She sighed. It was all great, no matter how sore and tired she got. They were both exhausted, having hardly slept for the four fantasy nights they’d shared.
“I should get back to it.” He pulled himself up to a sit.
“You sound like you’re on duty. We don’t need security at the center. Rest a while. You’re tired.” She patted the bed.
He struggled with something inside him—more rules, no doubt—but finally fell back on the bed. “I just can’t leave you alone,” he said, sounding sad about it.
“I don’t want you to.” She pulled him close behind her for a cuddle. She knew she shouldn’t say that or feel this way. Far too cozy and comfortable for a fantasy lover.
Definitely against her own rules.
“You feel good in my arms,” he said. “Maybe I’ll just rest my eyes for a few.”
She smiled and held his arms across her breasts. Before long, she felt him go heavy in sleep. And she just held on, happy to have him wrapped around her, happy to have him stay all night. Another rule out the window.
Samantha opened her eyes to morning light spilling through her sheers, the sweet aroma of an ice-cream parlor filling the air, and Rick’s body spooned around hers.
She waited for panic or regret to take over, but it didn’t. She liked that he’d spent the night. She liked that their bodies were glued together by sweat and sticky butterscotch. She felt close to him. She felt right.
She lifted her arm from where it stuck to the pillowcase and licked off the butterscotch streak.
Her movement disturbed Rick, who twitched, then gasped and jerked up, as if he had to run somewhere fast. He saw her and relaxed back to the mattress. “Hey, beautiful.” His smile reached all the way to his green eyes. So appealing. Thrilling, really, that she’d gotten past Rick’s cool barriers and reached him.
They’d reached each other, truth be told. He was a wonderful lover, as in tune with her body as the lub-lub of her own heart, but it was more than that. In his arms, Samantha felt understood, valued, almost adored.
It was wonderful.
She might be falling in love with him. It certainly wasn’t her plan, but she felt too good to give herself a hard time about it. She basked in the smile he saved for just her and looked deeply into his eyes. There was only a faint mysterious shadow left in their green depths. She’d figure that out soon enough.
“What time is it?” she asked him, not moving to check the clock.
He lifted his wrist so they could both see his watch.
“Still early…good,” she said. “I’m too tired to jump up.”
“Me, too,” he said, groaning. “What have you done to me?”
“It’s exhausting living a double life, isn’t it? Ordinary photographers by day, secret fantasy lovers by night.” She laughed, but he didn’t.
After a strained pause, he said, “Yeah, a double life is exhausting.” Something bothered him about that, but she wasn’t about to let him go moody on her.
“It’s bad enough that my real life is secret from my parents.”
“What do you mean? You aren’t obligated to explain your sex life to your folks, you know.”
“They don’t know about Bedroom Eyes.”
“Why not?”
“Because they’d be shocked. They’d think what I do is pornographic.” She cringed just picturing their reaction. “They think I just take regular portraits.”
“So explain it to them like you did to me.”
“They’d never understand.”
“If it makes you uncomfortable, take more regular portraits, Samantha.”
“What are you saying?” She rose on her elbow. “You know why I do what I do.”
“Why limit yourself? Plans change. People change.” His eyes burned with emotion and she realized he was talking about more than photography. “Sometimes what people want changes.”
He was talking about her, about them together.
The idea tugged at her, but it also scared her, made her feel pulled under and lost. Was she falling for the first guy she had great sex with? That seemed so small town.
“Not for me,” she said firmly. “What I want hasn’t changed.” She had to stick to her goals. She couldn’t let this new glory change everything, no matter how powerful it was.
She caught the hurt that flared in Rick’s face before he covered it with his neutral mask. His eyes swirled cool, nature’s shining green fading to a sad olive. And she felt an answering pain deep inside, as if she’d said no to something big and important.
She had to get past the moment, ease the tension. She noticed a streak of chocolate on his jawline and ran her tongue along it. “Mmm. There’s whipped cream in the kitchen….”