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He had a whole fucking darkroom set up for this. He took photos, so why couldn’t I?
I liked it too.
Cook grabbed my hand, his fingers encompassing my own. Iloved to be touched by him again—craved more of his touch. Even as my sex yawned, I wondered if he knew how my body reacted to his. Especially when he didn’t wear a shirt. No feelings like this had ever consumed me before.
Why now?
I couldn’t confuse things, though. He didn’t like what I’d done with the photos.
When I tried to pull back, he held me firm.
“Maddie, your photos are amazing,” he said, confusion leaking into his voice. It made his words sound like a lie.
I didn’t believe him. These weren’t gifts but offerings for something different. I didn’t like this. Didn’t want this fancy thing.
“Maddie, eyes on me,” he ordered.
Grinding my teeth, I raised my head to meet his gaze. However, a weight did shift off my shoulders when he used that line. My body reacted, but the tension rolled away. It was like the chains that bound me had been cut.
“Your photos are works of art,” repeated Cook, his voice low. “Digital photography is really no different than film. You just get to skip the darkroom.”
“What if I don’t want to?”
He scowled. “You’ll be awesome at both, but I thought it would be easier for you. I can see you don’t like it, so I’ll take the lens back.” He grabbed one box from my hands.
I didn’t want to play with digital photography.The darkroom, close to Cook with him teaching me, had been beautiful. I wanted us pressed together as we studied the film and chose the best pictures.
“Keep the phone, though,” he said, “even if you don’t use the camera. It’ll be good for you to have.”
I gulped, and it must’ve been audible because Cook peeked over his shoulder at me. Heat bloomed on my cheeks, like I was a teenage girl with a crush. Slowly, I stood. My knees nearly buckled under my weight.
“Do you want something to eat?” I asked. He stood between me and the kitchen. My stomach grumbled for food, but my sex stillcraved him.
As if he knew what my body was going through, he appraised me. His nose twitched like a dog on its prey’s tail. I bit my bottom lip, wishing those eyes were on a different part of my body. Wishing that nose was buried deep in my slit.
“Are you hungry?” I asked, stepping toward him, not referring to food at all.
I raised my hips and pulled back my shoulders. Bou’s old tank top pulled up my lower belly. It was a shame I was wearing pajama pants too, but I would gladly drop them if he gave me the word.
Stopping in front of Cook, I tipped my head back to meet his hardened gaze. He looked down at me over the tip of his nose, exposing the whites of his eyes. For a brief second, I was sure I had fucked up. I shouldn’t be doing this—he didn’t want me—but I still tasted him on my lips. His eyes were narrowed on my face, but then his gaze dipped lower. My chest. My breasts.
I stepped closer, and my hard nipples grazed his skin. He hissed in a breath and released it slowly. The hot exhale scorched my face. This was my challenge to him. Would he fucking take it already?!
Reaching up, I grabbed the back of his neck and planted my lips on his. An immediate burst of pleasure rolled through me. He tasted savory and smoky, leaving my stomach grumbling. My pussy leaked, readying herself for his cock. The bulge pressed into my stomach.
He wanted me as much as I wanted him, so why did he keep the distance between us? I tightened my grip around his neck, holding him against me, refusing to let go.
His cock twitched, rubbing against me. I was more than willing to be the siren to pull it from the depth of his blue pants.
I slipped my tongue into his mouth like he’d showed me in the darkroom, parting his lip and ramming straight into his clamped teeth. The man was built like an unmovable boulder.
Suddenly, Cook jerked his head back. He placed his hands on my shoulders and shoved me away. I stumbled back but caught myself on the counter before falling. How he had held onto me with my body away from his would leave marks on my skin for at least a little bit, but that pain was too mild to faze me. He’d have to do a lot worse after all I had lived through.
Standing slack jawed, Cook stared at me. Red crept across his chest and up his neck. I wanted to nibble on the soft, tender skin and feel his cock inside me.
“We shouldn’t—” Cook stopped himself, but I recognized the hunger and the longing.
I moved and his hands released me. Grabbing at the hem of my tank top, I made to yank it over my head, but he grabbed my hands, locking them to my sides.
