Page 52 of A Lucky Shot

“Salsa competition a few years ago. Grady, my partner, slipped and pulled me down with him.”

The man in her profile picture with his hands all over her hadn’t been her boyfriend, he’d been her dance partner. A partner whose carelessness had ended her career. The jealousy that had simmered in his stomach morphed into outrage on her behalf. “What a piece of shit.”

“It could have just as easily been me pulling him down, but the injury never fully healed.” She gave him a chagrined look. “You already know my knee isn’t great.”

Right. The night they’d spent together, she’d balked when he’d pulled her down to ride him. And he’d demanded she get on her knees in front of him. She’d probably been in pain when he was getting the best blowjob of his life.

Who’s the piece of shit now?

“It’s okay, mostly, but no more heels. Do you have any idea how many shoes I have in my closet that I can’t wear anymore?”

He could imagine. A nice pair of four-inch heels, sticking her ass and tits out, getting her mouth closer to his, but she didn’t need to be standing in them. Flat on her back with her high-heel clad feet slung over his shoulders, his fingers biting into her thighs …

A burst of photos slashed across his viewfinder before he could release his grip on the button.

Fucking hell. He swallowed, hard. “You should show me sometime,” he croaked out.

“Anyway, my back never fully healed, either. I can dance a bit if I’m very careful, but no more competitions for me.”

If she’s very careful. When she couldn’t move in bed with him how she’d wanted, even as she had twined her body around his, wrapped in sweat and bedsheets. And still she’d been holding back. All because of an accident that happened in an instant.

The light outside had faded enough that the room threw shadows around them. He put down his DSLR and picked up his Pentax.

“Put on the dress. Leave your shoes off.”

Gotta love a professional who could make quick costume changes. She exited the change room less than a minute later, bare feet silent across the dance floor. The black dress hugged every one of her luscious curves, with those fabulous breasts begging for attention under the crimson scarf wrapped once around her neck.

He ripped his eyes away and dimmed the overheads until the room almost looked black-and-white, with the light from surrounding buildings throwing flashes of colour across her body.

He held out his hand. “I don’t want you wearing it.”

The gauzy crimson scarf hinted at the barest of shapes through its translucent weave, but it might—just might—work for what he wanted. He wrapped the material tight to his camera lens and peered through the viewfinder.

The room transformed into an ethereal flame. Beams of light illuminated the strands of silk and softened the hard contrast of the dress on her fair skin, the room muting to a glow surrounding her. But still undeniably her, with her huge eyes following his every move.

Perfect.

“Hand against the window. Look outside.”

She obeyed, leaning close enough he could capture her reflection, fingertips resting on the pane. God, he loved how she surrendered to his demands without hesitating.

Click, click, click. The mechanical snick of the lens flicked in rapid succession. He beckoned her closer, untying the scarf from his lens and draping it around her neck, letting the end whisper over her arm.

How fucking hot would she look with her wrists bound, arms trapped over her head, like he’d done in his bed with her months ago, closing his teeth over her nipple as she writhed underneath him with choked cries.

“Turn to me.” He stepped closer again, leaning over her.

Click, click, click. How much film did he have left?

“Just like that. Yes.” He tilted her chin up to him with a finger.

Click, click, click, the viewfinder forgotten.

“Eyes on me.”

Her gaze left the buildings across the street and met his, hitting him with the weight of a sledgehammer. It had been months since he’d been this close to her. Her breath hitched, warm on his mouth. The familiar scent of jasmine hit his senses, and he leaned closer to breathe her in.

It would be so easy. So natural. Her fingers trailing over his chest as she parted her lips, inviting him in. She’d be all cinnamon and sweetness. All he had to do was tilt his head down to close the distance between them to taste her again.

---