Camera Shy (8 page)

Her gaze drifted to his shoulders. His tattoos were completely exposed now, and like Jason himself, were rugged and beautiful. The ink on his bicep was an intricate tribal design, leading into meticulously detailed and colorful Celtic knot-work and geometric patterns that stretched across his upper back. She wanted to touch them, to trace her fingers along their edges. She wanted to knead the sculpted muscles beneath them. She—

The muscles in his back rippled and he rolled onto his side. His eyes opened, and he smiled sleepily at her. "So it wasn't a dream," he whispered.

"No, definitely not."

"Thank God." He grinned, but then his expression shifted and his cheeks darkened a little. "I'm really not that kind of guy usually. But, honestly, I just couldn't resist you."

"A willing, horny woman, what's not to love?"
Simone! Way to sound like a
complete whore.

He let his thumb drift over the side of her wrist, raising goosebumps all over her.

"No, it's not like that at all. Really."

"What was it then?"

He watched his fingers run up and down her arm, his brow furrowing as if he were searching for the words. When he finally met her eyes again, he whispered, "What can I say? You're very attractive, Allyson. Very attractive. I just, I don't usually get carried away like that."

She shrugged. "I don't know, I kind of liked it when you got carried away." His lips parted and his eyebrows jumped. Then he cleared his throat and offered a self-conscious smile. "Okay, so did I. But, you know what I mean."

"Yes, I do." She put her hand on top of his. "You don't have to explain yourself, Jason. I enjoyed it."

"Good. So did I." He touched her face. "I hope you'll at least stay for breakfast."

No, no, you can't stay. Don't get wrapped up in this. Don't do it
. Guilt tried to force its way to the surface, but she smiled it back. "Of course," she said. "It would be rude not to."

He laughed and propped himself up on his elbow. He kissed her lightly.

"Perhaps you'd join me for a shower?"

"Of course." She rose from the bed, pausing to wince at the soreness in her hips. He watched her.

"I didn't hurt you, I hope?" His expression was simultaneously concerned and mischievous.

"Nothing a little stretching won't take care of."
Oh, cute, Simone. Really cute
. He laughed with a devilish twinkle in his eyes, but said nothing. He rubbed his arm and twisted a crick out of his back.

She supposed they both should have known they couldn't get in the shower together and keep their hands off each other. She didn't see Jason grab the condom on the way out of the bedroom, but she did see him set it on the window sill in the shower.
Great minds think alike, don't they?

They had scarcely stepped under the water before he took her in his arms. The hot water felt wonderful on her skin, but not nearly as luxurious as Jason's hands all over her.

His mouth engulfed hers, his lips and tongue doing to her mouth what they had done all over her body the night before. She tingled at the memory; his tongue was the stuff
legends
were made of.

Simone broke the kiss and looked into his eyes. Crystalline drops of water rolled down his unshaven face like sweat. She imagined catching them with her tongue, tasting the saltiness of his skin, and unconsciously swept her tongue across the bottoms of her teeth. He exhaled heavily as she did, licking his lips just before he kissed her again.

Jason ached to be inside her again. God in heaven, he'd never wanted a woman like this. And the more he tasted her, touched her, the more he
needed
her. She pressed her weight against him, urging him to take a step back. As he did, the sudden chill of the tile wall took his breath away. He gasped and tried to step away from it, but her hands held his shoulders and kept him there.

Then, she dropped to her knees, taking him into her mouth before he could react. Her tongue swirled around his cock, sending overwhelming sensations all through his body.

"Oh my God, Allyson," he murmured. He looked down, watching his cock disappear into her mouth, then reappear slowly, before she swallowed him again. He ran his fingers through her soaked hair. Her lips tightened around him, then loosened, then tightened again, each squeeze and release triggering a moan or a gasp.
Holy hell,
she's—

Her hand joined her mouth, stroking up and down his shaft as her lips and tongue worked the head of his cock. Her hand squeezed and released in time with her mouth. A moment later, her other hand wrapped around just past her lips. Both hands and her mouth moved in harmony, but with slightly different movements, enveloping his cock in a melee of sensations like nothing he'd ever felt before. His hands clawed at the wet tile behind him. He arched his back and groaned with each stroke. She moved faster and faster, taking him deep into her mouth, her hands sliding along his shaft and sending electric shocks of pleasure all through his trembling body. If not for the wall behind him, he was sure he'd collapse. Each stroke inched him ever closer to climaxing. A powerful orgasm boiled within him.
Not yet, not yet
. He wasn't ready to come, not yet. He took her wrists and she stopped, looking up at him, a wicked grin on her face. He whispered breathlessly, "Come up here."

She swept her tongue over his cock one last time, then stood and leaned in to kiss him, but he took her shoulders and turned her toward the wall.

Simone yelped in surprise as her breasts touched the icy tile. A second later, his hands were over them and the warmth of his body engulfed the rest of her as he held her to the wall. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him grab the condom.

"I want to be inside you," he growled into her ear, his unshaven jaw deliciously coarse against her skin. The wrapper tore. "I want you so bad it
hurts
." He nudged her legs apart with his knee, his hands sliding down her sides to her hips. He pushed into her from behind, moving slowly, deliberately, so she felt every inch of him. She exhaled in time with his sensuous motion.

Buried to the hilt, he stopped. His entire body quivered, his breath ragged on her wet skin. She tightened her muscles around him, and he released a throaty, primal growl. She rolled her hips, pulling him in even farther. They moved together, with slow, luxurious strokes as he filled her completely. His every moan, every catch of his breath beside her ear, ignited more passion within her.

Suddenly he tightened his grip on her hips and thrust as deeply within her as he could. His hand slid around her waist until his fingers found her clit. She gasped as his fingertip drew lazy, gentle circles around it. He moved within her again, slowly, so slowly,
agonizingly
slowly. Her legs shook. Waves of ecstasy—fire and ice, pain and pleasure—surged through her.

He growled in her ear. "Tell me what you want."

She struggled to form the words. "I want you . . . to . . . faster . . . ." She finally managed, pushing herself against his hand, rolling her hips in time with his. A powerful orgasm hung within her, on the brink, ready to overtake her.

"Tell me more," he whispered.

"I want you," she said again. "Faster . . .
harder
. . . ."

"Do
what
faster and harder?"

"Fuck me! Fuck . . . me . . .
harder
. . . ." He needed no further bidding; he grabbed her hips and
fucked her
, driving himself into her as hard as he could, fucking her so deep she swore he was going to hit

her throat. Within seconds, she came, delicious spasms wracking her body as he continued to slam his cock deep inside her.

A moment later, he cried out and shuddered against her. His fingers dug into her hips and a long moan brushed past her ear. His entire body tensed, trembled, then relaxed. He rested his forehead on her shoulder and held her while they both caught their breath.

When at last they could both breathe, he turned her around and pulled her into his arms beneath the hot, rushing water.

Chapter Eleven

On the way to the kitchen from Jason's bedroom, a framed picture in the hallway caught Simone's eye. She stopped. It was an incredible black and white image of a nude woman posing on a black couch. Her soft, supple curves contrasted sharply with horizontal stripes of shadow, as if illuminated only by light pouring through venetian blinds. Everything—the angle of her arms, the placement of her hands to emphasize the swoop of her hip, the blinds' shadows framing her erect nipples—was perfect. Deliberate. Calculated. Nothing accidental. She didn't imagine there was much Jason did with a female body that
was
accidental.

Beside the print hung another nude, this one in color, with seashells covering the nipples of another perfectly posed model.

"Jason," she said. He was walking ahead of her and turned around. She gestured at one of the prints. "I didn't think you photographed people."

"Not often, no," he said, his cheeks coloring. "These are, I . . . ." He hesitated before gesturing dismissively. "It's just a hobby."

"They're stunning."

He blinked. "You . . . like them?"

"I'm no prude, Jason."

He laughed. "I can't argue with that, can I?" Pausing, he cleared his throat. "I just—" He pursed his lips as he looked at the prints. "I don't usually show these to people."

"But they're in your hallway, for anyone to see."

He shrugged. "Not many people come down this hallway."
Their loss
. "Your work is . . . amazing. Really."

"Thank you." He looked at the pictures for a moment, a distant expression in his eyes. His gaze flicked from the prints, to Simone, then back to the prints. "I appreciate a beautiful female figure."

Simone's cheeks burned as she looked back at the woman shadowed by blinds.

They stood in silence for a long time. Jason pretended to look at the picture, but it was really Allyson's reflection in the glass that held his attention. There was an odd expression on her face, as if she had something to say, but couldn't find the words. Taking a breath, she opened her mouth to speak, but quickly snapped her jaw shut and looked away.

He turned to her. "What is it?"

"Nothing," she said quickly, shifting her weight. But there was a tension in the air, something unspoken.

"Breakfast?" he said, hoping to lighten the mood.

She smiled, but the tension lingered. "Of course."

Simone followed him into the kitchen, but her mind stayed with the photographs on the wall. The women looked so perfect, so . . . comfortable. She spent her entire career—and most of her personal life these days—in front of a camera, but she'd never posed nude. Never. Even the most damning photos of her, the ones that had blown her affairs open and destroyed her marriage, weren't fully nude, and they certainly weren't deliberately posed.

She wondered what it would be like, posing nude in front of the camera. In front of
Jason's
camera. He made her feel so at ease. He made her feel sexy. But what if the pictures got out? That was just what she needed. As if her career wasn't in enough trouble without "
Simone Farrell Poses Nude
" all over every newsstand. And—

"Allyson?"

Jason's voice startled her. He raised an eyebrow. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she said with a smile she hoped convinced him. "Just daydreaming." He smiled back. "Coffee?"

"Please. Black."

"Have a seat, breakfast is coming up."

As they walked across the living room, something crunched under her bare foot. On the floor, she found a small, white button with a single tentacle of frayed thread still attached. She bent and picked it up, turning it in her fingers as she followed Jason into the dining room. The memory of him tearing his shirt apart, of the ravenous hunger in his eyes, sent a shudder through her.

"Black coffee," he said, setting a mug on the table. He looked at the button in her hand and laughed, a mixture of mischievousness and shyness flickering across his eyes.

"I guess I must have dropped that last night."

She set it on the table and sat to drink her coffee. They chatted lightly as he went about cooking breakfast, but all the while, her eyes kept drifting to the button on the table.

She couldn't remember a time when a man had wanted her that much, or, for that matter, when she'd wanted a man that much. She couldn't remember a time when a man wanted to have his skin against hers like Jason did last night, to the point he'd sooner tear the buttons off his shirt than take the time to unfasten them. Last night was exactly what she'd been craving. He'd scratched her itch, calmed the maddening desire, and yet it wasn't enough. He'd satisfied her several times over,

but still she wanted more. He'd met her need for sex, but she'd never before had to contend with the need for sex
with Jason
.

After only one night with him, she had no doubt he was going to be a hard habit to break. Guilt coiled in her gut. Sooner or later she had to face reality; this couldn't go on. But not now. Not yet. Reality could wait.

"Do you like movies?" he asked.

Her blood turned to ice. She gripped her coffee cup, hoping he didn't see her reaction to his benign question. "Sure. Some."
Oh God, what if he's a movie fanatic? Sooner
or later, he'll recognize me. He'll know
.

"I've got a pretty big collection," he said. "Older stuff, mostly. And foreign films." He wrinkled his nose. "I'm not really into the crap Hollywood's churned out in the last decade or so."

You don't say
. She was simultaneously insulted and relieved. "I'm not picky." He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding her eyes almost shyly. "If you'd like, we could watch a movie tonight."

Her stomach dropped.
Don't do it, don't do it, don't drag this out any more than
—

"I'd love to."

He took a breath and stared into his coffee cup. "Look, I've never done anything like this before. Whatever ‘
this
' is that we're doing."

"Neither have I."
Okay, that's bullshit, but you don't need to know that
.