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Part of me wants to explain further, but I’m coming off a high, and the thought of getting that real, even if it’s with Bex, makes me nervous.
She continues to trace the lines of my tattoo. “Your brother has the same one.”
“Yeah. Seb too. We got them together a couple summers ago.”
“It looks familiar,” she says. “What is it?”
“It’s the Celtic knot. You know, Callahan. Irish roots.”
“It looks good on you.” She kisses it softly. “I know I didn’t want to stay over last time. But you will, right?”
I kiss her cheek before saying, “Show me your photography.”
She blinks, eyes widening. “If you really want?”
I hold her gaze. “I do. I was going to ask before, but full disclosure, I was too fucking hard.”
She bursts out laughing, slipping out of bed, and grabs a folder from the desk. She settles back against me, and I wrap my arm around her middle. I’m grinning; I love making her laugh.
“I’ve been taking some portraits of the diner patrons, that’s always good practice. And I’ve been looking at angles in architecture,” she says.
I stroke her arm. “Let me see them.”
She opens the folder, which I see now is filled with proofs. “I have more on my computer, obviously,” she says. “Printing is expensive. But it’s helpful to see what the vibe of the physical photo is like, you know?”
“No,” I admit, which makes her laugh. “But I love hearing you talk about it.”
We flip through the stack slowly. She explains how she took each one, and I think I ask semi-intelligent questions, because Iget her rambling about stuff like aperture and white balance and bokeh. It’s adorable, even when she gets overly excited and accidentally elbows me in the face.
“Crap,” she says, turning my face from side to side. “Are you okay?”
“Just fine,” I lie, kissing her. In truth, she’s stronger than she looks, because my cheek is stinging. “Tell me about this one.”
I point to a photograph of somewhere I recognize; it’s the great hall in McKee’s library. The table looks familiar, because it’s the one we sit at when we go there to study. My laptop is open on the table next to hers; our jackets hang on the backs of two chairs.
She blushes, tracing over the photograph. “I took it when you went to go call your sister.”
I snort as the memory comes back to me. “She was afraid she accidentally ate a pot brownie.”
“Did she?”
“Honestly, I’m still not sure. Coop thinks she did.” I hold up the photograph. Seeing evidence of our time together makes me feel warm inside, like I just drank a huge gulp of hot cider. “You’re seriously talented.”
“Do you want it?” She ducks her gaze down. “I mean, if you want it, you can have it.”
“Not like this.”
She looks up, hurt flashing on her face momentarily.
I kiss it away quickly. “Princess, you need to sign it for me first.”
She practically throws the photography on her nightstand, climbing into my lap. My hands grip the backs of her thighs automatically, groaning when she presses open-mouthed kisses to my throat.
“Can you go again?” she says breathlessly, rubbing her cheekagainst mine as she grinds down in my lap. “Want to ride your cock.”
And again, I can’t say no. Not to her. There’s nowhere I’d rather be right now than in her bed, watching her bounce on my dick in my jersey. I bring my hands up, massaging her firm ass. “As long as you let me eat your pretty pussy after.”
Chapter 23
