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“That was perfect!” She threw up a fist in victory. “I can’t wait to see how they turn out.”
Her smile, her joy, it was…exquisite.
“Give me the camera,” I whispered.
Her smile faltered. “What?”
“Give. Me. The. Camera.” I held out my hand.
“Why?” She stood slowly, her body rubbing against mine in the tight space between my torso and the rail.
“Because you’re beautiful and I want a picture.” I crooked my fingers and splayed my palm. I wanted her to see exactly how she looked to me in that moment, her cheeks flush with concentration and her eyes bright.
A blush rose in her cheeks. “I’m more of a behind-the-camera girl.”
“Are you seriously telling me that I’ve let you take countless pictures of me for the past six weeks and you won’t give me one?” I pinned her with a look, and she swallowed.
“It’s just…” She took a deep breath. “I mean, the project is about your body, not mine.”
“Huh. How disappointing.” I skated away, clucking my tongue. “Because you have a killer body, yourself.” Too much. You said too much. I took off my skates and put them away, then headed upstairs without running the Zam or even putting my shirt back on.
Was I running away? Maybe. I should have kept my mouth shut, kept the line between us…what, blurred as fuck? Because kissing her before every game certainly didn’t scream platonic.
She came right after me as soon as her skates were off. “Why would you even want a picture?” she asked once she reached the main level, but I was already headed up to the second floor. The more space between us, the better.
I braced my hands on the railing and looked down at her. “Did it ever once occur to you that I might like looking at you, Evangeline?”
The way her eyes flared told me it hadn’t.
“Maybe I’m fascinated with the way your body moves. Maybe I think it would be fun to turn the tables on you, to study how the light plays across your skin.” I white-knuckled the railing. “You know how you make me feel while you’re snapping those pictures?”
“Objectified?” she guessed, glancing away.
“Powerful,” I replied. “I’m used to the objectification. Comes with the whole endorsement, promotion, publicity thing. But when you turn that camera on me, you make me feel powerful, beautiful, and wanted, because it’s you on the other side of the lens, and that’s how you look at me.” I ripped my hands over my hair. “It drives me fucking crazy in the best and worst ways.”
She sucked in a breath.
“That’s how you should feel, Evangeline. Powerful. Beautiful. Wanted.”
“Because you…want me?” she whispered, so much longing in her eyes that I nearly broke, nearly erased the distance between us. We were at a breaking point, and we both knew it— we’d been skating the edge of it since Valentine’s Day.
But if this was something she wanted, she was going to have to take the first step.
“I didn’t show you how much I wanted you last week?” I cocked an eyebrow at her. “Or does every random guy you know eat you out like he’s starving?”
Her mouth dropped open.
“Come on.” I held out my hand. “Let me turn the tables.”
She stared at me, every emotion she felt playing out over her face. Fear. Lust. Apprehension. Need. Wonder. Anxiety. It was all there, plain as day.
“Do this, and I’ll let you shoot me naked,” I offered with a shameless grin. “Like one of those Sports Illustrated Body editions.” I held up my finger. “As long as no one sees the goods.”
“Are you serious?” she sputtered.
“As a heart attack. Come on, Evangeline. Trust me.” I held out my hand.
She took the first step. “And no one sees the pictures but me?”
“And me,” I clarified.
Another step. “They’re not going to end up on some website—”
“I’m not a revenge porn kind of guy, and you know me better than that.” I didn’t move, didn’t look away. I simply stood on the landing of the steps and waited for her to make her decision.
“Only if you take them in good lighting.” She slipped the camera strap over her head and handed me the equipment.
I smiled and she gasped.
“I’ve never seen you smile like that,” she whispered.
“Guess you make me happy.” I shrugged and held out my other hand, lacing her fingers with mine. “I have the perfect lighting.” I walked us up into my bedroom. “Nothing happens in here without your complete, wholehearted enthusiasm. One no from you and it stops.”
She nodded, and I led her across the threshold, dropping her hands once we were inside. While she took in the spacious room and its heavy, dark furniture, I hit the button on the remote I kept on the nightstand, and the roman shades rose on the eight-foot windows that lined my bedroom, looking out over the greenspace behind our housing development and flooding my bedroom with late afternoon sunlight.
