Sinful Love (Sinful Nights #4) - Lauren Blakely Page 0,61

Written in her eyes was a mix of emotions—trepidation, courage, excitement, determination…. He tried to capture them all as she tugged her black sweater over her head, then unbuttoned her jeans.

She didn’t pose or mug for the camera. She simply did, and he simply shot.

She reached for the zipper of her jeans and worked it open.

“Mmm. It’s getting harder to concentrate,” he murmured as he snapped a shot of her undressing.

She laughed, and he caught that on film, too. “Harder. Ha ha,” she said with a flirty smile. That was captured for posterity, also—her playful side shining through. He caught every moment of her getting ready for him.

Her eyes met the lens, as if she were able to peer behind it to see him. Even though he was the one with the camera, somehow he felt studied at the same damn time. She was so fucking knowing, observant through her bones, down to her marrow, even when being photographed. Those green irises held him captive as she gazed at him, taking her time undressing, pushing the denim of her jeans down one hip, then the other, giving him a strip show.

She wiggled her eyebrows. Licked her lips.

His chest rumbled as his dick hardened. “That’s what I was talking about earlier. You enjoying yourself.”

“I am.”

“I want you to enjoy yourself with me.”

“I do.” She let her jeans fall to the floor. She stood in her black bra and panties, and he snapped an image of that, too, as his skin grew hotter and desire flashed inside him.

“You like it when I take your picture?”

She nodded.

“Then lie back on the bed. Hair on the pillow. That’s one of my favorite looks of yours. All those crazy red strands spilling across the white pillowcase.”

“Tell me why you like that,” she said, scooting back on the bed, assuming the pose.

“Because you’re vulnerable and raw. Because you look real, and sexy, and you look like you want me.”

She swallowed, and he snapped quickly, cataloguing her reactions. “I do want you.”

“Let yourself want me,” he said quietly, capturing more as she reached to unhook her bra, then more as her breasts spilled free.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his erection straining against his jeans. “So fucking turned on. Can’t concentrate on the picture.”

“Don’t concentrate. Just shoot,” she said, as she tucked her thumbs into her underwear, and he hit the button again, his length thickening as a heavy need thrummed in him. The need to have her. To take her.

She pushed down her panties, revealing the soft auburn landing strip. His mouth watered. He wanted to rub his face against it, to feel her slickness on his jaw. To taste her heat on his tongue. He groaned but somehow managed to click again and again, as she skimmed off her panties and lay naked on a hotel bed.

“Open your legs,” he instructed.

She raised her knees, and let them fall open.

Gripping the camera harder, he swallowed thickly. Her pussy was so fucking pretty, so goddamn ready for him. “Don’t let anyone else ever take your picture like this,” he said, as possessiveness stormed through him. He hated the thought of anyone ever seeing these photos, let alone seeing her naked. Thank God the pictures were on her camera, which meant they’d be safe where they belonged.

“Never,” she said in a heated whisper. “No one ever has,” she added. “This is only for you.”

He inhaled sharply, her meaning registering. She was giving him something her husband had never had. Something that was a first.

Now.

Fucking now.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

In a flash, he set the camera on the bureau, and unbuttoned his shirt.

With her index finger, she beckoned him. He recorded that image in his mind—her calling him to her side. Him heeding her wish. He’d play those few seconds over and over again. The story of his heart, given long ago, only to her. “Come to me,” she said. “Join me. Fuck me like you wanted to when you were taking the pictures.”

He shoved off his jeans. “On your stomach then,” he said, and didn’t take his eyes off her as she flipped to her belly. With her cheek pressed to the pillow, she watched him. Watched him as he stripped off his boxers and as he reached to stroke his cock, hissing in a breath because it felt so fucking good to touch himself as she stared, her eyes flaming with lust. But something else, too. Longing, desire, and also a new kind of freedom, it seemed. Like she was