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“Uh-huh. So do you have a plan for what happens next?”
He reached for the buttons on her shirt, unfastened them, and then pushed the fabric off, revealing all that smooth, fair skin. “Just this. You and me. Naked. On that bed, doing what feels good.”
She shivered at the trace of his fingertips over her shoulders, her nipples stiffening to tempting points. “I can work with that.”
“So can I, Rush.”
So can I.
* * *
Marin didn’t know what was showing on her face, but she hoped she didn’t look as flayed open as she felt. She hadn’t known what to expect when Donovan said he had something in the bedroom for her, but the last thing she’d expected was this. The man who didn’t believe in The One, who seemed to see romance as a silly illusion we fed ourselves, had set up the most romantic thing she could imagine. He wanted to give her the fantasy first time, the storybook one. And though she had zero regrets about how her first time had gone with him, she couldn’t deny that this nudged that secret part inside her that still got swept away by happily-ever-afters and sappy movies.
This guy was going to freaking kill her. She’d told him she wanted him to be himself, to not put on any masks, but maybe that had been a dangerous thing. She could deal with the Donovan who got her body revving, the one who’d fuck her in a closet or do naughty role-plays. But she wasn’t sure she could handle this version. This version could hurt. Slice her right open and get to the tender parts.
But before she could finish her silent panic attack, Donovan lifted her and brought her over to the bed. The sheets and flower petals were cool beneath her back as he laid her out. He straightened by the side of the bed, looming in the candlelight, shirtless with just his pair of slacks on, and this intent, almost pained, look on his face. He brushed the back of his hand over her breast, making her shiver and sending heat blooming there. “You’re beautiful, Marin. You look like art right now. I wish I had my camera out.”
She licked her lips. She’d noticed the photographs hanging on the walls of his place the first time she’d been here. Mostly black-and-white landscapes and city skylines. The same type of photos that hung in the therapy office. Things captured from a distance, never close up. Behind him was a stunning one of what looked to be San Francisco Bay.
Now she realized why they’d drawn her attention. All those photos were his. The world seen through Donovan’s eyes. “You do photography.”
“Not anymore, but you’re making me regret that now.”
Goose bumps appeared at his full-length perusal. A few seconds ago, if someone had suggested she take nude photos, she would’ve laughed them right out of the room. Incriminating pictures that showed every flaw possible? Yeah, no thanks. But the way Donovan was looking at her made her skin pull tight and everything warm. “How would you photograph me?”
His gaze slid to hers, something fiery and dangerous there. He trailed his fingertips over her breast and down her belly, circling her navel. “Just like this. All spread out and bared for me. Willing and wanting. Trusting.”
Her toes curled at the teasing touch, her back arching. “Yeah?”
He walked around the foot of the bed, leaving his hand on her but trailing it along with him. He pinched her left nipple with erotic precision, sending fire through her. “Then maybe a close-up shot of just these pretty pink nipples, straining for a touch or my tongue. Then a shot of them swollen and wet from my mouth.”
She closed her eyes and could almost feel his lips on her. But all he did was map the edges of her areola, making everything hypersensitive.
“The possibilities are endless.” His voice had taken on a hypnotic quality, one that was lulling her into this suspended state of being aware of every inch of her body. He walked his fingers over her collarbone. “I could stroke myself just thinking about every way I’d want to photograph you.” He let his touch glide down her arm. “Maybe tied up for me. Maybe touching yourself. Maybe covered with my come because I just couldn’t resist rubbing my cock while I took pictures.”
She bit her lip and a little moan escaped her at that image. It was explicit and dirty, pornographic. But she couldn’t drum up shame about that. Being tied up and having Donovan masturbate over her—goddamn. Yes. Please. Could she put in an order for that?
Donovan made a pleased sound in the back of his throat, his fingers finding her hair. “You’re getting all pink, baby, and I have a feeling that’s not a blush. You like the idea of that, huh? Of me seeing you through a lens or documenting just how shamelessly sexual you can be.”
She fought to find her voice. “And give you blackmail material? No way.”
He laughed and traced his hand down from her neck, over her sternum and down, down, down until he was cupping her sex. She jolted at the touch. She felt hot and heavy there already, but his palm seared her. He slid his fingers over her. “Yeah, you seem really concerned.”
Her knees bent and she whimpered at the need building there. How could he stoke her fire so easily after what had already happened tonight? Surely, she had a limit. Or maybe her body had some storehouse of missed orgasmic opportunities from all these years and was ready to make up for lost time.
He slid two fingers inside her. “What’s your safe word?”
Her teeth dragged over her bottom lip. “Blue.”
“Grab hold of the headboard and keep your legs open like this. Don’t move unless I tell you.”
Her eyes snapped open at that. “Donovan.”
He gave her one last maddening stroke. “Trust me for now. You have your word if you need it.”
Anxiety rippled through her, but something in his gaze smoothed the edges of it. She found herself lifting her arms and reaching for the headboard. Donovan gave her a nod, clearly pleased if the look on his face and the obvious erection in his pants were any indication. Then, he walked over to his closet, opened the doors, and pulled something from a high shelf. She knew what it had to be, but when he turned around and pulled a fancy camera from a bag, her belly dipped.
He kept his eyes on her and set the bag aside. “This camera is not connected to the Internet. Pictures are stored on a little card inside. You can have the card when we’re done or break it in two. But right now, I want to see you through my lens, naked on my bed, wearing only candlelight.”
