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I shake my head and get the poles for the tent together. “You worry too much. I’ll protect you.”
“How? I know you’re big, but you’re not bear size.” I hit my chest where my gun sits in my vest, and she gets the message. “Oh. Then I’ll be stuck to you like glue.”
“Fine by me.” I wink.
“If you want to keep things platonic, you need to stop with the winking.”
I wink again and she chuckles, her mood lighter now. Thank God, I hate seeing her stressed out or upset. Even more so when I’m the cause.
She stares at the flowing river and the waterfall. “It is beautiful, I’ll give you that.”
“Amazing what Mother Nature gave us, huh?”
I hammer in the stakes for the tent. When the tent is up, I lay both of our sleeping bags inside. Then I go to work on the fire.
Mandi sits on a rock, observing quietly. “I have to admit, not wanting to get on the whole sexual tension thing again, but watching you work so hard is kind of a turn-on.”
I chuckle. Once the fire is roaring, I grab my camera and sit next to her on the rock. I point the camera at the falls to set up the shots I think will work best.
“What are you doing?”
“I’m cropping out shots, messing with some dials and focus, to get an idea of what picture I want.”
We discuss how it works when I get contracted for work—whether the magazines or online companies ask for a certain picture or if I have some artistic license—and I tell her a bit about some of my favorite jobs that I’ve done. I hand the camera to her, positioning one hand on the focus. I cover her hand with mine and move it around so she can see the difference.
“That’s crazy. What I thought was the perfect picture, you only make sharper. Amazing.” She clicks the camera, then moves so my hand slides off. Then she turns the camera on me. “Tell me, Mr. Winters, what’s it like to be on the other side of the lens?”
I shake my head and hold out my hand.
Snap. The shutter goes off.
“Stop taking pictures of me.” I cover my face with my hands.
“Come on. You’re sexy.” She moves my hand away from my face and squints into the light. She snaps another picture. “I think I like this side of things. I want to be a photographer.”
She stands and focuses the camera down on me, continuing to click the button, picture after picture. Then she moves to the trees—but she hears a sound.
I look over and see a small red fox at the edge of the forest. I stand slowly and get up behind her, placing my hands on the camera again. I don’t have to look to know what will work for the picture.
I whisper in her ear, “Now, we’re going to slowly move the focus in, making things blur around it.”
She inhales.
“Take the picture, Mandi,” I say quietly.
She does, and when she turns my way, our mouths are only millimeters apart. I swallow, wanting so badly to kiss her.
“It’s really cool looking through the lens,” she says, eyes still locked with mine. “All the things you barely notice. The camera has a way of making you notice the little things.”
I take the camera from her hand and place it on my bag. Then I stand back up and weave my fingers through her hair, pulling her mouth to mine.
“I’m sorry, but I can’t resist any longer,” I whisper and capture her lips with mine.
I’m not sure if it was the photography talk or being so close to her again, but I can’t resist the urge to possess her any longer. I need to taste her.
The second our lips touch, my tongue slides along her parted lips, in desperate need of entry. She opens, and the conversations we had earlier fade into the background the longer our tongues learn how to dance together. She twists, and with a push of my hand on her lower back, she’s flush against my body. A strangled moan sounds in her throat and I place my thigh between her legs.
She lightly grinds along on my muscled thigh while her hands cling to my body, gripping my shirt. My mouth leaves hers only to explore her neck.
