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My heart sped up even further at his promising tone.
He inched inside me ever so slowly, and when he was all the way in he stopped, taking a picture. I’d completely forgotten about the camera, but seeing it in his hand as he was braced above me made me excited.
“You can move,” I whispered.
“Not yet.” He took another picture.
He slowly inched back out, taking my picture again as my mouth fell open in an O.
He rocked his hips in and out at a leisurely pace that somehow managed to drive me crazier than what we’d done last night. I also found that there was something extremely erotic about having him above me, taking my picture as he made love to me. I couldn’t hide my emotions. They were plain for him and the camera to see. I was baring my soul to him, and I hoped he knew that, and understood the gift I was giving him. I was letting him see me.
Sweat dampened my body as I edged closer and closer to that cliff I was desperate to fall off of.
“Come for me,” he breathed, his voice barely above a whisper. “Let me see you.”
He drove into me with shallow thrusts and I clawed at the blankets as I felt my orgasm begin to take over. All the while, he took my picture.
“God, you’re so fucking beautiful and you don’t even know it,” he growled.
I wished I believed him. I had never been a person concerned about my outward appearance, but I knew on the inside that I was ugly…scarred…disfigured. I was diseased. Poison, known as lies, ran through my veins, suffocating me.
“Rowan?” He questioned, noticing the look of disgust on my face. “What’s wrong?” His movements stilled as he gazed down at me questioningly. “What did I do? What’d I say?”
“It’s nothing,” my voice cracked.
“Row,” he cupped my cheek in his hand. “Did I hurt you? Is it the pictures? You have to tell me what’s wrong so I can fix it.” His eyes pleaded with me to speak, to tell him what was going on in my head, but it was so hard.
“You didn’t hurt me,” I assured him. “But I’m not beautiful, Trent.”
“Yes, you are,” he said sternly.
I shook my head. “I’m not talking about what I look like,” I spoke fiercely. “I’m talking about what’s in here,” I placed a hand over my heart. “If you knew who I was, what I had done,” I croaked, “you’d know I wasn’t beautiful.”
“Don’t say such horrible things about yourself,” he whispered, tracing his fingers over his lips. “I don’t know who has planted these lies in your head,” he tapped my forehead, “but they’re wrong.”
“No one had to tell me anything,” I whispered with a frown. “I can see my own darkness.”
“Row…”
I knew he didn’t know what to say to me, and that was perfectly okay. I didn’t need to hear him try to convince me that I was good. He didn’t know what I had done, so in his eyes I was good. Eventually, I’d have to tell him—he deserved to know—and then he’d see how bad I was. I couldn’t hide the evil residing in my heart forever.
I pushed his shoulders, rolling him onto his back, so that I was on top.
“Take your pictures.” I took his chin in my hands, pressing my lips to his, sealing us together.
Because soon, those pictures will be all you’ll have left of me.
???
“And this is Times Square,” Trenton said, like as if I hadn’t already figured that out. I twirled around, my jaw hanging open in awe.
The lights, the sounds, the people…none of it was like home. It was easy for me to believe that Trent and I were in a whole new world. One where only the two of us existed.
Somebody bumped into me, propelling me into Trent. He wrapped his arms around me to keep me from falling on the sidewalk.
“Well, that was rude,” I glared at the retreating back of the man that had pushed me.
“That’s New York City,” Trent laughed. “Get used to it.”
