Behind His Lens(55)

He looks up at my thoughtfully, “Thanks for telling me.”

“Do you like knowing they all find you attractive?” A small smile skims across my lips.

He shakes his head and he stands to put his empty plate and silverware back into the brown paper to-go bag. “It sort of makes me more uncomfortable than anything else. But their opinions don’t matter to me.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. There’s only one person whose opinion I would care to know.”

“Well you don’t have to worry. I’m sure your mom thinks you’re handsome, Jude.” I smile wide at my cheeky comment, knowing he’ll bite back.

He leans back in his chair, folding his hands over what I know to be a very toned stomach. “You’re funny, Charley. But I think you’re avoiding answering my question.”

“You expect me to lay all my cards out on the table?” I stand and fold up the rest of the trash before carting the paper bag over toward the door. When I’m done, I bypass the table and sit on the edge of the bed.

He shrugs, “I think it’s fair. I’ve been honest with you thus far.”

“Yes,” I answer simply, folding my legs so that I sit with them criss-crossed on top of the comforter.

“Yes?” he asks, standing from his chair and walking toward me.

My pulse spikes as he approaches and I wet my lips instinctively. “Jude, you can’t honestly be that obtuse. Yes, I find you really freaking attractive.” I fold my hands in between my legs, watching a possessive smile take over his features, transforming him into the sexiest man I’ve ever seen.

“Uggh,” I sigh, splaying back onto the bed.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Jude

“Well that wasn’t so hard now was it? It’s the least you could do after I brought you dinner.”

She leans up, bending her arm, and rests her head on the palm of her hand. I mirror her actions so that we’re laying down facing each other. “I really do appreciate you feeding me,” she offers with a timid smile.

“I was happy for the company.”

We lay in silence, soaking in the moment, testing the waters of what could happen next.

“What time are you going to sleep?”

She twists her neck to look at the ornate clock decorating her nightstand. “I probably can stay up for another thirty minutes, but then I need to be out like a light or you’ll be whining about a model with bags under her eyes tomorrow morning.”

“Never,” I protest, taking in those gorgeous eyes now. I’d never complain about something that brings me so much joy.

“What are you thinking?” she asks dreamily.

“I was wondering how long I got to keep you,” I answer honestly. The way I say “keep you” sounds more possessive than I meant it to, but when I see her plump lips part for a gentle inhale and her eyes dilate with arousal, I know she likes the idea as much as I do.

Oh, sweet girl. If I could take you now, I would. But thirty minutes is not enough time.

She’s quiet for a few moments after that, trying to tamper the desire that’s so easily read across her features. I watch her twirl the soft duvet cover around her finger. “Wouldn’t it be nice if we were here for vacation and not for work?”

I smile. “I don’t think you would have let me sweep you away to Hawaii on any other pretense.”

“There is a photo shoot, right?” she teases.

I laugh before shrugging playfully and narrowing my eyes. “That information is classified, Ms. Whitlock.”

After she’s laughed herself out, I scoot an inch closer so that we’re only a foot or so away from each other. “Have you ever been to Hawaii?”

She shakes her head and her gaze falls on the wall behind me as memories cloud her expression.

“No. My mom always preferred Aspen or Europe. She wasn’t a beach kind of lady.” She wrinkles her nose. “Too much sand.”

I reach out and twirl my finger on the back of her hand that rests on the bed between us. She doesn’t pull away, but her eyes linger on my touch with a soft focus. “That’s a shame. Europe is beautiful, but you seem like you belong on the beach as well.”

She smiles wide, “I do. I love the water and the sun. I could sit out in the sun for hours.”

I let my finger glide up over her delicate wrist and then slowly up her arm. “You’re already radiant, but once you catch some sun tomorrow, you’ll be glowing,” I say admiringly, letting my hand pause at the top of her sleeve. She scoots a few inches closer to me, and I take the invitation to run my hands under the cotton shirt. Her skin is so soft, so inviting, that my hand feels as if it travels on its own accord, trying to get its fill of her.