Sinful Love (Sinful Nights #4)(50)

Her eyes met the lens, as if she were able to peer behind it to see him. Even though he was the one with the camera, somehow he felt studied at the same damn time. She was so f*cking knowing, observant through her bones, down to her marrow, even when being photographed. Those green irises held him captive as she gazed at him, taking her time undressing, pushing the denim of her jeans down one hip, then the other, giving him a strip show.

She wiggled her eyebrows. Licked her lips.

His chest rumbled as his dick hardened. “That’s what I was talking about earlier. You enjoying yourself.”

“I am.”

“I want you to enjoy yourself with me.”

“I do.” She let her jeans fall to the floor. She stood in her black bra and panties, and he snapped an image of that, too, as his skin grew hotter and desire flashed inside him.

“You like it when I take your picture?”

She nodded.

“Then lie back on the bed. Hair on the pillow. That’s one of my favorite looks of yours. All those crazy red strands spilling across the white pillowcase.”

“Tell me why you like that,” she said, scooting back on the bed, assuming the pose.

“Because you’re vulnerable and raw. Because you look real, and sexy, and you look like you want me.”

She swallowed, and he snapped quickly, cataloguing her reactions. “I do want you.”

“Let yourself want me,” he said quietly, capturing more as she reached to unhook her bra, then more as her breasts spilled free.

“Fuck,” he muttered, his erection straining against his jeans. “So f*cking turned on. Can’t concentrate on the picture.”

“Don’t concentrate. Just shoot,” she said, as she tucked her thumbs into her underwear, and he hit the button again, his length thickening as a heavy need thrummed in him. The need to have her. To take her.

She pushed down her panties, revealing the soft auburn landing strip. His mouth watered. He wanted to rub his face against it, to feel her slickness on his jaw. To taste her heat on his tongue. He groaned but somehow managed to click again and again, as she skimmed off her panties and lay naked on a hotel bed.

“Open your legs,” he instructed.

She raised her knees, and let them fall open.

Gripping the camera harder, he swallowed thickly. Her * was so f*cking pretty, so goddamn ready for him. “Don’t let anyone else ever take your picture like this,” he said, as possessiveness stormed through him. He hated the thought of anyone ever seeing these photos, let alone seeing her naked. Thank God the pictures were on her camera, which meant they’d be safe where they belonged.

“Never,” she said in a heated whisper. “No one ever has,” she added. “This is only for you.”

He inhaled sharply, her meaning registering. She was giving him something her husband had never had. Something that was a first.

Now.

Fucking now.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

In a flash, he set the camera on the bureau, and unbuttoned his shirt.

With her index finger, she beckoned him. He recorded that image in his mind—her calling him to her side. Him heeding her wish. He’d play those few seconds over and over again. The story of his heart, given long ago, only to her. “Come to me,” she said. “Join me. Fuck me like you wanted to when you were taking the pictures.”

He shoved off his jeans. “On your stomach then,” he said, and didn’t take his eyes off her as she flipped to her belly. With her cheek pressed to the pillow, she watched him. Watched him as he stripped off his boxers and as he reached to stroke his cock, hissing in a breath because it felt so f*cking good to touch himself as she stared, her eyes flaming with lust. But something else, too. Longing, desire, and also a new kind of freedom, it seemed. Like she was finally letting herself feel everything.

She lifted her rear, inviting him home.

“You,” he gritted out as he climbed on the bed and brought his dick to her ass, rubbing it against the soft flesh of her rear. She moaned, rising up into him as his hard length slid between her cheeks, like a filthy tease of what he wanted to do to her someday. She pushed back, and he filed that reaction away in the dirty vault to bring out again when they were both ready. For now, he moved lower, gliding the head of his dick against her heat. Fuck, she was slick and wet, and so damn ready for him. Her soft velvet folds were like a beacon, and his dick pointed its way home.

“I want you so much. I love wanting you. It feels so good,” she said, her eyes on his, and he fell even harder for her as she let herself open up to him, and to pleasure, and to this chance to feel again, to live again, and hell, he hoped maybe, just maybe, to love again. He covered her with his body, and she let out the sexiest purr, then the most intoxicating moan as he pushed the head of his dick into her slippery sweet entrance. He sank inside in one slow, deep, decadent move. So snug—so f*cking perfect for him. They moaned in unison. She fit him deliciously, and he couldn’t imagine not having her like this.

“Did you like it when I took your picture?” he asked once he was fully nestled in her.

“God, yes,” she panted.

He pushed deeper. “Why? Why did you like it so much?”

She moaned. “Because I love being naked with you. I love being with you. You make me feel so good.”

“Just let me make you feel this way. Let me.”