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“All you have to do is just lie there and look like the goddess you are.” I slide out of the bed and pull on my supposedly ridiculous monogrammed underwear, then pad downstairs to my briefcase. I grab my camera, flick it on, and rush back upstairs.
She hasn’t moved, but she’s watching me suspiciously.
“Don’t worry, Jazz. I just want… I want to be able to remember this when I’m on tour.”
“I’m not giving you any naked pictures.”
“I just want your face in the shot.” I go to the window, tugging the curtains to the side.
She grimaces, covering her eyes as she lets out a sexy little groan.
I laugh, climbing onto the bed and kneeling next to her, bringing the camera up to my face. I snap a dozen photos of her just like that, her dark hair against the white pillows.
With sleep-filled eyes, she stares back at the lens then looks away, catching the early morning sun on the perfect angles of her face.
My heart thumps as I flick through the photos on the screen.
“So? How do they look?”
“Perfect,” I answer, flicking the camera off.
“Hey! You’re not even going to show me? I thought the whole point was to show me what a goddess I am.”
“The whole point was for me to have something to remember this morning with while I’m away for the next ten weeks,” I grin. “There are other ways I can treat you like a goddess.” I place the camera to the side and flick the sheets away, spread her legs, and devour her.
Her protests turn to moans, and within minutes Jazz’s thighs are clamping the sides of my head. Will I ever tire of hearing her moan my name?
I doubt it.
When she goes limp, I lie down beside her and let my hands drift over her skin.
A thin sheen of sweat blankets her, and she shakes her head with a sigh. “Silas, I don’t know how you do that, but…I approve.”
I laugh. “I’m glad.”
We spend the next hour kissing, then showering, then snuggling into each other as we make breakfast in her kitchen. I can’t keep my hands off her. They drift over her hips, slide over her shoulders, tangle into her hair. I inhale her, needing to commit every detail to memory. After breakfast, while her hands are sudsy from the dishes, I find myself tearing another googly-eyed package open, bending her over the edge of the sink, and reveling in every feral grunt that falls from her lips. This woman is pure perfection.
When it’s finally time to leave, I try to keep the sadness at bay. I let my lips curl into a smile, even though all I want to do is say fuck it and stay here. “I’ll call you tonight.”
“Okay,” Jazz answers, and I’m relieved she doesn’t protest.
“If you want me to fly you back out, just say the word.”
“I’m not sure that would be appropriate.”
“Fuck appropriate.”
Jazz laughs, sliding her fingers over my cheeks and pulling me down for a kiss. “I’m trying not to think about what’s going on between us, but we’ll have some things to figure out when you get back.”
“All I know is I want to figure it out, Jazz. What we have deserves a chance.”
She nods, her voice choked when she answers. “Okay.”
With one more kiss, I take my things and head out the door. As I walk away, a deep sense of dread starts to weigh me down. Every step is harder than the last. Every inch of distance between us feels like a death sentence.
I don’t want to go back, but I know I have to. I just hope Jazz will be here when I return.
21
