Page 61 of Dirty Shots

Chapter Eighteen

Eric

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Eric woke with a hollowpit in his stomach that for once had nothing to do with emotion. After missing dinner the previous night, and skipping breakfast in favor of a fuck-fest with Anya, they’d now slept way past lunch.

He was ravenous.

Glancing over at Anya, the sight of her still sound asleep made his stomach tighten in a knot. Her blonde hair spread across the pillow, her rose-bud mouth parted slightly as she slept. A flush resided high in her cheeks, but the rest of her skin was creamy. Her long, dark blonde eyelashes lay lightly against her cheek. His heart swelled with joy and he resisted the urge to reach over and crush her in his embrace.

How could something so perfect be his?

Carefully, he slipped out of bed and pulled on a pair of low-slung workout pants that had been lying on the floor. Ruffling his hand through his hair, he padded barefoot, and bare-chested, out of the bedroom and into the kitchen area of his apartment.

His computer and camera sat waiting for him, catching his attention. He hesitated. He desperately wanted to sit down and look back through the photographs he’d taken of Anya that morning. His cock stirred in his pants at the thought, but it wasn’t just a sexual thing. He wanted to check out what his photographs had turned out like for a professional reason.

No, he had to eat. If he sat down at the computer, he would plug the camera in and before long would be scrolling thorough the pictures, studying them, making editing changes. And when he looked up again, hours would have passed and he still wouldn’t have eaten. He was already feeling weak from all the strenuous exercise and the lack of food.

Even though he told himself this in his head, it was still a battle not to walk over and start working.

He closed his eyes on his equipment. During times like this he wished his apartment wasn’t open plan. It would be easier to ignore his work if it wasn’t constantly on display.

Using all of his will, he turned away from the computer and camera, and forced himself into the kitchen. Anya, think of Anya. She would be hungry as well when she woke. She wouldn’t want to see him, weak and wasting away at his computer. The last thing he wanted was to scare her off.

Eric pulled open the refrigerator door, hoping something edible would reside within. His gaze scanned the shelves—eggs, ham, cheese, milk. Yes, he had enough to make an omelet. Perhaps not the most exciting thing in the world, but it was food.

Movement made him look over his shoulder. Anya stood at the kitchen island. She rubbed a hand through her mussed-up hair and yawned. She wore one of his t-shirts which hung mid-thigh. Something stuttered in his chest. She was unbearably cute.

“Morning,” he said with a smile.

She smiled back. “Isn’t it more like afternoon?”

“Yeah, I guess so. Does that mean making you breakfast would be weird?”

She hopped up onto one of the stools. “You’re cooking for me?” Delight was clear in her voice.

“Don’t get too excited,” he warned. “I’m not a great cook, and I’m seriously lacking in anything decent to work with. I’m in desperate need of a trip to the store.”

She shrugged one shoulder, coyly. “The famous Eric Rutherford is cooking me breakfast. Even if you managed to burn me some toast, I would be thrilled.”

He laughed. “I’m sure I can do better than burned toast, but I’m happy you’re keeping your expectations low. Coffee?”

“Now that’s a word I wanted to hear.”

Eric set about filling the percolator and whisking some eggs.

“Anything I can do?” she called.

“Nope. Just sit there and look pretty.”

He glanced over his shoulder as she lifted a handful of her hair and dropped it again. She motioned to his t-shirt which covered her body. “I think I might have my work cut out for me there.”

“Don’t be crazy. You look gorgeous.”

Color flushed in her cheeks.

Eric resisted the urge to storm across the room to her and ravage her on the breakfast island. He didn’t want her to think this was all about sex, or his photography, for that matter. He just wanted to be with her. Being in her company was enough.

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