Page 121 of Maybe You

Calm.

Calm.

TWENTY-SIX

I get home from work, toe off my shoes, and drop my backpack on the bench by the door.

Everything is quiet.

Guess Sutton isn’t back from his premiere yet. He promised to be Quinn’s sister’s date for it and has been bitching and moaning about going for days now. I got him out the door with a promise to be waiting for him naked when he gets home, so it’s nice that he’s not here yet, and I can keep that promise. My cock jerks in my pants at the idea.

I’m about to head to the living room when there’s a muffled bang from somewhere. I stop and frown.

“Sutt?” I call out.

“Darkroom,” he shouts back. “Give me five more minutes.”

I shrug and go put my stuff away. Sutton in the darkroom is nothing unusual anymore. He spends so much time taking photos lately that he’s run out of shelf space. Whenever we go somewhere, he takes his camera with him. I don’t even want to know how many photos he has of me, but I suspect the number might be approaching four figures by now.

I go to the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water, then I lean my ass against the counter and wait.

Sutton comes into the room a few minutes later. He doesn’t stop, just walks straight into me. He cradles my face and kisses me like he hasn’t seen me in weeks, as opposed to a few hours. My heart gallops in my chest, as I wrap myself around him and kiss him back.

“Hey,” he says with a crooked smile once we finally manage to come up for air.

“Hey yourself.” I grin back.

Next thing I know, he’s grabbed my hand and towing me away from the kitchen. I laugh and follow, already mentally undressing him, but instead of the bed, he steers me toward the living room couch, where he pushes me down before he puts his hands on his hips.

“I’ve got something to show you,” he says, eyes shining.

“Okay?”

He holds up one finger then strides out of the room, but he’s back in a matter of seconds. He’s got one of his photo boxes in his hands, and I smile as he hands it to me.

He sits down next to me, practically vibrating with excitement that feels almost like an aura surrounding him. I’m tempted to poke him with my finger to see if I can touch it.

He nods toward the box. “Open it.”

I don’t know what to expect.

But I don’t expect… myself.

They’re the photos from the other day. The ones he took of me on his bed.

I stare at the one on top without blinking.

Me, sitting cross-legged on the bed, head turned to the side, eyes aimed at the window, the white curtain mid-flutter in the early summer breeze.

I slowly flip to the next photo.

Me.

Cross-legged on the bed.

Looking straight at the camera with a wide smile.

My fingers start to shake.

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