Picture This

by T. M. Cromer

  “Why are you staring at my chest?”

  It was his turn to choke. He hadn’t realized he was. “Jesus, I’m sorry. I…”

  “Are you blushing?” she asked incredulously.

  The color on his cheeks deepened.

  “You are!” she said in delight.

  “Are you finished?” His attempt to divert the conversation fell on deaf ears.

  “You are so busted, and you know it.”

  He rose and threw money on the table to cover the check and tip, then hauled her up. “Come on, I want to walk off this meal.”

  She continued to taunt him about his embarrassment, walking backwards in front of him. He found himself laughing right along with her. Hope was impossible to resist when she was being playful.

  “So getting back to this apartment or house of yours…” He lifted a suggestive brow. Since they’d separated earlier in order for her to get cleaned up and meet him at the restaurant, he never did have his curiosity satisfied.

  “Are you saying you want to come over for a nightcap?” The pearly white teeth biting a section of her full lower lip and the twinkle he glimpsed in her eye told him she was receptive to the idea.

  Quick as a cobra, he grabbed her hand, dragged her into the closest alley, and had her against the wall. Her surprise had kicked up her breathing, drawing his attention to that gorgeous chest again. With great effort he tore his gaze away and concentrated on meeting hers. He could get lost in those expressive chocolate eyes forever.

  As his tongue tangled with hers, he caught the flavor of their dessert. He pulled back with a low groan. “I’m thinking we should have gotten a box of those eclairs to take back to your place.”

  “They haven’t closed yet.”

  He sucked in his breath. Was she saying what he thought she was?

  No more words were needed. They each understood what was happening, what they wanted. As one they turned and ran for his hotel. They didn’t slow down through the lobby. He heard her giggle at the stunned reactions of the patrons and staff. She was a wild one, his Hope. It pleased him to know she didn’t care what anyone thought.

  Once in the elevator, she slammed into him, taking him back against the mirrored wall. He winced as he was still bruised from all the contact with bricks, cars and grounds over the past week. The doors whisked open, and they kissed and laughed their way to his room, her hands under his shirt as he struggled to get the key card to work.

  “What the hell,” he muttered as it registered red a third time.

  “Let me.”

  They reversed positions and he couldn’t decide which he preferred, her hands feeling him up or his on her skin. She managed to open the door in one try, so he didn’t have time to contemplate the answer.

  Need for her coiled hard and low in his abdomen and made him desperate. Their clothes were scattered about the place, neither caring where they landed. The two of them tumbled upon the bed, panting and aching for the one thing only the other could provide.

  Royce palmed the breasts he’d been obsessed with since day one, taking his time to pay them their due diligence. She had truly splendid breasts. Firm, high, and made for his mouth. He tasted and teased, eliciting moan after moan. Trailing featherlight kisses down the smooth pane of her stomach, he grinned at her sharp gasp as he plunged two fingers into her warm, moist sheath with no warning. She was more than ready. Using the tip of his soft tongue, he toyed with her nub while thrusting in and out, taking care to target her g-spot.

  Her first orgasm hit hard and fast, and Royce smiled as she ground her hips up against his face.

  “Now,” she panted, dragging him up by his hair to cover the full length of her body. “I need you now.”

  A few precious seconds later, condom in place, he entered her to the hilt. Her whimper was of pure pleasure.

  “Harder,” she ordered, gripping the cheeks of his ass and assisting his next thrust. “Harder, harder, harder.”

  Not one to argue when he was getting exactly what he wished for, he complied. Together they crested, and he cut her scream off with his mouth on hers. Tasting her was necessary to his existence.

  For the longest time, he lay there, unable to move off her. Completely spent. Their bodies slick with sweat.

  “Should I apologize for how quick that was?”

  “Are you kidding me,” she asked in disbelief.

  He chuckled and dropped a kiss on her temple. “Shower?”

  “Mmhmm. I just need a minute to recover.” She nipped the lobe of his ear and fell back on the bed. “My legs are jelly.”

  “Your legs are amazing.”

  She giggled and wrapped her incredible legs around his waist, holding him to her and rocking her hips against him.

  “I bet if you call room service, they can get us some of those eclairs,” she suggested with a challenging brow.

  “Woman, I love the way you think.”

  Royce stretched for the hotel phone to dial the front desk.

  Chapter 7

  “Your brother hates me,” Royce said, trailing his fingertips down Hope’s bare stomach.

  She snorted. “Seriously? You’re bringing up Val while we’re naked? Can you get any more creepy?”

  “Valid point,” he acknowledged.

  “Besides, why do you care? It’s not like you have much to do with him,” she pointed out. “Technically, all contracts are with my mother, and I’m in charge of seeing the ad campaign through to completion.”

  “I don’t know. I guess I’m not thrilled with being on the receiving end of his cold stare on a daily basis. Talk about the old adage ‘If looks could kill.’” He frowned, distracted by the invisible patterns his fingers drew. “I don’t have anyone who will miss me if I disappear one day out of the blue.”

  “I’ll miss you.”

  The thought made him happier than it should have for only seven days acquaintance. “Well I suppose that’s something.” He rolled on top of her, careful to brace his weight on his elbows so as not to crush her. Level with her chest, he bent to place a light kiss on one breast before devoting more attention on the other. Her laughter could be felt and it made him smile.

  “Want to go to a movie tonight,” she asked. The catch to her voice spoke clearly of her desire.

  “No.”

  “No? Why not?”

  She half sat, and he got a face full of cushy boob. And while normally he wouldn’t complain about a face full of tata, the abruptness of the gesture had his head snapping back. Before this trip was over, he was certain to end up in traction.

  “Because prior to the black eye and whiplash from your girls just now, I wanted to spend the evening making love with you,” he said matter of factly.

  “Three times isn’t enough in one twenty-four hour period?” she teased, trailing her soft hand down to where his dick was rock hard for what seemed like the millionth time that day.

  “If this is what the rest of our relationship is going to be like, with you limiting sex, we need to call it quits,” he said with mock seriousness.

  “Not on your life,” she growled and took charge.

  ***

  The next four days continued in this vein, with Hope and Royce spending nearly every waking minute together. They shared meals, hammered out details for the commercial ads, and picked over the photos of Val and Ashley, looking for something they could use for the Fiore Vineyard catalog. As time went on, they were able to catch Val in more natural positions with softer expressions. Some of Hope’s own shots captured the two models sharing a laugh, making for a great print.

  When they thought no one was looking, Hope and Royce exchanged sexually charged looks and passing caresses. A pat to the bottom, a brush of a breast, a kiss on the nape - they couldn’t seem to get enough of one another. They were so in sync in every way that Hope started to imagine he was the one.

  She’d never been in love, but she imagined this bubble of happiness when he stepped into the room might be a clear indication some
thing more was happening here. Infatuation couldn’t be this strong. It couldn’t explain away the caring what he thought, or desiring his happiness above her own. Could it?

  Eleven days. Was that too little a time to truly know someone? Though they never discussed feelings, she wasn’t naive enough to think it was all one-sided. Not with the way his eyes followed her around a room, or his inability to keep his hands to himself. It had to be more than just sex on his part. Didn’t it?

  Ugh! She was worse than a school girl in the throws of her first crush. How did people handle this crap? It was the primary reason why she’d refused to get involved before now. All these damn questions tore at her mind, making her mental when she should be concentrating on more important matters.

  But in the dead of night, when he was sleeping beside her, sometimes she would watch him and fantasize about building a life with him. She wouldn’t admit to picking out children’s names if pressed, but if she pictured a little boy with his eyes and devilish grin, could that be helped?

  Maybe she should talk to Tony. He’d fallen in love and married. Granted that marriage died a painful death. What Fiore relationship didn’t? But still, he’d taken a chance on someone, knowing the odds weren’t in his favor. Some strong emotion or indication that it might’ve worked out had to have made him do that, right?

  “What has you so troubled?”

  Royce surprised her with a quick, light kiss and a bouquet of yellow daffodils. Her heart melted at his thoughtfulness. At some point in passing, she’d mentioned she liked those better than roses and he’d remembered. Crap. She was in trouble.

  “Nothing. I…” She trailed off, unable to tell him she’d been thinking of their relationship. They’d only been seeing each other for the better part of eleven days, and to dump all this on him, to start questioning where they were going so early on, was most likely a recipe for disaster.

  Unexpected tears hit. Hope was at a loss as to what exactly caused them or how to be rid of them.

  “Hey. What’s this, babe?” He gathered her close and the comfort of his warm embrace centered her again.

  “Nothing. I’m being a stupid girl,” she muttered.

  “I have no complaints about you being a girl.”

  She snorted her laughter. He always came up with the perfect words to keep her emotions in check.

  “So is this one of those moments I should take your words at face value? Like if you say fine, you mean all is good, or is it the kind of fine that I should run for my life because you’re really pissed and ready to rip my head off?”

  “Probably a mix of the two. But I promise, you’re safe.”

  “Fair enough. I don’t want to come across as an insensitive jerk.”

  She held up the flowers. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

  He leaned in for a longer kiss, exploring her mouth in a leisurely manner, as if he had all day.

  “What are we doing for dinner tonight?”

  “All you think about is your stomach.”

  He pressed against her, making his desire known. “Not all.”

  “Horn dog.”

  “You know it,” he whispered against her lips, diving in for another taste.

  When they separated, her respiratory system was nearing distress level. One where the drawing in of massive amounts of oxygen became a necessity. Damn, the man might be detrimental to her health. “I’ll cook for you tonight.”

  “You cook?”

  His astonishment had her irritation spiking to higher than normal. “Dude, seriously?”

  “Sorry. We’ve always eaten out, and I have yet to see your house. I assumed you weren’t much of a housekeeper.”

  Now she was full on angry. She was the most organized person of all her acquaintances. With a fling of her arm to encompass her pristine office, she asked, “What is it about me that makes you think I’m a slob?”

  He froze in place, like a wild animal sensing danger. “Uh, nothing?”

  “Pfft.”

  And with that, she left him standing there. Who the hell did he think he was anyway? As if she hadn’t been in his room, where he tossed things willy-nilly. Of course, in fairness to him, they were usually ripping each other’s clothes off. It wasn’t as if they stopped to neatly fold articles of clothing and set them on the end of the bed. No, they were too busy getting their freak on.

  She got ten paces away before she stormed back to yell, “I’m a damned good cook, too.”

  “Oh-kayyy,” he drew it out like she was mentally unstable.

  Hope gave him the Italian salute and stormed out of her office.

  “Does that mean you aren’t cooking me dinner tonight?” he hollered from the office doorway.

  Her frustrated scream echoed around the courtyard.

  ***

  Hope sat on her leather sofa, wine glass in hand, staring at the pattern on her old Victorian ceiling. When she’d refurbished it, she’d hit up the local historical society and gathered every scrap of information they’d had. Her goal had been to replicate the original design as much as humanly possible. She loved her house. Everything about it made her happy. Normally.

  Tonight was the first night in the last week and a half that she’d spent more than a hour at home. While she’d always given a sigh of relief upon escaping the noise that was her family and stepping through her front door, right now the silence was getting to her. Was making her anxious and out of sorts.

  This beautiful old place was made for a family. Something she predicted she’d never have. The only guy to ever float her boat was Royce, and since they were wrapping up the final commercial this week, his job here was essentially done. That meant he’d be heading home. All her daydreaming of a husband with little rugrats would come to an abrupt end.

  She rose and went to the island in her kitchen to refill her glass. Her eyes wandered the clean lines of granite counters and glossy appliances. This had been the only room she’d modernized. She snorted when she recalled Royce’s earlier amazement at her offer to cook. He’d really be surprised to know she excelled at gourmet entrees and French pastries.

  Thoughts of Royce brought up regret for her earlier behavior. Perhaps she should apologize for her moodiness. She decided she’d send him a text in the morning.

  A knock sounded at her front door. A quick glance at her antique grandfather clock showed it to be well past midnight. She made her way to the foyer and flipped on the outside light. Peeking through the side window showed a tired, solemn Royce.

  As if he sensed her regard, he shifted and met her eyes through the glass. No words, no tentative smile, just a meaningful stare, compelling her to let him in. With great difficulty, she broke free of his hypnotic gaze and swung the door wide. She didn’t wait for him to enter. Hope left him there to come or go, whichever he chose to do, and went back to sit on the sofa.

  The soft click of the door, followed by the deadbolt falling into place, opened up the tightness in her chest. He planned to stay the night. He wasn’t here to tell her she was nuts or that they were over.

  The sound of cabinets being opened and closed, followed by the clink of a glass on the counter, had a small smile forming. Wordlessly, he joined her on the couch, interlacing their fingers as he took a sip of wine. Emotion clogged her throat and moisture burned her eyes.

  This was what she wanted. This silent understanding. The unnecessary apology. Although, she did need to verbalize one for her own peace of mind.

  “I’m sorry I was such a bitch…”

  “I’m sorry I was such a bastard…”

  They spoke simultaneously, shared a wry glance, and then laughed. And as suddenly as that, all was forgiven on both sides.

  Hope rested her head on his shoulder. Content.

  “Want to talk about what set you off today?” he asked softly, staring into the flames crackling in the fireplace.

  “I don’t know if I can explain it to myself, much less put it into words…” She trailed off with a shrug. Maybe sh
e could blame PMS. Didn’t all guys accept that and move on?

  “You know I never meant to imply that you were lacking in any way, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “We good?”

  “Yes.”

  They shared a comfortable silence for a while before it occurred to Hope to wonder how he’d discovered her address.

  “Who told you where I lived?”

  “Your mother.”

  She sat up and eyed him in disbelief. “My mother?”

  “Yep,” he confirmed with a laugh.

  “Hmm. I would have thought Tony would be the fink.”

  “Are you calling your mother a fink? Ohhh, she is going to be so maaaddddd,” he teased.

  “Don’t you dare tell her,” she warned. “They’ll never find your body.”

  “Can I just say, you terrify me?”

  Her laughter rang out, and she stood, holding out her hand, an invitation. “Come on, Romeo, let’s go to bed.”

  They were halfway up the stairs when another thought took hold. She paused in her ascent and spun back to where he stood one step below. “Exactly when did you talk to my mother?”

  “Right after you left the office.”

  “That was six hours ago.”

  “Your point?

  “Why did you wait until after midnight to come by?”

  “I was going to leave you alone tonight. I thought you might need space. That maybe I was crowding you.” He paused and sighed. “As I laid in my bed, tossing and turning, I realized I couldn’t sleep. I’ve become used to you curled up against me, hogging all the blankets. It doesn’t feel natural with you here and me there.”

  Heart full, Hope took him by the hand and led him to her room. It wasn’t until two days later that the bottom fell out of her world.

  Chapter 8

  Two days later…

  That Sunday, Royce did it up big. He picked her up and drove her to an exclusive restaurant in San Francisco for the midday meal. After lunch, they took their time doing the tourist thing. Even though Hope had visited the Bay Area before, seeing it through new eyes was fun and interesting. They meandered their way back up the coast, taking their time returning to St. Helena. Over dinner they laughed and fed each other from their plates. To have strangers stop and wish them well in their new life together, believing they were on their honeymoon, had the two of them sharing secret smiles.