Beautiful Stranger
Page 93
Maybe because he was so tall, and broad, and constantly smiling and impossible to offend, Max seemed so formidable, as if nothing could actually break him. But he was only human, too.
“I understand,” I whispered. It was so strange to be on the other side of messing up, and to be the one who was given another chance.
He kissed me and then stepped back, slipping out of his jacket and hanging it on a coatrack in the corner. I spotted his camera on a shelf in the opposite corner of the room and walked over to pick it up. I stared down at it, found the ON button, raised the camera, and adjusted the lens.
I aimed it at where Max stood, watching me and tugging at his bow tie.
“I love you, too,” I said, zooming to take a close-up of his face. I clicked a few more pictures in rapid succession as he stared hungrily at me. “Undress.”
He pulled his tie away from his collar and dropped it, eyes growing darker, and began unbuttoning his shirt.
Click.
“A warning,” I murmured from behind the camera as he pulled his shirt open. “I’ll probably need to lick every inch of your chest tonight.”
A smile tilted his mouth. Click. “Fine by me. I might insist you lick a little lower, too.”
I took a picture of his hands at his belt, his pants on the floor, his feet as they stepped right in front of mine.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, reaching to take the camera away from me.
“Taking pictures for my bedroom.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Get on the bed, Petal. Apparently you need a reminder of how this works.”
I climbed back, feeling the cool sheets as the mattress dipped below me. He reached down, adjusted my leg, studied me.
Click.
“Look at me,” he murmured.
The light from the Manhattan skyline slipped across my body, illuminating a strip of skin on my ribs. His finger ran up the inside of my thigh as I looked up at his face, partially hidden by the camera.
Click.
I exhaled, closing my eyes and smiling.
New life. New love. New Sara.
“I understand,” I whispered. It was so strange to be on the other side of messing up, and to be the one who was given another chance.
He kissed me and then stepped back, slipping out of his jacket and hanging it on a coatrack in the corner. I spotted his camera on a shelf in the opposite corner of the room and walked over to pick it up. I stared down at it, found the ON button, raised the camera, and adjusted the lens.
I aimed it at where Max stood, watching me and tugging at his bow tie.
“I love you, too,” I said, zooming to take a close-up of his face. I clicked a few more pictures in rapid succession as he stared hungrily at me. “Undress.”
He pulled his tie away from his collar and dropped it, eyes growing darker, and began unbuttoning his shirt.
Click.
“A warning,” I murmured from behind the camera as he pulled his shirt open. “I’ll probably need to lick every inch of your chest tonight.”
A smile tilted his mouth. Click. “Fine by me. I might insist you lick a little lower, too.”
I took a picture of his hands at his belt, his pants on the floor, his feet as they stepped right in front of mine.
“What do you think you’re doing?” he asked, reaching to take the camera away from me.
“Taking pictures for my bedroom.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Get on the bed, Petal. Apparently you need a reminder of how this works.”
I climbed back, feeling the cool sheets as the mattress dipped below me. He reached down, adjusted my leg, studied me.
Click.
“Look at me,” he murmured.
The light from the Manhattan skyline slipped across my body, illuminating a strip of skin on my ribs. His finger ran up the inside of my thigh as I looked up at his face, partially hidden by the camera.
Click.
I exhaled, closing my eyes and smiling.
New life. New love. New Sara.
