The Fading Trilogy: Fading, Freeing, Falling: Includes 2 BONUS short stories: Hoping and Finding Forever (119 page)

She’s frustrated when she falls back into the large chair. I move to sit on the edge of the coffee table in front of her and lean forward, asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I was just excited to submit that photo.” She leans her head back and looks up at the ceiling, saying, “Maybe it was a stupid idea.”

“Is it that important to you?”

“I just thought if you saw one of your pieces in a showing, that you would see the art in it.”

Thinking about how I could just photograph her, I smile when I say, “It wasn’t difficult to capture or enhance. I can recreate it if you want.”

“We don’t have time for you to find someone to pose. It needs to be submitted tomorrow by the end of the day.”

“We don’t need to find anyone,” I tell her, already excited about being able to get photos of her. “Let’s go upstairs. I’ll shoot
your
back.”

She immediately blushes. “No.”

“No, what?”

“I’m not taking my top off for you to photograph me.”

“You don’t have to take anything off, promise. It’s an extreme close-up; you only need to hike it up a little,” I try to assure her. Her inhibition is nothing that I’m not aware of, but I also want her to be comfortable enough with me so that we can start to move forward.

“What?” she questions when I stand up and take her hand.

“We’re going upstairs.”

“Ryan, no.”

She tugs her hand out of mine, and I ask, “What’s wrong?”

“It feels weird to me.”

“Don’t let it.”

“You just can’t say that and expect me to be okay. I’m not like the girls you took those pictures of. I’m . . .”

“No, you’re not. You’re nothing like them, which is why I threw them in the garbage.” I move to kiss her, needing her to just relax, knowing it’s just the two of us and no one is judging. When I pull back, I look at her and affirm, “I only want you. No one else. The only photos I want are ones of you.”

She hesitates, but then she nods. I want her to do this, so I don’t say anything else as I walk her upstairs. Letting go of her hand, I leave her in the center of my room as I go into the closet to get my camera, and when I return, she’s still in the same spot. I let her be while I pull the drapes shut, blacking out the room before taking her hand and leading her to the bed.

“Just lie on your stomach,” I gently instruct and watch as she climbs up and lies down, folding her arms underneath her head.

Her eyes stay on me as I crawl onto the bed next to her. Her body flinches when I take the hem of her shirt between my fingers.

“I’m just going to lift it up a little.”

It’s just her back, but she always keeps herself covered up, and I can’t help myself when I drag my knuckles along her spine as I lift her shirt up and then tuck it under the strap of her bra. Her skin is milky and flawless. Perfect.

She takes a deep breath and I ask, “You okay?”

“Mmm hmm.”

I notice her eyes are closed when I get off of the bed to kneel beside it. Picking up my camera that I haven’t used in months, I begin to adjust the settings for the lack of light in the room. I shift my eyes to see she’s watching me, and I give her a small smile then bring the camera up to my eye to set the flash.

“I’m gonna take some test shots to get the shutter speed right, okay?”

Resting my elbows on the mattress, I move in close to her back and capture a few images to make sure the lighting isn’t distorting her lines. When I look at the shot, I notice that there isn’t much curve to her back, so I take a pillow from the bed.

“Here, lean up.” She pushes her chest up from the mattress, and I wedge the pillow under her as I explain, “I just need a little more curve to your spine. Just lie down and relax.”

Kneeling back down, I aim the camera close to her back and softly murmur, “That’s perfect,” and I begin to shoot. I only take about ten quick shots when I set the camera down because everything about this is turning me on.

I’ve never felt anything when taking pictures in the past, but this . . . this feels intimate. Looking at her lying on my bed. I know she feels exposed, and I can see how tense her body is. But for the first time, I feel like we’re connecting in a way that we haven’t before. That she’s starting to trust me.

I pull her shirt out from her bra and lower it back down, covering her again before I lean over her, bracing my hands on the bed.

“Thanks,” I whisper, and she rolls to her side as I lower myself next to her.

I move in and lightly graze my lips across hers, just wanting the feel of her before I cover her mouth with mine. She tangles her hands in my hair, and everything about her touch makes me want her. And even if this is all she’ll give me right now, it’s more than the meaningless sex I’ve had with all of those other women. Everything is so much more with her, and I can’t help but think about what it will be like when we finally get there. If just kissing her feels like this, I can’t even imagine what I’m in for.

I roll her onto her back, finding it hard to control myself. I run my kisses down her neck and across her collarbone. She grips my arms, and her hold is tight on me when I reach down and grab on to her thigh, needing more of her as I run my hand slowly up her leg. Burying my head in her neck, she clamps her hand around my wrist, stopping my hand from moving between her legs.

Pulling back, I look over her face, but she keeps her eyes down and then whispers, “Sorry.” But there is nothing about this that she needs to be sorry for because I can feel her trying, and that’s all I need from her.

“You don’t ever have to be sorry,” I tell her as she looks up at me. “God, you’re beautiful.”

She doesn’t respond when I tell her this, but it’s okay. I’ve never ached for anyone like this. I’ve never ached to touch someone so badly before. So to hold back with her hurts because it’s the last thing I want to do. But I know I’m falling in love, so I do it.

Taking her hand in mine, I hold it as I run my other hand through her hair.

“Stay with me,” I tell her, not wanting to spend the night without her.

“I told you, I can’t.”

“You mean you won’t,” I respond. She’s spent the past two nights here with me and told me this morning that she was going to go home tonight. I get that she doesn’t feel comfortable being here every night, but I don’t want her to go either.

“Ryan,” she breathes out. “Don’t make me feel bad.”

“I don’t want to make you feel bad; I just want to keep you in my bed,” I say with a sly grin to lighten the mood because I really don’t want to make her feel bad for wanting a night in her own bed.

She shakes her head at me, then pulls me down to her and kisses me, holding me close. We continue like this for a while and it makes the anticipation so much worse when I keep thinking about what it would be like if she would just let me touch her. So when she finally does leave, I take that anticipation to the shower.

Turning the water on hot, I let it wash over me as I allow my mind to run free. God, I want her, and the more time I have with her, the harder it is to control myself. Having her stop me when all I wanted was to keep running my hand up her thigh. To know what she feels like. To let myself go with her.

I can’t hold back when I fist myself in my hand, imagining her soft skin against me. Fantasizing about having her naked in my bed and how she would look. My mind begins to lose itself in a myriad of thoughts when I finally zone in and see her so clearly.

She lies underneath me, running her hands along my chest, with a sated look on her face while I move inside of her.

The intense vision causes me to catch my breath, and I have to brace my hand on the tile wall, dropping my head.

Her legs wrap around my hips, pulling me in deeper, gripping my hair in her hands. Her body is warm against mine while she moves with me. She’s into it, losing herself.

The hot water runs down my back, and my shoulders tense as I begin stroking myself faster.

I drag my tongue over her nipple and suck it into my mouth, making her breathe my name for more.

Tightening my grip, I work myself through my heady breaths.

Sitting back on my knees, she rocks her hips into me, bowing her back off the bed as I run my hands up her torso and between her breasts. She’s completely exposed to me. Her naked flesh, smooth, damp with sweat.

My muscles tighten, and I feel myself swell as I’m about to go.

She’s moaning.

I’m panting.

Running my hands inside of her thighs, I slide my thumb over her wet core as she throws her head back into the pillow.

“Uhh, fuck,” I moan out when I finally feel the pulses of release I’ve been needing from the eagerness that’s been building up inside of me. I let it go as my head falls back while I ride out the images that are still reeling in my mind. The air is thick with steam, and when I’m able to stand without the support of the wall, I turn the heat down on the water to cool off before I get out.

After my shower, I get ready for bed and slide under the covers, replaying our evening together. Thinking about how she looked when I was photographing her. Realizing, that in her own way, she was finally opening herself up to me with her trust. It wasn’t obvious, but I saw it anyway.

I grab a pillow from her side of the bed, and smile at the thought that I’ve allowed a girl to claim a side of my bed. But I have and I like it. Rolling onto my side, I wrap my arm around her pillow and can smell her on the fabric. She smells so good; I know I’ll never grow tired of it, so I lie there as she finds a way to flood my mind again.

Fuck, I need another shower.

Candace stopped by a few days ago to pick up the photo after I finished enhancing it. I think she was surprised to see herself like that. Even if it was just the sway of her back, the photo was beyond sensual. For some reason, she’s really uncomfortable with exposing herself. She’s confident in her body—it would be odd if she wasn’t, being a dancer and all—but being comfortable with herself in a sexual way doesn’t seem to come easily for her. It could just be that she’s never been that way with a man, but I see her starting to try with me.

The whole thing got me thinking about how I spend my time. Candace keeps herself busy with work and school, but mostly with dance. She loves it; it’s her passion in life, and I admire her focus. I don’t have a focus like that in my life, and although she takes it a step beyond most people, I feel like I need to find something outside of work and Candace to do with my time. I talked to her about this yesterday on the phone, and she encouraged me to spend more of my time working on my photography.

I’ve always enjoyed the editing aspect of it, but never took a whole lot of pleasure in the actual shoots until last weekend when she let me shoot her. She made me a very loose promise that she would let me photograph her again, and I plan on holding her to her word.

I hear my phone chime in the next room, and I’m surprised to see Gavin’s name when I open his text.

You at work?

Home. What’s up?

In the area. Mind if I stop by for a while?

Come on over.

After the random run-in that Candace and I had with him the other week, I didn’t think I would actually hear from him when he said he would be in touch. But when he gets here, he says he just wanted to stop by and catch up. So we crack open a couple of beers and flip on ESPN, hanging out like we used to do, simply killing time.

“So I ran into Max and his girlfriend the other night,” he tells me.

“Oh yeah, where at?”

“Lakeside,” he says and then takes a pull of his beer before adding, “Did you know she’s pregnant?”

“Yeah, man. I knew.”

Shaking his head, he says, “I couldn’t believe it when he told me that shit. We used to have so much fun before he got tied down with that chick. Speaking of chicks, who was that girl you were with the other day?”

Looking over at him, I don’t even know why I’m even gonna waste my time telling him, but I do. “We’ve been seeing each other.”

He gives me a smirk and says, “Nice, man,” mistaking my word
seeing
for
hooking up with
.

“No, I mean we’re together,” I clarify.

Giving his head a questioning tilt, he says, “She doesn’t seem your type.”

“She’s exactly my type.”

“You sure about that?”

“Yeah, man. I’m sure about that,” I tell him, annoyed with his almost condescending tone.

He takes my hint and changes the subject, asking, “You gonna be at the bar tonight?”

“Yeah. I’ve been going in on Friday nights to free up my weekends lately.”

“A few buddies of mine were gonna hit up Monkey Pub, but we’ll stop by to hang out if you have time for a drink.”