Crush - Kelsie Rae Page 0,54
justice.”
My confusion vanishes in an instant and is replaced by a lust so thick that I’m positive I’ll drown in it. The photo album is filled with image after image of Marcy Holden looking like a damn sex kitten. My eyes eat up every curve, devouring the sensual photos like a starving man. Marcy in a bubble bath. Marcy tangled in her sheets. Marcy with a sexy smirk that has me begging to know what she was thinking when the image was taken. Black lingerie. Red lingerie. No lingerie. My thumb keeps swiping left and right before remembering that I’m on a damn airplane and can’t exactly lay Marcy down and ravage her the way I desperately want.
Practically swallowing my tongue, I shift in my seat to cover my throbbing erection and keep my voice low as I ask, “Did you take these?”
“Yup.” She tries to sound confident, but I can practically hear her insecurities ringing like an alarm.
I tear my gaze away from the hottest pictures I’ve ever seen and look at the starring model beside me. “When?”
“A while ago.”
“For who?” I challenge, my blood boiling with jealousy.
Her white teeth dig into her lower lip to contain her smile, but it’s a fruitless effort. “Are you jealous?”
“Do I have a reason to be? These pictures, Marce, they’re what wet dreams are made of, and the idea of you showing them to a random guy….” My jaw tightens until I’m positive I’ve cracked a molar.
She rolls her eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal. I’ve done a ton of boudoir sessions for women and loved how confident they always felt after looking at the finished pictures. I wanted to see what all the fuss was about, so I set up a tripod and went to work.”
“So, you didn’t do this for a guy?”
“I mean….” she pauses before raising one shoulder. “Not a particular guy. But you know how online dating works, right?”
Another low growl escapes me, but she ignores it and orders, “ Keep scrolling. You might even run into one that looks familiar.”
Curious, my thumb glides across the screen at double time before I drop my head back and laugh. Hard.
“This is the unamused picture you sent after our first date.”
“Sure is. You weren’t really talking to me, so I decided to send you a picture from my naughty album, and this was the one I landed on.”
“I’m not sure I’d classify it as a naughty picture. You’re fully clothed. When the hell would you use this while sexting?”
Her face heats as she whispers, “When the guy sends a less-than-impressive and/or unwarranted dick pic.”
“You’re joking.”
“I’m definitely not.”
“So, that’s a real thing? Guys sending unsolicited dick pics to strangers on the internet?”
“Yup. All the time, my friend. All the time.”
I’m glad I’m not a woman who has to put up with that shit.
Scrolling back to where I’d initially left off, I continue appreciating the goddess beside me. “You look incredible, Marce.”
She shakes off the compliment. “Meh. Photoshop can work miracles.”
“I’ve seen the real thing, remember? I can attest to the accuracy of these pictures.”
“It’s been over two months since you saw the real thing. Pretty sure your memory is flawed.”
I bite my tongue to stop from arguing with her when I know it’ll be pointless unless I can come up with a concept she’d understand. We haven’t had sex since the night I screwed up, and I don’t blame her for wanting to take things slow. Even though it’s been absolute torture to dance around being able to claim her while having to keep her at arm’s length in hopes of not scaring her away.
I wasn’t kidding when I said I wanted to give this thing a real shot. Even if we both have to take it slow for our own personal reasons.
Still, I hate how insecure she feels about herself. It guts me. Turning off the screen on her phone, I rest it in my lap and search for a way to convince her of the truth.
She’s gorgeous.
“Do you remember when you were showing me the pictures of Zion National Park in your office?”
“Yeah?”
“Do you remember why you told me you loved it so much? Taking pictures?”
Her lips stay tightly closed, but I can see the spark in her eyes. She recognizes where I’m going with this.
“Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. Isn’t that right, Marcy?”
“Ben––”
I cut her off. “I promise you that I think you’re breathtaking. I’m just glad that these pictures”––I wave her phone