by Casey Hagen
“Pamela…I’d be honored.”
She gave Pamela her email address and told her to send the shots right over. Within five minutes of getting off the phone, she had a shared Google drive folder in her email.
There were thirteen in all. Laura radiated love and light with every smile. Jason, the typical toddler, had a mischievous look in his eye and looked ready to sprint toward the next adventure at any minute. He looked like he was literally ready to pop out of the photo and grab life.
That’s what she wanted: a photo of Laura and Jason grabbing life and holding on tight. Shot eleven nailed it.
Jason’s little jean-clad legs hugged Laura’s waist. She held her arms around his back, supporting him as they spun in a sea of flowers and butterflies, her wavy hair fanning out in a thick curtain behind her. A huge smile split her face, plumping her cheeks, the hugeness of her happiness forming the beginnings of laugh lines around her eyes.
Jason’s matching blond locks were just long enough to lift away from his head. Bellamy would bet he was squealing, with the way his smiling mouth was open wide, his pearly-white baby teeth on full display with their narrow little spaces separating them.
Bellamy sat up straight and went to work. She’d leave the lines. She’d leave almost everything. The beauty of this shot was the action, something Bellamy was amazed Pamela managed to catch so well with a regular camera.
The fixes would come with the light and shadows. Bellamy picked tiny areas, making small modifications, zooming in and zooming back out to check her work. An hour in, she stretched her neck and pushed her chair back.
She had it. She really had it. They were gorgeous, the two of them, locked together in a sea of love, trust, and wonder.
She couldn’t wait for Shane to see the final product. She’d go first thing in the morning to get the prints done. They’d be printed and framed by noon. They always were.
Bellamy lay in her bed and smiled into the darkness as calm settled over her.
She had this.
Chapter 9
Shane arrived at Bellamy’s just in time to find her running out the door.
Again.
It was starting to piss him off.
“Where are you going now?” Shane asked while standing at her door, a scowl firmly in place.
“Well, gee, Shane. I do have a mortgage and bills to pay, so there’s this pesky little thing I have to do sometimes called work. Perhaps you’ve heard of it,” she said, a smile tugging at her lips.
He rubbed the back of his neck and his cheeks flushed. “Okay, I deserved that. Look, I was just hoping to spend some more time with you. We caught up the other night, but I mean just time with you, not filling each other in on what we missed, not hashing out the past. Can we do that?”
She glanced at her cell before tucking it back into her purse. “How about this. I’ll cook tonight. We can have dinner here. Is that okay?”
Away from prying eyes and with a bed nearby.
Sold.
Despite the obvious benefits, he had to ask, had to be sure. “Aren’t you worried dinner might lead to a short walk to your bedroom?”
“I guess if I were a virgin I’d be worried, but since I’m not…”
A shard of anger cut through him. He didn’t want to think about it. About her with another man. The image of her sharing her body with a faceless guy was just too damn much.
And, yeah, he knew how unfair it was for him to feel that way.
She put her hand on his arm. “Hey, I was only kidding. Seriously, just trying to lighten the mood.”
“Yeah, I’m feeling light all right.” He bent down and planted his shoulder at her waist, his arm between her thighs, and tossed her over in a fireman’s carry before hauling her right back into the house.
“Hey, cut that out and put me down!” she demanded, thumping on his back.
“You got it.” He found her bedroom, first door on the left, and tossed her onto her unmade bed. “I didn’t take you for a slob.”
She lay there, her lungs heaving, fire in her eyes aimed right at him. “What the hell has gotten into you, anyway?”
“You.” He lay over her, settling himself between her knees. The move pushed her skirt high up on her hips, just short of revealing what she had on underneath.
He locked his forearms on either side of her head as he pressed his hips into her, watching the way her eyes transformed from angry orbs into half-lidded, passion-filled slits. “I’m not sure how I feel about this smart-mouthed version of the girl I knew.” He cupped her chin and bit down on her lower lip.
She whimpered below him and squirmed against his hips. “Girl you know. I’m still her. Just older is all.”
“And not a virgin.”
“No, not a virgin,” she agreed.
“Your first time. Was he good to you?”
“He didn’t hurt me, if that’s what you’re asking. Well, beyond the natural pain that goes with the first time.”
“It should have been me.”
“Maybe it’s better it wasn’t.”
“Why would you say that?”
“Any changes in our decisions then might not have brought us here. I like here.”
She ran her fingers through his hair, the scratch of her nails sending chills down his spine. With every heaving breath her round breasts thrust into his face, and finally he just couldn’t help himself. He slid his fingers between the buttons and popped the first, second, and third in quick succession.
He wouldn’t go for full access. Not yet. He just needed a taste to get him through to dinner. He’d been too long without. The first time he’d seen Bellamy’s breasts was still the most vivid memory he had of their playing.
He hadn’t expected the light freckles and their pretty rose-colored tips. He’d never dreamed that just one swirl of his tongue would have her crying out.
He wanted to burn that sound into his brain again.
Now.
He dragged a finger down her cleavage. “Do you still like here?”
She looked up at him from where she had watched his finger trace over her skin. “I love here.”
Bless her, the bra clasped in the front. He pinched the hook together and twisted. The bra parted, exposing her soft flesh, but her breasts held the cups in place.
Their mingled breaths hitched, as they both seemed to expect her breast to break free. Leaning on his forearm, he slid his palm into the cup and palmed her breast without revealing it to his eyes. The rock-hard tip teased his palm, making his cock throb painfully in his jeans.
Her thighs quivered around his hips. Her skin glowed in the sunshine streaming through the sheer ivory curtains. The urge to bury his face between her thighs hit him so hard he clenched his jaw, telling himself he would wait.
Pushing her bra to the side, he bared her pretty breasts. They looked the same, but fuller than all those years ago.
More edible.
More…his.
He licked her nipple, heard the groan escape her, felt her hands lock in his hair. Under her encouragement, he locked his lips around the tight bud and sucked.
Curious if it had the same effect as then, he dipped his finger into the edge of her panties and found her warm, wet, and wanting.
He bit down on the peak, gently, and felt the liquid rush between her legs.
Fuck, why did he start this now?
With a sigh of regret, he pulled the front of the bra back over her breasts and pushed up to his knees.
She searched his eyes. “We’re stopping?”
“Yeah.”
He climbed over her and sat on the edge of the bed. Hurt and confusion clouded her green eyes as she hooked her bra and buttoned her top. “Look, maybe tonight isn’t such a good idea after all.”
“Wait, why?”
“Well, look how well this turned out.”
“This turned out so goddamned well that I had to stop.”
She didn’t look him in the eye; instead she stretched her skirt b
ack down over her knees, seemingly trying to cover every inch of herself from his eyes.
He clasped her shoulders and turned her to him. “Hey, did you want a quickie and then to have to get back to your day? Or did you want a night where we don’t have to watch the clock and worry?”
“It’s not me?” she asked.
“Hell, no. If anything, it’s me.” He tilted her chin up and pressed a lingering kiss to her lips. “I haven’t been with anyone since…” He scratched his forehead. “Anyway, I want to do this right. And I’m greedy. I want all night.”
“Okay,” she whispered, biting her bottom lip and grinning.
“Okay, I’m going to the studio. You’re going…well, wherever I stopped you from going. It’s not another date, right?”
“Date?” she said. Confusion etched on her face, her pretty brows furrowed.
“The other night you went on a date.”
“The other—oh.” She nodded her head. “Forties night at the senior center.”
“That was your date?”
She held her palms out. “Well, yeah.”
“I’m an idiot.”
“I want it on record that you said it, not me,” she said, pointing a finger at him.
He stood up and reached out a hand to help her off the bed. “Yeah, you, my sister, my mother…”
“It sounds like you’ve been making idiot tracks all over St. Helena this week.”
“You could say that.”
She pulled her shirt into place and smoothed her skirt again now that she was on her feet. “Are you done now?”
He shook his head sadly. “Probably not.”
***
Bellamy picked up the pictures around lunch time and cushioned them in her car for travel. She stopped off at the hospital to check in on Shane’s father, only to get to his room and find Pamela snuggled up to George on the bed fast asleep.
His arm, despite the tubes hanging from it, held his wife pressed right up to his side. Bellamy leaned against the doorway and just watched them for a few minutes.
Did Shane realize how lucky he had been to grow up with parents like that?
She stopped at the grocery store and picked up the ingredients to make macadamia-crusted chicken breasts and green beans for dinner.
It seemed like something fancy, but not too heavy for later when they hopefully ended up in the bedroom.
By the time she made it home, it was late afternoon and Shane had already left. She found a note in his handwriting on her dining room table.
I’ll be back around 6:30. Be ready for me…
-Shane
She glanced at the clock. Four-thirty.
Shoot.
She rushed into the bathroom and turned on the shower. All of a sudden, knowing that their night together loomed before them almost as a certainty, nerves got the best of her and everything that could go wrong ran through her head. The niggling sense that she forgot something nagged at her, but soon was buried under a hundred other worries that came with the first time with a man.
Maybe he liked women with Brazilians. Did she have a fresh razor to shave her legs? Could she get her skin soft enough before he got there? She didn’t suppose she had time to chemical peel her feet.
Why hadn’t she cared about any of this before, when he had her pinned on the bed?
Because he had made her feel.
All. The. Feelings.
Every man who’d touched her paled in comparison. It was like she’d been in this semi-paralyzed state, not able to connect to any of them. She always thought it was the men, but it wasn’t. It was her.
And now she wanted everything she could get.
A sexual image filled her mind, something she’d always wanted to try but feared would leave her disappointed.
But with Shane…
She found her soft, flouncy black skirt. It ended a few inches above her knees and was the kind of skirt she could get away with matching with a tank top, or with a dressy blouse.
This time, on account of the time of year, she matched it with a thin black cardigan.
She skipped the underwear.
And then she hurried back into her room to put some on.
In the middle of coating the chicken, she called herself a chicken and took them back off.
She blew the bangs out of her face and laid the breasts on a cookie sheet before popping them into the oven.
She parboiled the green beans, and then sautéed them with slivered almonds until the almonds roasted to a caramel color.
After lighting the second tapered candle on her little round table, she pulled the chicken out and laid it on the stovetop to cool.
The ringing of the doorbell jangled her nerves in a way it hadn’t all week. She pressed a hand to her belly, as if the very act could calm the leaping frogs that had taken up residence there. Taking a deep breath she opened the door to find Shane on the other side, in jeans and a long-sleeve Henley pulled tight across his hard chest. He held a bouquet of irises in his hand and a smile was on his handsome face.
“Are those to apologize for manhandling me earlier?”
“I’m pretty sure you liked all the ways I manhandled you earlier, so no.” He handed her the flowers and pulled her in for a long, wet kiss that had her rethinking the state of her underwear or lack thereof.
“Mmmm,” she hummed, licking the taste of him from her lips. “You keep doing that and we won’t make it through dinner.”
Just then it struck her what she forgot earlier. “Shit. I forgot about dessert.”
“I already have plans for dessert,” he murmured just before bending down to kiss that soft spot just behind and below the shell of her ear.
She locked her knees to keep from crumpling to the floor. Goosebumps rose on her skin and she shivered.
“We could always come back to the food. Reheat it or something.”
“No, you went through the work and I’m hungry. I’ll be good.”
He took a seat at the table and watched her serve up two plates. She prayed to the god of klutzes to show mercy on her tonight and let her get the food to the table without making a fool of herself.
“This looks amazing. I didn’t realize you could cook.” He dug in, slicing a piece of chicken off the breast and popping it into his mouth. His moan of appreciation melted the tension in her shoulders.
“You really like it?”
“God, yes. I haven’t had a home-cooked meal since—” His eyes met hers. “Sorry,” he muttered.
She choked down her own bite that turned to cardboard in her mouth with his hesitation. “Why are you sorry? You’re allowed to talk about her. I’m not offended or jealous. She was a part of you. Is still a part of you.”
“It’s not awkward?”
“Only your avoidance makes it so. It’s not like she stole you from me. You had already walked away.”
“Ouch.” He took a drink of the beer she had given him.
“Well, I like to give credit where credit is due.”
“I see that.”
“This feels weird, right? This forcing the conversation when I have a feeling we’re both just thinking about one thing.” She tapped her fork on her napkin, unsure what to do with herself.
“What thing is that?”
She pursed her lips. “You know what thing.”
He shook his head and pushed his plate away. “I don’t think I do, but you could show me.”
“How do you suggest I show you this thing?”
He crooked a finger at her and pushed his chair back. “Come here.” He patted his thigh and her mouth went dry.
Every thought fled her lust-flooded brain.
With just that gesture with his finger, he tapped into her fantasy. It was like he knew just what she wanted to do, and gave her permission to go there.
From the moment she locked eyes with his, her body gravitated towards him. She didn’t have to tell her muscles to move, and where. They just knew.
She stopped next to
him, and rested a hand on his shoulder to steady herself on shaking legs.
His fingers glided up her thigh, disappearing under her skirt. “Is this the thing you’re thinking about, Bell?”
She nodded.
“I can’t hear you.”
“Yes,” she whispered.
His hand drifted up higher, over the curve of her naked cheek, the tips of his fingers following along the seam of her ass, setting her aflame.
His blue eyes darkened and narrowed as he curled his hands over her flesh, squeezing. “You’re not wearing underwear.”
“No.”
“Why are you not wearing underwear?” His deep voice rolled over her, igniting her blood. She wanted to feel the rumble of that deep timbre against the inside of her thighs.
“Because I wanted this. I wanted you to feel me under my skirt. I wanted to… umm…”
He raised her skirt, and dragged his tongue over her thigh while looking up at her. “You wanted?”
“To straddle you in the chair.” She closed her eyes, mortified she’d said the words out loud with him looking right at her.
All of a sudden she understood the appeal of doing it in the dark. Everything…do everything in the dark.
Shame had heat rising to her cheeks, and she tried to pull away.
“Uh-uh-uh; where do you think you’re going?” He hooked a hand around each thigh and watched her through slitted eyes. “Stay right here.”
He pushed himself up just enough to unbuckle his jeans and slid them down. “Come here. Let’s cross this one off your list, Bell.”
“Umm…”
He took her wrist in his hand and gave her a gentle tug. “Come on, straddle me.”
The ridge of him lay hard and heavy against his abdomen, just under the edge of his shirt. She found herself wondering if it would have been like this all those years ago. But in the end it didn’t really matter.
She wrapped her legs around him; the feel of his leg hair tickled the inside of her thighs, making her squirm as she lowered her weight onto him. Just sitting.
“See, that wasn’t so hard. And now I have all of this access.” He slowly unbuttoned her sweater almost all the way to the bottom, far enough that the sides fell open, revealing her black lace bra.