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She realized he’d stuck her photos in a passcode protected folder and typed it in. As Trish swiped through the photos, each sexier than the next, Cameron settled next to her and ran his hand down her stomach—avoiding smudging his work—and cupped her pussy. “You’re the beautiful one, Trish.” He kissed her neck as he fucked her slowly, thoroughly, with his fingers. He shifted to see the pictures. “That one’s my favorite.”
In the photo, she had her arms over her head and her legs spread as if she’d just been fucked within an inch of her life. From the angle, she could just make out the slightest glistening of her pussy where she was so wet, she ached for him. The bright pink constellations stood out against her pale skin, turning it from just another sexy-dirty photo into something closer to art.
She lifted her hips to take his fingers deeper. “It’s my favorite, too.” Driven by the knowledge that this might be one of the few things he kept to remember her by once everything was said and done, she flipped back to the camera and took a picture of where his fingers speared her. Don’t forget me, Cam. Don’t forget this.
“Trish—”
“Not yet.” She wasn’t even sure what she denied him, only that nothing good came from Cameron saying her name in that rough tone of voice. A tone that spoke of truths she wasn’t ready to hear.
She pushed him onto his back and straddled his hips. A few seconds later, she had his cock sheathed in a condom, and Trish wasted no time sinking onto him, taking him as deep as she possibly could, until she wasn’t sure where she ended and he began.
She rode him slowly, determined to make this last, to hold out as long as possible. Pleasure built between them, as inexorable as their next heartbeats. The expression on his face was so stark, so possessive, so goddamn hot, she had to close her eyes to keep from coming on the spot.
“Don’t close your eyes, Trish. Don’t shut me out.”
Immediately, she opened them again. Cameron pulled her down to claim her mouth as he rolled them and leveraged her legs wider. He lifted her hips a little as he thrust into her, the new angle bowing her back and drawing a cry from her lips. “Oh God, Cameron.” She gripped his thighs and wrapped her legs around his waist and he leaned back, and he thrust again, hitting the same spot. Her mind went blank and words sprang from her lips, words she had no control over. “OhGoddontstoppleasedontstop. IlovethisIlovethisIlovethisIloveyou. Yesyesyesyesyes.” Another stroke and she was lost. Trish came hard enough that she damn near vibrated out of her skin. “Cameron!”
16
FOREBODING TOOK UP residence in Cameron’s stomach as the plane’s wheels touched down in New York. Their week in London had been as idyllic as possible with Trish, but even at its best, he couldn’t shake the feeling that a sword hung over his neck.
It didn’t help that Trish didn’t seem to realize she’d told him she loved him in a fit of passion—or that she hadn’t repeated the sentiment since.
He gently shook her awake. “We’re here.”
“Already?” She pushed her hair away from her face, but it immediately sprang back into place. “I didn’t expect to sleep so long.”
“You were worn-out.” The truth was, he was worn-out, too. Cameron needed a solid meal and eight hours of sleep and a couple days’ reset before he got his head on straight.
Yeah. Sure. As if that is all it would take.
The ground wouldn’t be solid beneath his feet as long as he stood in the shadow of a future without Trish. They’d promised to talk more specifically about what that might look like once they were back in the city, but as much as he wanted a clear conversation, he couldn’t bring himself to rush it.
Not when he suspected which way it would go.
So he reached out and laced his fingers through hers. “Let’s get dinner.”
She glanced at her phone. “It’s nine in the morning.”
“Breakfast, then. We’re not due back in the office until Monday. Come home with me.” He formed it as a command rather than a request because he had a feeling if Trish thought too hard about it, she’d try to put some distance between them.
Sure enough, she hesitated. “I don’t know... I think my own bed is calling my name.”
“If you fall asleep now, you’re going to have a wicked case of jet lag and you’ll be worthless on Monday.”
She made a face. “I know you’re right, but a contrary part of me wants to dig in my heels just because of how you phrased it.”
“You’re too smart to cut off your nose to spite your face.” He lifted up their entwined hands and kissed her knuckles. “I have an obscenely large tub. I imagine it would feel wonderful to soak out any kinks.”
“Now you’re just not playing fair.” She gave him a mock frown. “Fine. You’ve convinced me—on the condition that you don’t get weird about me doing laundry at your place.”
“Deal.”
She smiled a little. “It’s weird being back, right? All that time in London felt like a dream, and now it’s back to reality.”
“Not yet. Not until Monday.”
Trish hesitated again, but finally nodded. “I seem to remember my boss—he’s kind of a jerk, but he means well—telling me that under no circumstances was I to work on the weekends.”
