Connected (Connections, #1)(98)

We make our way to the room, and I somehow manage to open the door. As we enter, I shove her dress down, and it immediately falls to the ground. Fuck, she isn’t wearing a bra either. Inhaling deeply, I step back to just look at her. She’s standing in front of me in her f*ck-me boots and pearls only. I really want to take a picture of her. I know I’ll never forget her image like this, right now, but I want to be able to see her whenever she’s not with me.

She stands there watching me watch her. I see her breath picking up as she runs her fingers through her hair.

I take another step back and glance around the room. “Champagne? I ask pointing to the bottle chilling on the table near the window and the bowl of strawberries next to it.

“Absolutely,” she says, standing there biting her lip.

Walking over to where the bottle is, I pop the cork and pour us a glass, adding two strawberries to hers. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure, anything,” she answers, and I love that she feels completely comfortable with her body around me.

“Can I take your picture?” I’m a little nervous asking because I really have no idea what she will say, other than calling me a pervert probably.

She slowly walks over to me and takes the glass of champagne I put the two strawberries in. She takes the berry I pushed onto the rim, dips it in the liquid, and bites it. “Maybe we can barter?”

Swallowing at the sight of her, all of my nervousness is gone instantly.

I take another berry from the bowl, dip it into her glass, and press it to her lips. “Oh yeah. What did you have in mind?”

“I want a picture too.”

Furrowing my brow, I ask, “You want a naked picture of me in pearls and boots?”

Giggling, she says, “No, silly. I want a picture of you . . .” She sets her glass down and quickly unbuttons my shirt, tossing it aside. “Wearing only your jeans and . . .”

Moving my mouth to hers, I lick the champagne off her lips. “And?”

“Your picture first,” she says, sucking on my bottom lip before moving back.

Shrugging my shoulders, I reach into my front pocket and pull out my phone. The ‘Touch Me’ pick is in there as well. I smile as I pull it out. “I’ll save this for later,” I say, raising the tab before placing it on the table.

She starts to make all sorts of absurd poses, and I pretend to be a fashion photographer telling her what to do. We do this for at least five minutes as her poses go from nice to naughty, and my horny meter rises off the charts from the site of her in just those boots and her beautiful pearls.

“Okay play time is over. Time for the real picture.”

“Okay, bossy pants,” she says with her hands on her hips. “Where do you want me?”

“Right there,” I point to where she’s standing as I lean over and gently kiss her. “Thank you.”

She gives me a soft smile, and I hit the camera button three times to ensure one of the pictures is good. I scroll to the camera roll and look. “You really are so beautiful Dahlia,” I say, handing her my phone to look.

“I don’t want to see myself naked you pervert,” she quips, and I start full out laughing. I grab our glasses and handing her one, I toast, “Happy Valentine’s Day, beautiful girl.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, River. I love you.”

We both take a sip and I grab another berry from the bowl and dip it in her glass but his time I don’t run it over lips, I trail it down her chest. Then with the tip of my tongue I follow the path I made with the champagne. Her nipples harden instantly as I circle one then the other before sliding my tongue back up her chest, her neck, and to her ear where I whisper, “I want you now.”

“Ah ah ah,” she says, waving her finger at me.

Walking over to the bed where she threw her purse, she pulls out a tube of lipstick and smears it on her lips.

“You don’t need that, you know. It’s not like we’re going anywhere,” I tell her, confused as to why she’d put that stuff on now.

“I know. It’s for my picture.”

“I already took your picture, Dahlia.”

“No silly, the one I’m taking of you.”

“Oh no, I’m not wearing lipstick,” I warn. “That wasn’t part of the deal.”

Walking back over to me with that tube in her hand she says, “Oh you’re wearing it, just not on your lips.”

Standing in front of me, she starts firmly pressing her lips all over my shoulders, chest, and stomach. When she finishes, she pushes me over to the bed. “Lie down.”

“Who’s the bossy one?” I laugh.

She ignores me and grabs for her phone. If I’m lucky, she would have forgot to charge it again. Shit. I guess not. She starts snapping pictures of me.

“I’m not posing,” I say as I just lay on the bed with my hands behind my head.

“Suit yourself.”

I love how easy going she is.

“Done,” she says.

Now, finally we can do what I’ve wanted to do since I saw her in those boots, well actually, what I want to do every time I look at her. And since it’s Valentine’s Day, I’m going to take it slow and make love to this beautiful, fun, sexy, and simply amazing girl.

So with that in mind, I stand up, shove my jeans and boxers off, step out of them as quickly as I can, and tell her, “Good, because I’m not.”