Page 93 of Dirty Shots

Chapter Twenty-nine

Eric

Eric stood, watching Anya as she finished doing dishes from the meal he’d just cooked for them. She was focused on the job at hand, but he couldn’t take his eyes off her tiny waist and the way her hips curved out beneath the dress she wore. Even doing such a mundane task, she was still unbelievably sexy.

A month had passed since the exhibition, and there was no doubt it had been a huge success.

Other than a couple of negative articles from writers who were most likely either friendly with Anya’s father, or else with Jonathan Turner, everyone embraced Eric’s new direction.

In the days that followed, numerous galleries from across the country had begged to show Eric’s new collection, and when he’d asked Anya if she minded, she’d simply kissed him and told him it was a great idea. A tour for Intimate had now been arranged, with Logan acting as Eric’s agent. It started in a couple of weeks, and he and Anya planned to travel with the collection.

Her father still hadn’t contacted her, and, the day after the exhibition, Anya’s mother had come to their apartment to tell Anya that she’d left him. Turned out he’d been having affairs for years, something her mother had turned a blind eye to, hoping she was mistaken or that he would stop. After he’d attempted to ban her from seeing Anya, she’d checked his email and found a number of messages from another woman. That, combined with his overbearing attitude, had been the final straw for Saara Bergman, and she’d thrown him out.

Anya, understandably, had been heartbroken. She’d cried while Eric held her, and he promised her that would never be them.

Nadine and Logan had spent the evening of the exhibition together, and stayed up drinking champagne into the early hours. According to Anya, Nadine hadn’t even slept with him—something that was apparently unusual for her—and instead had arranged a second date for the following week. They’d seen each other almost every day since, and Eric was thrilled Logan had found someone he cared about.

Unable to keep his hands off Anya, Eric walked up to her and pressed against her from behind. He reached around her body and plunged his hands into the bowl of soapy water, finding Anya’s fingers, wet and slippery with soap beneath the surface.

“Hey, you’re distracting me,” she protested, but only half-heartedly.

He nuzzled into her neck, inhaling her sweet scent. “I couldn’t help it. Seeing you like this, all domesticated, was making me hot.”

She laughed. “Me doing the dishes turns you on?”

“Everything you do turns me on, but yes, seeing you like this, here in our home, doing regular things, is definitely a turn on.”

“You’re going to have me barefoot, pregnant, and chained to the sink before I know it.”

He growled in her ear, “Don’t tempt me.”

She twisted in his arms and placed her soapy hands around the back of his neck, and kissed him. Not caring his own hands were wet, he grabbed her bottom and pulled her against him.

“You know, Anya, in all seriousness, nothing would make me happier than having you pregnant, with or without shoes. I can’t wait to be able to marry you and see you grow our child, to be able to photograph your stomach as it swells, or your breasts as they get larger and your nipples get massive.”

She laughed. “Eric, I’m only twenty-two, and you’re just obsessed with my nipples.”

“I know, and I know you still have your studies and your career ahead of you. I would never take any of that away, but as soon as you’re ready, just say the word.”

“Are you sure?” she said. “You’d really want that with me? Marriage and babies?”

“Of course. You’re not just my model and muse. You’re the woman I love. You’re my everything, and I can’t see a future where you’re not in it.” He lowered his head and pressed his forehead to hers. “When I was sick, right before the exhibition, I had a glimpse of that possibility. For this one, horrifying moment, I tried to see a future where you weren’t in my life, and all I could see was a blank. I need you, Anya, more than you’ve ever needed me, and I’m sorry if that sounds sad and pathetic, but it’s the truth.”

She brushed his nose with hers, their lips skirting each other. “Eric, you’re everything to me, too. I don’t want a future without you in it either.”

“But what about the bipolar?” he asked, not wanting to talk about it, but feeling he had to. “If I’m in your life, that will be, too. I hate that I’m making you live with my illness when you could be free. It worries me that I’ll get ill again and your opinion of me will change.”

She smiled up at him, looking him in the eye. “Eric, you’re the bravest person I know. I can’t imagine what it’s like to wake up every day and have to battle with my own head. And the fact you’ve achieved so much while going through your own personal war is nothing short of amazing.”

He kissed her again. “No, you’re amazing. I’m so lucky and thankful to have you in my life.”

She smiled again, only this time she had a wicked glint in her blue eyes. She pressed herself closer, her hips grinding into his body, causing his already semi-erect cock to lengthen and harden. “So, show me how thankful you are.”

His hands slipped up beneath her skirt, cupping her bottom. “You, Miss Rhinne, are a very naughty girl.”

She hid a smile. “And don’t you just love it.”

He ran his hands over her bottom and then slipped one hand beneath the material of her underwear. He traced his finger down the crease of her bottom, past the pucker of her ass, making her inhale a breath, and then on to the wet folds of her pussy. He slipped a finger inside her, causing her to squirm as their mouths locked.

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