Page 49 of Infinite

I sigh and do what he instructs, moving slowly as he suggested when we shot the outside pics.

Click. The first picture is taken.

Click. I move a fraction of an inch.

Click. I close my eyes.

Click. I open them slowly.

Click,click. This one from the tripod.

Click. One more.Click. And another.

The gentle sounds from the camera start to fade. Almost silently, Becca moves forward. I barely hear her steps. But I sense her. I always have.

The scent of her perfume, the mild flowery one she usually wears this time of year, drifts ahead of her, filling the room with her fragrance. I always knew when spring arrived in Kiawah. It wasn’t the changing weather, or the blossoms poking their way through thick and battered vegetation. It was Becca, her increasing energy, her widening smile, and this perfume.

I close my eyes again, remembering the first time she wore it. It was high school, our sophomore year. There was a change in Becca when we started high school. She began caring more about what she wore and how she looked, fussing with her hair, giving us second glances when we told her she looked good, like she wasn’t sure we meant it. It was also the time she tightened her circle of friends, as if she’d finally learned who to trust. But sophomore year . . . yeah, that’s when this perfume made its presence known.

It fit Becca perfectly, light like how she moved and fresh like her spirit. I remember her walking toward me, laughing at something Trin was telling her, her long hair swaying and her skirt fluttering, her eyes bright, and the sweet scent she’d claimed as hers drifting closer as she neared.

I sink further into the pillow, relishing the scent and memories I have of her. There are too many to count and she’s almost to me. Can she guess how many more memories I’d like to make of us?

“You know she’s here,” Tootles says. “Look up. See your lover.”

I do, turning my head slowly. My eyelids are like a heavy curtain, unveiling the vision before me.

The intensity of the moment chisels the image of her into my soul. Becca’s robe is gone. Another sheet, this one black is pressed tight against her breasts. She keeps her head lowered as instructed. Not in shame. Not in sadness.Anticipation. That and ashyness that I didn’t quite expect.

Her heavy strands of tousled hair gather around her face, cloaking her features and concealing her eyes. I need to see those eyes. She can’t hide what she’s feeling within them, no matter how hard she tries.

Becca’s back is exposed, revealing every curve and bit of her silky skin in the reflection of the mirror. Tootles doesn’t seem to notice as he clicks away behind her. She’s a prop. That’s how he described her.

To me, she’s something else. Hell, she always was.

“Don’t move,” Tootles says, when Becca quivers. “Look up at Hale, slowly. Use your body to tell him what you want him to do to you.”

The light from the room hits her face just right, casting shadows from her hair around the perimeter and illuminating her features. Lowered lids, thick with eye makeup, meet me with full force, drilling me in place. I can’t be sure what she’s thinking. But I know what her body wants.

Blinding need builds within her, casting a shade of pink across her face and throat. She bites the bottom of her pouty lips, unsure, hungry with desire, and inexplicably frightened.

She has nothing to be afraid of. Becca has me. I’m all hers.

I just need to make her mine.

“Good. That’s it,” Tootles says. “It’s okay, honey. Don’t stress. No one will know it’s you.”

I want everyone to know, I almost say.Want everyone to see she’s with me.

“Inch closer to Hale,” Tootles instructs. “Slowly . . . slowly . . . good. So good!”

Tootles has no romantic interest in Becca. I know it as well as I know that ocean singing its gentle song beneath the sunny sky mere yards away. That doesn’t mean I like another man seeing her. Touching her. No, not like I see her now, and definitely not when I want to be the only one whose hands glide across her exposed flesh.

He plays with her hair, bringing it down to further conceal her face and cloak her soft features.

Don’t touch her, I want to say.She’s perfect.

“Love this, Hale,” Tootles says. “You’re doing great and responding well. Rugged and strong, but willing to abandon it all to meet your lover’s needs and fulfill her desires.”

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