“Yeah, that’s good,” she said, laughing a little. Her hands slid up around his neck. “See, you’re a pro.”
“It’s pretty damn easy with you.”
He felt her tense for a fraction of a second before she melted against him. It almost felt real. Nails raked into his hair and then began sliding up the back of his skull. There would be no distraction strong enough to overcome the sensations, especially when the only thought he was capable of having was how good she felt in his arms. If she only knew how many times he’d imagined her just like this. How often he’d watched her across the room during a wedding reception and fantasized about pulling her into an empty alcove and devouring her.
She’s twenty-nine. God, it sounded so young. She was so vivacious and fun. A woman like that had needs and desires. Dreams for the future. He needed to remind himself of that.
Then Charlotte shifted against him, her face tilting toward his. If he lifted his head, they would be nose-to-nose, so he didn’t dare move. “It will be good if we get a variety of looks so … you know, whatever comes to mind that you think would be sexy.”
She laughed softly against his ear, the sound full of uncertainty. Could she feel how close he was to snapping? Was it possible that she wanted him the way he wanted her? Dean cleared his throat and then forced himself to pull back and look at her. Their eyes met and her lips parted the slightest bit.
Here he was, a grown man, in the perfect position to seduce a woman he’d lusted after for years. There would never be an opportunity so perfect, a situation so expertly contrived to give him permission to touch her as he’d always wanted to. Pretend that she was his. It didn’t have to mean anything. He swallowed hard.
“Whatever comes to mind, huh?”
She nodded.
“Sexy is what you’re looking for?” His eyes roamed across her skin, her lips, trying to decide what he should do.
“It is for a romance novel,” she said with a little grin.
He slid his hands—which had been resting on her soft hips up till this point—up her arms and then to her face, cupping it gently. “How sexy are we supposed to get for these shoots?” he whispered.
“Very.” She swallowed, her chin tilting up toward him.
His mouth ached to cover hers. He could nearly taste it, the fruity scent of her shiny lips reaching out and begging him to suck on them. Holding on by a thread, he warred with the temptation and pulled her hair the slightest bit, exposing her neck to him once more. This time, though, he gave the camera what it wanted. Something real.
Opening his mouth over the taut skin of her neck, just above her pulse, Dean let his tongue taste her before pulling his lips together in a light sucking motion. She gasped, her body bowing further, pushing her harder against him. He repeated the action. Then again. Gently he placed openmouthed kisses all over her throat, under her jaw, beneath her ear.
“Oh God…” The breathy exclamation that fell from her lips was not for the camera. It was all for him. Of that he was certain.
Charlotte’s left leg began to shift, her foot slowly snaking up his calf, her opposite hand gripping the back of his head, pulling him harder against her.
He sucked her earlobe past his lips and let one of his hands grip her butt, giving her leverage to lock her leg up over his hip, and in that very moment the air around them shifted. There was no doubt the motion gave her a very obvious idea of what she was doing to him and it had nothing to do with these photos.
Should he stop? Apologize?
He’d wanted to give her a taste of what he could do to her, but now … he wanted to give her more than that. Three years of being professional was long enough.
“Charlotte,” he breathed into her ear.
It was a question. A request for permission. She answered by turning her head, her lips meeting the corner of his mouth. “Dean,” she whispered, and as her lips closed, they caught the corner of his just the slightest bit.
Shit. There was no stopping this. Right or wrong, it didn’t matter. He was no longer capable of thinking through the decision. The softness of her plump mouth meeting his even that small amount was too much to deny.
The request now appeared to be hers, and he gave her what she wanted as her parted lips pushed against the edge of his once more. It took only the slightest movement of his head, and he kissed her.
Finally.
Their first few touches were gentle, their lips exploring, and hesitant, teasing each other. It didn’t take long for them to become bold, needy, and frantic. She tasted like strawberries and mint gum, her lips soft and wet. He sucked the pout of her lower one between his and then chased it with his tongue. Not one to be outdone, Charlotte responded eagerly and let out the faintest whimper.
She broke away just long enough to whisper, “Give me more.”
Goddamn. That was it. The kiss deepened into something so carnal, filthy, and wet, he could barely remain upright. Her body rocked against his, her hands gripping his head, and without hesitation or unlocking their mouths he hauled her up against his body, her legs locking around his waist.
They continued to kiss, her arms going around his neck. This was better than he could have dared to hope. She fit against him like her body was made for it, and all he could think about was how bad he wanted to get her somewhere soft and horizontal, so he could strip off her clothes and have her in every way possible.
Something knocked into his neck. Charlotte broke the kiss and then laughed against his mouth. Dean looked up to find her smiling down at him.
“Sorry, my remote.”
“That’s okay,” he said, his breath short.
They stared at each other for a moment. He still held her in his arms, her feet digging into his ass.
“Wow,” she whispered, leaning her forehead onto his. “That was amazing.”
The look on her face suddenly had him panicking. Now what? “It was. I hope you got what you needed.”
Her lips parted a bit, and she looked surprised. Shit. He didn’t mean to sound cold, but he wasn’t ready to take this to another level. The kiss had been unexpected. Amazing, but now what? That was when he heard the sound of a motor running. Charlotte must have heard it at the same time, both of their heads jerking up to find Booker and his wife staring at them through their windshield a little way down the road. The old man lifted a hand and waved, an obvious smirk on his face even from a distance.
“Oh my God,” Charlotte whispered.
“We gave them quite a show,” Dean said.
Charlotte just laughed and began to slide down his body. Dean panicked. He brought his hands up under her arms and tried to place her away from him. Now that he’d just reminded them both that this was a performance, the last thing he wanted to do was reveal his raging hard-on.
Charlotte waved and then held up a finger to alert the older couple that she just needed a minute. Booker just gave another hand lift in reply.
“Should we look at them quickly?” she asked, her voice bright. Was it a little shaky?
Dean ran a hand through his hair and looked at her flushed cheeks and swollen mouth. Bad idea. God, he was a mess over this woman. One minute he wanted to maintain his distance, the next he hoped she was as on fire as he was. He was a mix of lust and confusion, but obviously now there was no returning to what they’d been doing a moment ago.
“Sure,” he said as he walked over to his discarded T-shirt and pulled it over his head. When he turned back Charlotte had retrieved her camera from the hood of his car and was scrolling through the images on the back screen. He walked over and peeked over her shoulder.
“These are so gorgeous.” She held the camera up so he could see.
The setting was gorgeous, the golden sunlight filtering through the trees lighting the chrome of the motorcycle and the blond in her hair. But that wasn’t the part that held him captivated. It was them, her body straddling his, her thighs squeezing his hips as his palms cupped her behind, their mouths fused together. The pose
, the light … her. All of it was so sexy he couldn’t believe it. Never in his life had he viewed himself entwined with a woman in this way, and he loved it. The only problem with it was that he was the only one half naked, and with that thought he was looking at it in a new way, imagining her supple body in his arms completely bare.
Holding back a groan, he watched as she flipped quickly through the images, making them come to life but in reverse. It was like watching a stop-motion capture of himself making out with Charlotte. What he wouldn’t give to have that on loop for him to watch tonight in bed.
“What do you think?” she asked, turning toward him.
“I think they’re good.”
“They’re more than good. They’re wonderful. You’re amazing.” She stepped closer to him. “I … uh, know you didn’t want to do this, but I’m glad you did.”
Which part was she referring to? The shoot … or the kiss?
“I’m glad, too.” Unable to help himself, he touched her elbow, and a hint of longing showed in her eyes.
What exactly did she want from him? Those kisses had been too hot, too intense, to be simply pretend. But Dean knew as much as he’d enjoyed kissing her, it probably wasn’t best to try it ever again.
“Wonder how much they saw,” Charlotte said tilting her head toward the idling truck.
“They couldn’t have been there more than a couple moments.” Long enough to get an eyeful, that’s for sure, since the two of them had been way too preoccupied to hear the truck pull up.
“Probably not.” She grinned at Dean. “Whatever they saw, I’m sure they loved it.”
What he wanted to know was had she loved it, because he sure as hell had. Way too much.
* * *
The following Sunday morning, Charlotte had a wedding hangover. A very real physical ailment brought on by dehydration, exhaustion, muscle fatigue, and a sort of melancholy that only a single woman could appreciate after watching two people in love say “I do.”
After trying to sleep in for over an hour, she finally dragged herself out of bed, headed to the kitchen, and peered into the refrigerator. Milk, coffee creamer, and spicy pickles. With a shrug she grabbed the spicy pickles and stood at the counter and ate a couple. Nothing like salty food when you’re dehydrated.
After drinking a glass of water and refilling it, Charlotte headed back to her bed and pulled her laptop in front of her. She really needed to go into her office and start culling yesterday’s image files. Three weddings came due in the next two weeks, and she still needed to open the photos of her session with Dean.
For some reason she hadn’t been able to do that. She wasn’t sure why, because she’d flipped through them during the shoot. However, something about opening them up and looking at the way he held and kissed her in full resolution gave her anxiety. As much as she’d thought about that day—and that had been often—there was part of her that almost wished it hadn’t happened. Because what now?
She’d been grateful last night’s wedding hadn’t been at the Stag. A breather had been necessary. How would they act around each other the next time? Unsure of what Dean had been thinking, she’d made a conscious decision to be nonchalant about the whole thing after it happened. Now she wondered if that was a mistake, because she really liked him.
The attraction was there. She knew he was sweet and funny. There was a hesitance on his end, she knew that, but she’d hoped after that kiss he might be closer to taking things to the next level. Maybe ask her out. Or ask to come in when he’d dropped her off at home. But he’d done neither, and his uncertainty had made her overthink the entire thing.
Her phone began singing ABBA’s “Does Your Mother Know,” and Charlotte reached over to her nightstand and picked it up. She debated not answering, then forced herself to just get it over with.
“Hey, Mom.”
“Hi, sweetie. Did I wake you?”
“No, I was up.”
“Oh good. I just had something to discuss with you. I saw Mary Sue Willis yesterday.”
“That’s nice.” Charlotte wasn’t sure why that was news. She’d gone to school with Mary Sue Willis’s daughter Shelby, but the two of them hadn’t really been friends. Friendly, sure. But not close.
“Well, I figured you weren’t aware of it, but … apparently Shelby and Jason Reynolds are getting married in a couple of weeks.”
Oh.
That was interesting news. Jason was John’s older brother.
“Good for them.” Charlotte shifted on the bed, her skin feeling tight all of a sudden.
“I’m sure you don’t love hearing about it, but Jason was always such a sweet boy. And, well … I hate to bring this up, but according to Mary Sue, they’ve run into a problem. She was so upset as she told me, I just immediately knew that even though it may be difficult, you’d want to help.”
Charlotte sat up in bed, her heart picking up speed. Her mother was a do-gooder. If there was a problem, she wanted to be part of the solution. She found her value in that way. Charlotte liked to be helpful also, but she wasn’t nearly as giving with her time as her mom. “Help with what, Mom?”
“Well, she said their photographer canceled on them. Can you imagine such a thing?”
She couldn’t really imagine, as she would never do that to a client. But there were always horror stories. “Why would their photographer cancel?”
“His excuse was that he’d double-booked without realizing. Although Mary Sue suspects there’s more to it. Said he’d become difficult to reach.”
Unprofessional, but she’d almost overbooked once, by accident. But waiting until two weeks from the event to tell your bride was outrageous.
“Now, I told her you’d probably already be booked, but secretly I’m really hoping you can help them.”
“Mom, why? Did you even consider how awkward that would be for me?”
“I know, Charlotte, I really do. But it was five years ago. You’re a successful, strong woman now. It might make you feel amazing to show them how well you’re doing. That it didn’t break you.”
“But … it did break me, Mom.” In ways her mother didn’t even know.
“Charlotte…” her mother whispered. “It broke you for a time, but you’re healed.”
Charlotte knew that a large part of her mother’s “fix-it” and helper mentality was because she just hated for anyone to be unhappy. Because of that, she tended to wear the weight of the world on her shoulders. And although she always had the best intentions, sometimes her loyalties could be a bit misplaced. A big reason Charlotte didn’t always share her woes with her mother.
“You do realize that half of the guests attending would have been invited to my wedding.” Need she remind her mother that those same people would have been the ones showing up to Grace Baptist Church, only to be greeted by her father in the parking lot, alerting them the wedding was no longer on? She could still remember standing in the window of the bride’s dressing room, in her full dress, makeup, and hair, watching him speak to car after car of people. She hadn’t been able to look away. Wondering what their response had been. “What?” “Really?” “Is Charlotte okay?” “Did he meet someone else?”
Finally, her mother had forced her to take off the wedding gown and get dressed so they could leave. There had been no plan for going home that evening. All she could do was lie in her childhood bed and cry. At some point that evening, John’s mother had come over to check on her. While Charlotte had known the woman meant well, nothing could have humiliated her more.
What if they assumed she still pined for John to this day?
“Think of poor Shelby, Charlotte. No photographer two weeks before her wedding.”
Two weeks. Charlotte’s eyes closed as she realized that she did, in fact, have that weekend off. Damn. She could lie. How could they prove otherwise? It was really a miracle she wasn’t booked. But a part of her, deep inside, was a little intrigued by the idea of giving John’s brother the best wedding photos he’d ever s
een. Spending the day acting as though none of it fazed her.
God, she hated that her mother might be a little bit right.
“Where is the wedding?” Charlotte inquired.
“The Methodist church on Newman, and the reception is at that place on the square that makes alcohol.”
Charlotte’s heart skipped. “The Stag?”
“Yes, that’s it. The one with the handsome gentlemen everyone talks about. Would you just consider it? For Mary Sue and Shelby? You’ve been friends for years.”
“Mom, I barely spoke with Shelby in high school.”
“Well, she’s a Maple Springs girl, and so are you. Maybe you’ll meet someone there. How perfect would that be? That would really make him jealous.”
“John would not be the slightest bit jealous. And remember, I go to weddings almost every weekend, and I’ve yet to meet a man while working.”
Well … that wasn’t quite true, but she didn’t feel the need to clarify with her mother.
“I’ll check my schedule just in case they reach out. But I can’t make any promises.” She hadn’t decided what her answer would be yet so she wasn’t ready to let her mother know that she had the date open.
“Thank you, sweetie. I do appreciate it. Mary Sue is such a nice woman.”
Charlotte placated her after that, answering her mother’s questions about if she, herself, was doing okay and eating enough, and if she needed anything. A few moments later and Charlotte ended the call, confused, and with her wedding hangover nowhere near improving.
She hadn’t seen John since the week after their big terrible day. He’d come by to pick up some of his things at her apartment, and bring her some things from his. Thank goodness they hadn’t cohabited before the wedding—that would have been even messier. When he’d stopped by that day, Charlotte had been in shock. The pain of losing him and everything she thought to be true had completely shaken her foundation. He’d made it all worse by informing her that he’d wanted to break it off for almost six months, but hadn’t because she’d found out she was pregnant.
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