by Dawn Atkins
“The best part is you don’t have to please anyone but yourself,” he continued. “You take the shots you want the way you want them.”
“Not like with portraits, huh?” she said. “Pleasing the client is the whole point of a studio.”
“Outdoor work isn’t so invasive. I’ll never get used to staring into people’s hearts like that. Seeing their sadness, their fear, their hopes.” He shuddered in pretend agony.
“But that’s why they come to us—so we can see them as they really are—and capture them on film. That’s what I love.”
“Yeah. I get that about you.”
“Feeling how you feel, Rick, it seems odd that you’d want this job. I thought that from the first day.”
“I’m learning…like I said. I wanted to learn from you.” There was that flicker in his face again, like he was hiding something from her. His green eyes went opaque, like a light doused, and his emotions shut down like blinds dropped hard.
“Do I make you nervous? Asking questions?”
“Not really. You make me think.”
But it was more than that, she could tell. Energy changed between them, shifted, like the clouds easing by overhead, the leaves shivering in the whispering breeze. She had to push. She had to have more. “So what do I make you think about?”
“About who I am, what I’m doing, I guess.”
And what are you doing? What do you want to do?
She wanted to get naked. Still. Would it ever stop?
“Cumulus…with an undercoat of nimbus,” he murmured, looking past her. He’d made it sound like a sex act.
She turned to see a pile of clouds as fluffy as mashed potatoes with dark streaks beneath.
“Rain’s on the way. Maybe by tonight.”
“So, you’re a meteorologist, too?” she said.
“I have to know my palette—sunlight and cloud cover.”
“You do know clouds, that’s for sure. That shot of the gold-blasted ones in your portfolio made me melt.”
“Don’t say melt,” he said, pushing up on his elbow to look down at her. “I’ve seen you do that.”
Arousal surged through her. “You made me do that.” For an instant, she thought he might kiss her. Instead, he pushed her hair away from her cheek.
The breeze blew across her face and she realized she smelled faintly of dirt. “No bees will chase me now. I smell like the creek.”
“No you don’t.” He dipped his nose into her hair and breathed in. “You smell like you always do.”
“Were you smelling my hair when we took those shots of Verde Valley?”
He chuckled. “You got me. I couldn’t resist. I can’t tell if it’s your shampoo or your hair or your perfume or just your skin. You just smell…great.”
“I like how you smell, too. And I love your eyes. They’re the exact color of the moss up here, did you know that?”
“I didn’t.”
“But they change color, too. From moss to emerald to olive-green.”
“Your eyes are so blue they almost hurt to look at.”
“Really?”
“Oh, yeah.” He studied her. “That pillow didn’t come close to the color.” He slid his gaze away and it seemed to snag on her arm. “Mosquito bites,” he said frowning, counting down her arm with a gentle finger. “Two…three…four.”
“They’re all over.” She held up her other arm for his count, his tickling finger, which she wanted to keep counting down her body.
“I should have thought of repellant. Mosquitoes don’t usually bother with me. Hang on. I’ll be right back.”
She lay back, eyes closed, waiting for her man to return to her. With a healing herb? Or maybe a flower for her hair? She heard his footsteps, felt him crouch beside her, then something clammy smacked her thigh.
“Hey!” She sat up. He’d slapped mud on two of her bites. Smack. More mud. “Cut that out!”
“It’s a poultice. It’ll draw out toxins.”
“It’s mud and it’ll make a mess.” She grabbed some from her thigh and tossed it at his chest.
“Hey…I don’t have any bites.” He gripped her wrists and wrestled her to the blanket, looking down at her as though he wanted to just take her. His moss-green eyes lit with emerald fire.
Go for it. She liked feeling captured by him, wanted his mouth on her, his thighs trapping hers.
But he backed off, released her hands and rolled onto his side, bracing his face in a palm. “Sorry I got you all bit up.”
“It was worth it. To get to know you better.”
“I guess that’s good.” But he didn’t seem so sure.
“Of course it is. It’s great.” She would not let him withdraw again. “Tell me more. Tell me a secret, Rick, and I’ll tell you one.”
“A secret?” He frowned.
“Nothing big. Just a little thing I’d love to know about you.” She watched him start to object. “Here’s mine. Remember that photo you took of me on the chaise? I framed a print of it and put it by my bed.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“Yeah. To motivate myself to keep striving.”
“What’s wrong with who you are now?”
She blinked, startled by his question, and a truth pushed through. “If I don’t keep trying, I’m afraid I’ll just settle. Be ordinary.”
“You could never be ordinary, Samantha. You are amazing.” The look on his face warmed her like a sudden smile after deep sorrow.
“Now it’s your turn,” she said, sensing a shift between them. “What’s your secret, Rick?”
She placed her hand on his bare forearm, relishing the quiver of muscle there. These very muscles could wrap around her so tightly she’d have trouble drawing a breath. She wanted that so much. Her whole plan for the day had gone up in smoke. Now that she knew him better, she wanted him more, not less.
“Okay,” Rick said. “Here it is. I’ve never wanted a woman as much as I want you right now.”
His gaze seared through her, white-hot and demanding.
Then take me. The words rose in her mind, but she couldn’t say them. The next move was Rick’s.
She held her breath, trembling like the leaves overhead, and watched Rick decide.
12
TAKE ME. Rick read Samantha’s desire in her eyes, which had gone from clear blue to as smoky as a hot spring. Her lips parted, her tongue traced the inside of her bottom lip and her body trembled beneath his.
She plain glowed, as she had in the shot he’d taken of her in the studio. She was right about that double image that appeared when you captured the person entirely.
He’d never known a woman quite like her. Sweet and shy and eager and bold all at once.
Make love to her.
He wanted to. More than anything, he wanted to bury himself in her lush body, her smart mind, her lively soul. Maybe then he’d be able to think straight enough to do his job.
It’s not about the job. You plain want her.
The truth was a gut punch he had no choice but to acknowledge. He took in the sight of her, the way she trembled, and panted, and how her smell mixed with the scent of soil and green things and water in some exotic opium that soaked in deep, making him drunk with it.
And just like that his double life melted away and he was simply Rick West with a woman he was falling for. The instant he lowered his mouth to hers, all the rules, the straight lines he hung on to, went fuzzy and soft and he had to have her.
Samantha kissed back, her tongue insistent, tangling with his. She shoved her fingers into his hair and gripped his skull as if she feared he’d quit on her.
He felt like laughing because he wasn’t about to stop. Not now. This felt too right out under the open skies he loved.
Was he slipping into old habits, when he selfishly went for whatever he wanted, screw the consequences, the way Brian had lived? A warning slammed through him, but he ignored it in favor of the wonder of Samantha’s mouth, the give of her body, his conviction that this t
ime he’d get inside. All the way.
Bracing himself on his elbows, he cupped her breasts. They felt good through the soft cloth, but he wanted her naked, so he pushed up on her shirt.
She sat up and took over, whipping off the tank top. Her creamy breasts peeked above a bra, which she unclipped and flung onto the blanket, looking simultaneously like she wanted to stick out her chest in pride and cross her arms over them in modesty.
“You’re beautiful,” he said simply and wrapped his palms around the lush flesh she offered him.
“Oh. That feels so good.” She leaned her head back, pushed her breasts into his hands and closed her eyes.
He ran his thumbs over her nipples, liking how they shrank to needy buds so fast. Was she wet between the legs? He’d tasted her there and wanted to again. And he wanted inside her. To take her from above. To lie beneath her rocking body. To thrust into her from the side and behind, and every way there was to be with a woman.
For now he settled for taking a nipple deep into his mouth, the way he knew she liked it.
She gasped and her body shook so badly, he stopped and wrapped her in his arms, steadying her. He felt her heart pounding so hard and her ribs swelled and receded in a panicked hunt for oxygen.
What about protection? He hadn’t thought of that. “I think I have a condom…in my wallet,” he said. God, he hoped so.
“Oh, yes.” She leaned back, her eyes wide. “I forgot. I’m on the pill though. If you’re safe?”
“I’m good. Safe, I mean.”
They didn’t have to stop. Thank God.
“Good. Because I want to feel all of you,” she said, her eyes a sharp blue sting of heat.
“And I want in,” he said. Desire roared through him like the Firebird on a straight stretch, fast and hard, hot and furious. Forgetting grace and slow care, he went for her shorts, flipping open the clasp, yanking down the zipper.
She lifted her ass so he could get the damn things off and he tried not to scrape her skin in his rush to get her naked and in his hands.
He made short work of his own clothes, too, then moved to take her down to the blanket.
She stopped him with a hand on his arm and stared deliberately at his cock, her pupils flaring. She reached out a sweet hand and clasped him, sliding her fingers up and down.
“That’s good,” he said, rocking into her palm, holding himself back, needing to make sure she had full pleasure first.
He lowered her to the blanket while she stroked him with her fingers, cupping his balls with the other hand.
He looked down at her, lust pounding through him, his restraint all but gone. Easy. Take your time. Make it good for her. When had he ever wanted a woman so much?
“I want to touch you,” he said, taking her fingers from his cock and putting her hands around his neck, needing to slow it down so he could take care of her right. He slid his hand up her thigh and she spread her legs for him the way she had on that bench in the studio.
“Please. Touch me,” she breathed and he dipped his fingers where she was swollen and so wet. “Yes, like that. I like that.” Her eyes rolled back and she relaxed into what he was doing. She trusted him and that made him want to please and protect her.
She felt familiar and new at the same time. He stroked her slowly and she cried out, then whimpered, writhing under his fingers. Reading her body, he moved faster, adding pressure, sensing she was close.
“S-s-stop,” she managed to say, fighting for words, stopping his hand. “I want you inside me.”
“Yeah,” he said, his blood surging, grateful for the invitation. He situated himself over her parted thighs, nudged at her entrance, then plunged deep into her. She felt good—a perfect fit—smooth and tight and holding on.
“Finally,” she breathed. Sparks flared and subsided in her eyes like embers in a campfire.
He pulled out and pumped in deep.
“That’s it…Keep doing…that.”
He repeated the move, loving the length of her and the way she held on to him with her sex, squeezed him, made him hers.
He’d never wanted to be inside a woman so much. And it was even better once he was there.
“Ohohoh…I want…so much…I want….” She kept struggling to speak, to tell him how she felt, what she wanted. Sweet.
“I know, baby.” He wanted, too. He wanted all of her. It was primal, carnal. He wanted to take her here on the earth, like the creature of nature he was. Raw emotion plowed through him and he thrust deeper, then deeper still.
“More.” She locked her ankles across his ass and repeated the command, pulling him deeper into her. “More.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“You won’t,” she said, steadying her gaze so he would know she meant it. “I want more.”
So he allowed instinct to rule and thrust hard.
“Oh…that’s…so…good. I’m coming…too soon.”
He smiled at the despair in her voice. There would be more. He could promise her that. He quickened his pace to catch up with her climax, then exploded inside her, as relentless as a bullet. He caught a last glimpse of her face in the thrall of orgasm before he was lost.
Lost.
He rode the feeling, unable to do anything but enjoy the woman who gripped him with her arms, her ankles, her sex, not letting go, never letting go.
She was both soft and strong. Her skin was as soft as butter, but it was resilient, pliant and sturdy. She was like that, too, he knew, deep inside, where he connected with her in a way he didn’t want to acknowledge.
They both quieted, breathing hard. He started to roll away, but she held him with her heels and looked up at him. “That was great,” she said with a satisfied sigh.
He nodded, his heart still pounding in his ears. He needed a little distance, a break to collect himself. He caught sight of his camera a few inches away, the medium lens in place, and reached for it.
“What are you doing?” she asked when he pointed it at her, touching her hair.
“You look incredible. Lean on your elbow for me.”
She turned on her side and gave him a seductive look, blocking her nipples with her arm. Very nice. “So, you are my artist, capturing the inner me on film?” She fluffed her hair and spoke in a teasing voice, shifting her leg to hide her pubic area, which was fine with him. He wanted that to be his alone to see. “That’s a fantasy I have, you know,” she said.
“A fantasy, huh?” He pulled her hair forward, the dark red waves gentle beside her cheek. Midday sun dappled her skin through the trees, turning her body into an impressionist painting. Leaf shadows arrowed from her breasts to her belly, adding texture.
“I’ve never been naked for a picture,” she whispered.
“I’ve never been naked taking one, either. First time for everything.” He ran his hand along the soft topography of her hip. “It’ll be fine, Samantha. Trust me.”
She relaxed under his touch. He felt that—deep—her trust of him and wanted always to be worthy of it.
She closed her eyes on a sigh and when she opened them again, they were blue fire. I want you.
He was shaking so badly he could hardly hold the camera to his eye, but he snapped the shot and it was perfect. He’d captured her in her double glory—soft and fierce, innocent and carnal, shaky and sure. She plain took his breath away.
At this moment, nothing mattered to him but her. Not the case, not being a cop, not his personal rules of conduct.
What the hell was happening to him?
SAMANTHA WATCHED Rick’s eyes change color like a mood ring, going from hot to cool so fast she almost gasped. He was sorry they’d had sex. He would apologize now and stop them again. She couldn’t let that happen. This was way too good to give up.
“Don’t be sorry, Rick. Please.” She rose on her elbows and pushed him to the blanket. “We’re great together. Just let that be enough for now.” She cupped his face, kissed his forehead, stared down at him, willing him to agree with h
er.
He was trying to smile, but she could tell it wasn’t easy.
“I know you want sex to mean more,” she said. “And it does.” More than she’d expected it to, anyway. More than adventure or discovery or a fantasy fulfilled. It had been glorious and moving and tender and powerful. She hadn’t quite grasped all the implications, but she knew she wanted more.
“Sex can mean plenty all on its own,” she said. She grasped him and he went immediately hard.
“When you do that I stop thinking,” he said, his eyes flaring hot.
“That’s good. Don’t think. Just feel.” She straddled him, rose on her knees and guided him smoothly inside her. “Feel this,” she said, leaning forward so he cupped her breasts. “Feel me. All…of…me.” She dragged out the words, rocking as she spoke.
“Oh, yeah,” he said, swept away. She loved that she was driving this restrained man crazy. He looked at her as if he’d never seen anyone more beautiful.
She’d never felt more like a woman. Her blood sang with the thrill and power of this moment. Talk about a fantasy fulfilled.
She and Rick were naked under the sky, surrounded by nature. A bird called nearby, the creek gurgled past, and wind rustled the aspens and hissed through the pines that stood guard over them while they engaged in this most primal of all acts.
“This is another fantasy of mine,” Samantha said, looking down at Rick, seating herself firmly on him, so that he reached her deep inside. “Having sex out here…like this.”
“That’s good.” He gripped her hips to keep himself from going too deep.
“I have more,” she breathed, fighting to hold a thought while sensations rushed through her in wave after wave.
“You want more, huh?” Rick said. “How’s this?” He pressed his thumb to her clit, which electrified her so much that she cried out. More fantasies was what she meant, and she had to explain it, but it was almost impossible to speak with his thumb stroking her, sending aching waves of pleasure along her nerves, making her ride him helplessly faster and faster as her entire body strove for release.
“Yes, more,” she panted out. “You finding me alone in my studio and tying my wrists…”