Page 50 of Infinite

That sounds about right.

“Get riled,” he instructs Becca. “Get hot. Go to him.”

Becca lifts the sheet, allowing the bottom to pool in front of her. She crawls across the bed, struggling to keep her body hidden.

I don’t want her to hide. I want to see her. No. I need to see her.

Click. Click.

Becca’s doing all the work.

Click. Click.

But every emotion she reveals in me is captured in that camera.

“Reach for her,” Tootles instructs. He’s at the corner of the bed. The long lens of his camera captures the moment my hand grasps hers. He doesn’t seem to notice the way we’re watching each other, too busy telling me to turn her hand so he can see the ring.

I think I give him what wants. Although I no longer care.

God, it hurts to breathe.

Hurts not to touch her.

My muscles are shaking, burning from the warmth of her hand.

Her breathing increases and so does mine.

“Hale,” she rasps.

She could be begging me to stop. Telling me this is all too much for her.

She could be pleading with me to take her. That she no longer wants to be without me.

She may even be telling me that she’s not ready to feel what she does.

Or maybe that she’s ready for more.

I don’t ask.

I kiss her hard, my fingers tangling in her hair. She lets me, returning my affections, her tongue skimming across mine, begging for a deeper taste, and her short nails digging into my shoulders to keep me in place.

Jesus, sweet Jesus, don’t let her stop.

I haul her on top of me, my fingers grazing down her bare back until they linger at the sheet and I wrap my arms around her.

Our lips audibly smack, seeking more of each other.

“And . . . release,” Tootles says.

Becca whirls in Tootles direction. Like me, she seems to have forgotten he’s here. She pulls up and away from me, her eyes wide, her breathing ragged, barely managing to keep the sheet pressed against her.

My hands drop to my sides. Other than that, I don’t move.

Tootles busily flips through the images he captured. “That was hot. We’ll have plenty of pics to choose from. Now, Becca, I want you across his chest.”

“What?” she asks.

“Lay on his chest,” he says. “It’s morning. He’s awake, thinking about the future and everything it promises. You’re on top of him where you fell asleep after making love. You’re content and at peace, knowing you’re safe in his arms.”

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