Twisted Love (Modern Romance #3) - Piper Lawson Page 0,40

he'd drag me into a dark corner and do dark things to me.

But we can’t have the kind of relationship I’ll admit to craving when it’s late and I’m alone.

He thinks he knows me, but if he knows everything, he’ll decide I’m not enough. He’ll take the hole Vi left in my chest, the one that’s mostly healed, and drive a truck through it.

The man occupying way too much of my brain hangs up and spots me watching, then he starts my way. By the time Ben comes up to me, we’re alone, Camila back with Aiden.

“How’s it going?” he asks.

“Good, I think."

The photographer comes over and shows me some of the shots.

Ben dutifully inspects the images. “I never understood why people get married."

“Having someone with you always, someone you let in and trust, doesn’t appeal to you in the slightest?” I ask.

“I trust you.”

My heart skips. “It’s not the same. When you want to spend your life with someone… they’re your other. Not only your default plans when you come home from a trip, they’re the one you race home to because you can’t wait to tell them about it. Because there’s no one else you want to be with.”

He grimaces. “Pretty words, and the dangerous thing is we want to believe them.” His voice is low, a whisper over the breeze. “Love only sticks around for the pictures. That's why people take them—because after that, all bets are off.”

The ache low in my stomach is for him—the boy he was, the man he is. I want to show him all kinds of love can be lasting, meaningful.

“Relationships start to feel heavy if you’re the only one carrying them,” I murmur, thinking of his family and what he did to hold them together. “I promise, I will always fight for you. And for us.”

He brushes hair out of my face, his gaze searching mine.

“Oooh, I love that.” The photographer’s voice cuts into my haze. The next second, the clicking of camera does too. “Let’s get some options we can show the bride and groom.”

“I’m not dressed for this side of the camera.” I force myself to relax as she moves around us.

"You look great." Ben's appreciative gaze runs down my body and back up.

My hands find his biceps. "You don't look so bad yourself."

“This is good," the photographer insists, humming her approval. "Can you kiss?”

I’m so caught off guard, I can’t look anywhere else, especially when his hands tighten around me. His mouth is right there…

Ben replies without breaking my gaze. "The last time I kissed her in public, she was pissed for days."

I don't know if it's the sun breaking through the clouds or the breeze in my hair or the fact that I'm so close to everything I want that I can taste it. But I take Ben's face in my hands, his clean-shaven jaw at odds with his wild eyes, and whisper, "You’re full of shit."

His smirk has me tingling—everywhere. "You love it."

“Gorgeous.”

I barely hear the photographer.

I want to tug him down to me. To brush my lips over his. To pretend this beautiful place is for us and us alone.

“Now that’s how you do a photo shoot.”

Richard's voice has Ben looking up. I reluctantly follow his gaze.

We exchange pleasantries before I watch the photographer show the couple some of our poses. I’m hyperaware of Ben's presence at my side the entire time as Ben addresses Richard. "I appreciate you extending the invitation."

"Not at all. It's a pleasure to have you here. Your reputation precedes you. You'll be running the East Coast venture scene in no time."

Ben pulls me closer. "It's her you're lucky to have. I’ve seen a lot of bootstrapped companies in Manhattan, more entrepreneurs than I can count.” His eyes shine with warmth, with pride. “She’s one in a million.”

If there’s a response to that other than melting, I have no idea what it is.

When Richard departs with the couple and the photographer, I turn back to Ben.

“How’d I do?” he murmurs.

Before he can react, I press up on my toes and slide my lips over his. He’s warm and firm, his mouth parting in surprise. He lets me in, from shock or something else. When I pull back, his eyes are darker than they were a moment ago.

“You’re wrong,” I murmur.

His voice is a rasp, his heart thudding beneath my hand. “About what?”

“Sometimes love sticks around after the pictures.”

13

“You look troubled.” One of the bride’s friends offers a smile as I look