuck my chin against her. “Concert photography. I know someone who could get you some gigs.”
A smile perks onto her lips. “Oh, really? Are you suggesting nepotism?”
“More than nepotism because there’s kissing involved.”
She grins. “I mean, I wouldn’t say no, but it would take me a while to get good at it.”
“I’ve got people I can introduce you to. They’ll show you the ropes.”
Eleanor’s smile fades. “I hate being a beginner. I’ve been a beginner so many times.”
“Just because you’re not a kid anymore, it doesn’t mean you aren’t going to have to begin again. And again. And again.”
“How do you have it all worked out? How are you so wise, huh?”
I hesitate. I just haven’t had a lot of bumps in the road. The biggest bump I’ve had recently was Eleanor, and what a lovely bump that was. That’s a fun kind of beginning. Terrifying, but thrilling. No grunt work, no hustling, no grinding. “I’m not wise,” I say. “I just haven’t taken as many risks as you have.”
“I find that hard to believe.”
I shrug one shoulder. “Believe what you want, but it’s true. The biggest risk I’ve taken is you.”
And lying about the photograph.
Fuck. I push the thought away and exchange it for a new one. “Maybe you should sell your photographs. The world through Eleanor’s eyes.”
Her eyes roll back. I know it’s not intended to sting, but it does.
“I know I don’t know the industry, and I know it’s harder than that, but—”
“Really, Luke, it’s not easy to make people give a shit about what you see.”
I tap my fingers one at a time against her stomach until my hand is splayed against her. “How many pictures have you taken since you’ve been here? Hundreds? Thousands?”
“I don’t know, but—”
“Why not just try? We can rent you gallery space and have a show. Just one night. You never know what could—”
“Luke.”
Her voice is insistent and pained.
I bite down on my lower lip.
She shakes her head. “I’m not ready for that.”
I know she’s ready for that. And I’ll remain knowing until she’s ready to see that. I’ll be right here when she wakes up. Doesn’t she get that yet? I squeeze her waist. “Okay, honey.”
“Mm.” Her eyes flutter shut. “I love when you call me names.” Her eyes pop back open. “Nice names, not—”
I laugh. “I get your meaning, baby . . .” I drop a kiss to her clavicle. “Honey . . .” and to the inside of one breast. “Darlin’ . . .” and to the inside of the other.
Her whole body jolts, a shock of excited laughter shooting out of her mouth. “Oh, darlin’, fuck you with your little accent.”
I chuckle against her, dragging my teeth along her skin. “I’m not even close to done, sweetheart.”
We play this game until we’re tangled together and I’m rocking into her. We are both tired. Our movements are soft and unhurried. Eleanor locked around me like a koala bear. No room for me to pull out, not that I want to. I never want to leave. I’ve made a new home within her.
Eleanor whimpers into my neck, “Luke . . .”
Like she needs me. She can act like she doesn’t, but I’ll be here when she realizes she does need me. It’s a reciprocal need.
Eleanor’s body stutters and squeezes around me. I come with her, pressing a grunt into her hair. Her core is silken heat, gripping me, sending spasms of pleasure through every nerve and skein of muscles.
We can’t go back now, and I’ll do everything I can to keep us moving forward.