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I smiled and leaned up to capture his bottom lip between my teeth. “My parents can’t see these pictures.”
He laughed. “Or your brother.”
We started standing. Both keeping only our jeans on as we posed chest to chest, his chest to my back with his tattooed arms covering my breasts, and me behind him—clinging to his body. Then he moved me so my back was against the wall, legs around his hips, chests flush as he tortured my lips with teasing bites.
By the time he released my legs, and began unbuttoning my jeans, I’d forgotten we were doing this in front of his camera.
He finished pulling my jeans off before walking us toward the large bed and getting us both on top of it. Holding his body over mine, I ran my hands over the hard muscles in his arms and hiked one bare leg up around his hip. It wasn’t until the flash that I realized why he’d been slowly moving my arm until it was covering my exposed breasts, or why he’d continued nudging my head back with his nose to hang off the side of the bed. Through this slow-building, erotic type of foreplay we’d started on, he was still positioning us, still making sure I was somehow covered, and, I’m sure, still making it all look effortless.
Because with him, it was.
And it was soon after, when he pulled off my underwear, and allowed me to rid him of his
jeans and boxer briefs as he tossed aside the remote for the camera, that I realized I was no longer okay with not having a forever with Coen Steele. As he slowly made love to me on that bed, I knew that I’d fallen in love with him, and anything less than forever wouldn’t be enough.
Chapter Nine
Coen—September 25, 2010
KNOCKING QUICKLY ON Reagan’s door, I glanced at my car and blew out a quick breath before facing the door again right before it was flung open.
“Coen!”
“What’s up, bud?” Grabbing under Parker’s arms, I lifted him into a hug before throwing him over my shoulder.
He laughed wildly and slapped on my back. “Hey, I thought you weren’t strong!”
“I’m not.” I gasped, and stopped walking. Letting my legs shake a little, I acted like my knees were buckling under his weight. “You’re too heavy for me.”
“No, I’m not!” he squealed.
“Either we’re both going down, or just you.”
“Both!”
Letting him slide forward on my shoulder a little bit, I gasped and pretended to struggle. “I can’t keep you up—I can’t.” Sliding him the rest of the way off, I swung him down, acting like I just barely caught him before his head hit the floor.
His laughter filled the entire apartment before he lifted his head and slapped on my forearms. “Do it again.”
I widened my eyes, and let my face fall. “I can’t . . . you’re still . . . too . . . heavy,” I grunted out each word as I let him slip down onto the carpet an inch at a time. Once he was on the floor, I doubled over, breathing heavily.
Parker jumped up and tackled me onto the ground. “You’re weak, Coen, you shoulda eaten your food growing up.”
I smiled over at him. “Shoulda. How was school yesterday?”
“It was cool.”
“You and Jason still best friends?”
“Yep.”
“Girls still have cooties?”
Parker’s eyes widened, and he stopped where he’d been tracing one of the stars on my forearm. “Yeah,” he said softly. Like I should have known his answer wouldn’t have changed in a day. But with six-year-olds, you never knew. He and Jason decided they hated each other and were back to best friends twice in one day.
Holding up my fist for him to bump, I ruffled his hair and stood up. “Sounds like your world is still pretty perfect then, bud. Come on, let’s go see what’s taking your mom—” I cut off and froze when I saw Reagan standing there. She looked beautiful. Clearing my throat, I licked my lips and finished my sentence. “So long.”
Raising an eyebrow, an amused smirk tugged at her full lips before she pushed off the wall to walk toward us. “Take me so long, huh? I’ve been ready.”
