“Of course it wasn’t a secret, Reagan. But it’s one thing to know about it, its another to see it.”
I smiled softly at him. “Does it bother me? I would be lying if I said it didn’t. Do I think what you did with that shoot was beautiful? Absolutely. Do I wish I had her body? Hell yes.” Coen made a face, but I kept going. “Would I ever ask you to stop doing those shoots? No.”
“Where did you come from?” he muttered.
“The way I see it, you were doing these long before we started seeing each other. So I know that if there was something to be worried about with these shoots, then it would have been going on even back then, and we would have never started dating.”
Coen stared at me in awe for a few seconds without saying anything. Just before I asked if he was okay, he asked, “Can I pull a Parker?”
“A Parker?”
“You, Duchess, are the coolest.”
I laughed loudly before turning back around in the chair to face the laptop. “Can I see more?”
He stepped up behind me and kissed the top of my head as he clicked through his files to where all his shoots were. “Knock yourself out. If you don’t want to stay through the whole shoot, I’ll call you when I’m done, all right?”
I nodded and tilted my head to the side when he brushed his lips against my neck, and shamelessly watched as he set up his studio. But by the time his client got there, I’d barely spared the guy a glance before getting caught up in the thousands upon thousands of pictures on Coen’s laptop.
There were some more like the first one I’d looked through. Some couple shots and weddings. The ones of the guy when I’d first come to the studio, and a lot of this guy I was having trouble figuring out if he was a firefighter, model, or fitness athlete. Then there were the more artistic ones, where every new set had me leaning closer to the laptop, and falling more in love with Coen’s style.
Clicking on the last file, labeled “bullshit,” my eyebrows rose and eyes darted to Coen before quickly going back to the screen. My mouth slowly fell open as I clicked through picture after picture of Coen. It was at probably the twelfth photo that my eyebrows dropped and pinched together, before I rapidly clicked back to the beginning and started over again, this time going through faster.
Sitting back in the chair, I folded my arms over my chest and angled my head to the side as I stared at the picture of him filling the screen. I don’t know how many pictures I’d finally gone through of him before stopping. Close to one hundred? Every one of them had been amazing, or funny, or artsy, or just sexy as sin. But that’s not why I couldn’t go through any more. I couldn’t go through any more because in every single picture, Coen’s face was somehow covered. Either by a shadow, glasses, mask, hat, cameras, paint . . . something. There wasn’t one that was just him.
“I didn’t think you’d sta—find the lame folder.”
Looking up at him, I pointed to the screen. “Do you have an issue with your face?”
He looked at me like I was losing it before laughing awkwardly. “Uh. What?”
“Your face”—sitting back up, I pushed down the left arrow and let it flip through the pictures—“is covered in every single one of these pictures. Why?”
“I don’t know, I like being weird? Or going for that artsy shit.”
“You sure that’s it?”
Coen shook his head slowly, like he didn’t know what other answer I could possibly be expecting. “I’m pretty sure. I mean, you’ve seen my face. If I had an issue with it, I wouldn’t let you see it.”
“Exactly,” I whispered when I looked back at the screen.
“I don’t know what you’re getting at, babe.”
I took a deep breath in before looking at him. “All those pictures—and there’s a lot of them—were taken in the last couple years.”
“Yeah . . . ?”
“Whatever happened for you to have your demons, when did it happen?”
Coen straightened and continued to stare at me without responding.
“Was it before—”
“There were missions throughout the last five years, it’s from all of them.”
“The main thing,” I pressed. “There has to be something crucial that happened. I don’t doubt there was bad shit every time you were sent somewhere. But I also don’t doubt there was something huge that is tormenting you.” When I realized he wasn’t going to answer, and that I’d probably asked way too much of him, I clicked out of the pictures and curled in on myself. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“Two and a half years ago.”
I looked up into his haunted eyes, and ached to help him somehow.
“It was two and a half years ago. About four or five months before any of those pictures of me. I, uh, deleted all the pictures of me from before that time.”
I just nodded when his eyes focused back on me. That’s what I’d been worried about. Not that the pictures of him weren’t incredible, but somehow, I’d known. Coen was always, even subconsciously, hiding the place where his demons resided.
“Come here,” Coen said suddenly.
I shot him a look but gave him my hand to pull me up.
“Follow me.”
“Okay . . .” The word trailed off as Coen pulled his shirt over his head, and continued walking toward where all the equipment was set up.
Flipping off a few things, and switching others on, he moved his camera and played with it for a while before coming back over to me.
“You ready?”
“Um, I’m actually kind of lost right now. You took off your shirt and I started staring, and then you were playing with everything . . .”
He grinned before grabbing the bottom of my shirt, and slowly pulled it off my body.
“What are you—”
“I’m showing my girlfriend that she’s more beautiful than any of the girls she saw in those photos. I’m about to do my first shoot with someone. And if anything will be covering my face, it will be some part of you.” Unclasping my bra, he slid the straps down my arms before letting it drop to the floor.
“Coen,” I said breathlessly, my lips pulling into a grin. I knew he was distracting me, I knew he was distracting himself . . . but I didn’t care. I loved that he was doing this.
“And, besides, that bed and couch are both new. I knew if I ever wanted you on anything in this studio, I didn’t want it to have been touched before or to have any memories tied to it. They were delivered yesterday . . . so I think we should break them in, what about you?”
I smiled and leaned up to capture his bottom lip between my teeth. “My parents can’t see these pictures.”
He laughed. “Or your brother.”
We started standing. Both keeping only our jeans on as we posed chest to chest, his chest to my back with his tattooed arms covering my breasts, and me behind him—clinging to his body. Then he moved me so my back was against the wall, legs around his hips, chests flush as he tortured my lips with teasing bites.
By the time he released my legs, and began unbuttoning my jeans, I’d forgotten we were doing this in front of his camera.
He finished pulling my jeans off before walking us toward the large bed and getting us both on top of it. Holding his body over mine, I ran my hands over the hard muscles in his arms and hiked one bare leg up around his hip. It wasn’t until the flash that I realized why he’d been slowly moving my arm until it was covering my exposed breasts, or why he’d continued nudging my head back with his nose to hang off the side of the bed. Through this slow-building, erotic type of foreplay we’d started on, he was still positioning us, still making sure I was somehow covered, and, I’m sure, still making it all look effortless.
Because with him, it was.
And it was soon after, when he pulled off my underwear, and allowed me to rid him of his
jeans and boxer briefs as he tossed aside the remote for the camera, that I realized I was no longer okay with not having a forever with Coen Steele. As he slowly made love to me on that bed, I knew that I’d fallen in love with him, and anything less than forever wouldn’t be enough.
Chapter Nine
Coen—September 25, 2010
KNOCKING QUICKLY ON Reagan’s door, I glanced at my car and blew out a quick breath before facing the door again right before it was flung open.
“Coen!”
“What’s up, bud?” Grabbing under Parker’s arms, I lifted him into a hug before throwing him over my shoulder.
He laughed wildly and slapped on my back. “Hey, I thought you weren’t strong!”
“I’m not.” I gasped, and stopped walking. Letting my legs shake a little, I acted like my knees were buckling under his weight. “You’re too heavy for me.”
“No, I’m not!” he squealed.
“Either we’re both going down, or just you.”
“Both!”
Letting him slide forward on my shoulder a little bit, I gasped and pretended to struggle. “I can’t keep you up—I can’t.” Sliding him the rest of the way off, I swung him down, acting like I just barely caught him before his head hit the floor.
His laughter filled the entire apartment before he lifted his head and slapped on my forearms. “Do it again.”
I widened my eyes, and let my face fall. “I can’t . . . you’re still . . . too . . . heavy,” I grunted out each word as I let him slip down onto the carpet an inch at a time. Once he was on the floor, I doubled over, breathing heavily.
Parker jumped up and tackled me onto the ground. “You’re weak, Coen, you shoulda eaten your food growing up.”
I smiled over at him. “Shoulda. How was school yesterday?”
“It was cool.”
“You and Jason still best friends?”
“Yep.”
“Girls still have cooties?”
Parker’s eyes widened, and he stopped where he’d been tracing one of the stars on my forearm. “Yeah,” he said softly. Like I should have known his answer wouldn’t have changed in a day. But with six-year-olds, you never knew. He and Jason decided they hated each other and were back to best friends twice in one day.
Holding up my fist for him to bump, I ruffled his hair and stood up. “Sounds like your world is still pretty perfect then, bud. Come on, let’s go see what’s taking your mom—” I cut off and froze when I saw Reagan standing there. She looked beautiful. Clearing my throat, I licked my lips and finished my sentence. “So long.”
Raising an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugged at her full lips before she pushed off the wall to walk toward us. “Take me so long, huh? I’ve been ready.”
Pulling her into my arms, I pressed a kiss to her forehead. “You look beautiful.”
Her smirk widened into a smile. “Thank you, are you going to tell me what we’re doing today?”
“Are you going to tell me how long you were standing there?”
“Long enough.”
I considered her answer and narrowed my eyes at her. “Yeah, still not telling you where we’re going. But we need to go.”
“Fine, fine. Parker, you ready?” she asked as she pulled away from me.
When she grabbed her purse and keys, I rubbed at the back of my neck and sucked in a deep breath. “Can I drive?” I asked, and I’m pretty sure I held my breath as I waited for her answer.
Her brow furrowed. “You want to drive my car?”
“No, uh . . . can I drive us in my car?”
“Um, yeah, I guess. We just have to move the booster seat first.”
“I kinda bought one,” I said tightly. It felt like I broke out in a cold sweat as I waited for her to freak out. To say this was moving too fast. For us to have the argument we’d somehow avoided for a couple weeks, again.
Reagan’s eyes widened and mouth opened slowly. “You bought a booster seat for your car?” she asked softly.
“Yeah, but if it bothers you—”
I don’t know what happened first, it seemed to all happen at once. Her purse and keys dropped to the floor, her hazel eyes filled with tears, and she launched her small body at me—wrapping her arms tightly around my waist.
“You didn’t have to do that,” she said against my chest.
“Actually, I did.” Running my hand over her long hair, I waited until she looked up at me again. “I couldn’t drive you two anywhere unless we moved your booster seat. It was stupid. I need to be able to drive him without having to inconvenience you. This was necessary for us.”
Her head shook slowly back and forth, and she huffed softly. “I—” She cut off quickly and cleared her throat. “Thank you. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
Pushing back the hair from her face, I cupped her cheek and kissed her slowly. “I think I have an idea.”
There was a loud, exaggerated sigh next to us. “Are we going?”
Reagan and I both laughed and looked at Parker. “Yeah, bud, let’s go.” Grabbing Reagan’s purse and keys, I handed them back to her and led them out the door. As we walked to my car, I nudged her shoulder. “Hey, Duchess.”
“Hmm?”
Hooking my arm around her neck, I pressed my lips close to her ear and whispered, “Do you realize you took my compliment back there? Pretty sure that’s a first.”
Her face scrunched together as she thought for a moment before she rolled her eyes, scoffed, and pushed me away. “And I’m pretty sure you’re still delusional.”
Looking at my girl as she put Parker in the back seat of my car, I shook my head. “No. Definitely not that.”
“WE’RE GOING TO the park?” Reagan asked a few minutes later. “Why’d you have us dress nice if we were going here?”
I bit back a smile and turned to go around to a different side. “You’ll see.”
“Are we gonna play?” Coen asked from the backseat.
“Not today, bud. I have something else in mind. But when we’re done, I’ll take you wherever you want for lunch. How’s that sound?”
“Cool!”
I smiled over at Reagan, and we both mouthed, “Cool.”
“I don’t think I’ve been to this side,” she mumbled, and grabbed the ends of her hair.
Grabbing for her hands, I pulled them away and wrapped my fingers securely around them. “So . . . our impromptu shoot last week gave me an idea.” Glancing at her, I watched as her cheeks stained with heat.
“W-what, uh, what kind of idea?” she stammered.
As soon as I stopped the car, I pointed out her window. “It’s over there.”
Her brow scrunched together for a few seconds. “Is that . . . ?”
“My equipment? Yeah.”
She turned quickly, her face lit up with excitement. “You’re going to shoot us?”
“You’re going to shoot us?” Parker asked loudly, horror lacing his tone.
I barked a laugh before I could compose myself. “No way, bud. Not like that. I’m going to take pictures of you and your mom. Its called a photo shoot, that’s the kind of shoot she meant.”
A relieved look crossed his face. “Oh. Cool.”
Looking back at Reagan, I leaned close. “Is that okay?”
“More than okay.” Taking off her seat belt, she opened her door and stepped out before leaning back in. “I do love when you surprise me, Coen Steele.”
I just plain loved her.
Getting out of the car, I pulled my camera out of the trunk, and walked over to where Reagan and Parker were waiting for me. “Ready?”
Parker grabbed my hand and nodded hard once. “Ready!”
My chest tightened and I looked at Parker before looking up at Reagan. A soft smile was slowly covering her face as her eye
s stayed glued to our hands, and just before she began walking, her hazel eyes met mine and I knew she was feeling this too. She loved me, I had no doubt of that. But it wasn’t just the two of us, my love went so much deeper than just Reagan. I loved her son, and I loved the three of us together. And from the look she’d just given me, I knew she felt the same.
We walked up to the hill I’d had two of my friends set up my equipment on, and after introducing them to Reagan and Parker, we got started. Parker wasn’t into it at first because he was still afraid someone was going to shoot him, so after having one of my buddies take pictures of Parker and me flexing, and fighting with imaginary light sabers, then a few of Reagan and me together, he was more than ready for his turn to take pictures with his mom—which he let us know by jumping into the pictures of us.
And as I stared at the two of them from behind the lens of my camera, a feeling unlike anything I’d ever experienced washed over me. It was calming, freeing, and I knew I would do anything to make it last. Parker laughed loudly at something Reagan said to him as I changed the setting on my camera, and the sound filled me—making me smile. I quickly captured the moment before it could end, and finally realized what the feeling was.
Peace.
Reagan—October 1, 2010
CRACKING MY EYES open, I frowned when I saw what time it was. I had thirty minutes before I had to get Parker up and ready for school. Which meant twenty-nine minutes before the warm body wrapped around mine would leave. At least it was the first Friday of the month, which meant we would be spending the day together . . . but I hated watching him leave in the mornings.
Rolling over, I curled up against his bare chest and placed soft kisses there as I let my free hand lightly trail up his back. Goose bumps covered his skin, and I smiled before moving up to his throat and jaw.
His chest rumbled. “Duchess.”
“Morning,” I said softly, and waited for what I knew would come next.
“Time?”
“Six.”
Coen breathed in deeply through his nose, and a smile crossed his face. “Amazing,” he murmured, and tightened his arms around me.
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