Page 46 of Dirty Shots

Anya squeezed her eyes shut as her second orgasm of the hour began to build.

“Look at me,” Eric commanded. “Look at me.”

She didn’t dare refuse. She opened her eyes and locked her gaze with his, intense, dark, smoldering. His jaw was locked, an almost angry expression on his face as he focused only on her.

“Ah, fuck.” And he exploded inside her, keeping that eye contact. She came as well, crying out this time, not caring how loud she was.

Spent, he slid down onto the couch beside her, pulling her into his arms, so she lay with her head on his chest, one leg slung over his. His mouth pressed against the top of her head, his breath heating her scalp.

Her body relaxed in a way it hadn’t for the whole of that day. There was no place she’d rather be than held in his arms, their bodies sated. They were enclosed within a bubble of intimacy she didn’t want to break out of.

Eric was the first to speak. “Did you mean what you said about going ahead with the exhibition?”

She nodded against him. “Yes. I wouldn’t have said it if I didn’t mean it.”

“I just thought because of the moment—”

“Perhaps it wasn’t the best time to tell you, but it just came out. Everything both you and Logan said, about me needing to consider my future and about my parents finding out eventually anyway. I’m an adult, I can do what I want. I don’t think they’ll be happy about it by any stretch of the imagination, but I need to be true to myself.”

“Thank you. I know that decision was really hard for you.”

“The decision was the easy part. It’s facing my parents that’s going to be the difficult part.” She fell silent for a moment, wanting to ask him something, and trying to build up the nerve. She had to ask. If she was going to tell her parents she’d been modeling for erotic shoots, and they were going to be put on display for all of New York’s artistic community to see, then she could sure as hell ask Eric this one small thing.

She took a breath and sat up a little so she could look him in the eyes.

“Will you come with me when I go to tell them?”

He nodded. “Of course I will, Anya. I’d love to meet your parents.”

Her heart did a little leap in her chest. The way he’d said it was as if they were a real couple, and he was meeting them as a suitor. She’d only really expected him to think he was coming along as the photographer of the artwork, not that she was going to introduce him as her boyfriend. She loved that he wanted to meet them, but the circumstances were far from perfect. Would they be in awe that they were in Eric’s presence? She doubted it. It wouldn’t surprise her if her father grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her away from him.

Sudden paranoia filled her. Perhaps he hadn’t been meaning that at all, and she’d misunderstood him. What if he expected to go purely as the photographer, and she introduced him as her boyfriend? She would just about die if he corrected her.

She hadn’t wanted to discuss their relationship, but she felt she had no other choice. Whichever way she went, she could get it wrong and either embarrass or insult one or the other of them.

“Eric,” she said, tentatively. “When you meet my parents, do you want me to tell them that we’re ...” She didn’t want to use the word ‘boyfriend,’ feeling like the term was more for young, student couples than a professional man of his stature. “Lovers,” she finished.

“I hope we’re more than that, Anya,” he said, his tone soft. “There’s no one else for me. Of course, I don’t know about you—”

“No, no,” she interrupted. “Of course there isn’t.” She smiled; she couldn’t help herself. He’d told her she was the only one. “Anyway, I spend all my time with you. I don’t have time to meet anyone else.”

He became rough, playful, grabbing her, dragging her back down to the couch so his body was hovered above hers. “And that’s just the way I plan on keeping things.”

Even as he kissed her, she couldn’t stop smiling.

***

She opened her eyes tosoft, morning light and the shape of a man standing, his broad back to her, in the corner of the room. He bent to tug on a pair of sneakers, and she smiled, taking the moment to admire the taut curves of his ass beneath the running shorts.

“I hope you’re not leaving me.”

He turned at the sound of her voice, a smile on his chiseled face. Just the sight made her heart flutter, her stomach doing a not-unpleasant flip-flop.

“It’s six thirty,” he told her, striding across the room to pause at the edge of the bed. “I need to get to the gym.”

She returned the smile and tugged back the covers, exposing the now cooling side of the bed he’d only just vacated. “I can give you a workout.”

He bent, his hand raking through her blonde hair, tightening in the base, at the nape of her neck, to force her face to his as he kissed her on the mouth. He released her and straightened.

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