Page 25 of See My Words

“Back to him?”

Rylan nuzzled his nose against Scott’s cheek. “No, that’s over. To wherever my career led me next.” He placed a line of kisses along Scott’s jaw, and Scott tilted his head back, giving Rylan access to his throat.

“And where would that be?” Scott’s voice was hoarse, and Rylan could feel him hardening against him.

“Mmm. I don’t know,” he admitted, running his hands down Scott’s back to cup his ass. “I’ve been an arrogant little fuck, not wanting to pay my dues as a stringer.” Scott looked mystified, and Rylan went on. “Someone who gets paid by the assignment whenever a news agency calls. There’s no job security, and you have to be willing to do anything on a moment’s notice.”

“Sounds like it would suck.”

“It’s a good way to build relationships with various news organizations who use stringers when their staff photographers can’t get somewhere quickly. Or when it’s something no one else wants to do.” He gave a rueful half shrug. “I decided not to go that route, and now here I am with a stalled project, no contacts or network.”

“Well, you’re fucking wasted at Spectrum, taking pictures of parties and drunken idiots.”

“I’m enjoying it, and it pays the bills…for now. But you’re right. I won’t be satisfied with that forever.”

“So what would you do, if you could do anything? What’s your dream?”

Rylan spread his palm over Scott’s chest, moving it in ever-widening circles, letting his pinkie graze a nipple through his shirt. Goose bumps pebbled Scott’s skin as the little bud stiffened, and Rylan couldn’t resist lifting his head up for a quick taste.

“Mmm. Besides spending as much time as possible in bed with you?”

Scott flicked him on the nose. “I’m being serious.”

Rylan stopped teasing him for a moment, contemplating the question. “I’ve always felt safe behind my camera,” he said at last. “Sometimes if things feel overwhelming, being behind the lens takes me outside myself, helps me forget my problems, puts them in perspective.”

“You helped me the other night.” Scott brushed a lock of hair off Rylan’s forehead. “By giving me the boost of confidence I needed to go out, get back to the club.”

“I love being a part of stuff like that, privy to people’s innermost thoughts, those intimate moments they share with me.” Rylan sighed. “I don’t exactly know how to parlay all that into a career, though.”

“Your project?”

Rylan winced, thinking about the last couple of times he’d tried to find and talk to Maya, being rebuffed at every turn. “That’s pretty much fizzled out,” he admitted. “I think I’m going to have to go the stringer route. Although—”

“What?” Scott tickled his ribs when Rylan didn’t answer right away, chuckling when Rylan flailed. “Tell me.”

“I’ve been talking to Chris about it a lot.”

Scott immediately stiffened at the mention of the name, and his fingers dug painfully into Rylan’s side for a moment, making him squeak. “Sorry,” he muttered, sounding anything but. “What does—Chris say?”

Rylan snuggled closer, trying to ignore how tense he was. What was it about Chris that put his back up so much?

“I think I told you he’s on R&R right now after an assignment in Libya. He’s also been to Iraq, Afghanistan, Cuba…his conflict photos are incredible, Scott. The sense of purpose, the witness to history.” Rylan remembered the awe he felt looking through Chris’s portfolio. “I want that.”

Scott pushed off Rylan and sat up. “To go to a fucking war zone?” His tone was a mixture of anger and incredulousness. “You don’t have any experience traveling outside the US, much less to a goddamn war zone, do you?”

Rylan petted him soothingly, running his hand up and down Scott’s arm. “No. And that’s why Chris invited me to go to Africa with him when he leaves next.” He braced himself for the detonation, which wasn’t long in coming.

“What the fuck?” Scott exploded up off the couch with a snarl. “You’re going to Africa with Chris?”

“I’m considering it,” Rylan said honestly. “It’d be an awesome opportunity to travel with someone experienced, someone who can show me the ropes and be sort of a mentor.”

“A mentor who wants to get in your pants,” Scott sneered, and Rylan held up his hands.

“It’s not about that at all,” he protested. “He’s actually seen my work, and he thinks I have potential as a photojournalist, Scott. Do you have any idea what that means to me, coming from someone like him? He’s had pictures featured in the New York Times, Vanity Fair. To have him take me under his wing…”

Scott scrubbed his hands over his face, slumping a little.

“The sex part was just for fun, you know?” Rylan went on. “We like each other, but that’s not what this is about. Out in the field, it’d be professional. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”