Page 139 of Off Camera
I’d pour her a glass of wine and listen to her talk about work. I’d nod along to the new ideas she has, teasing her like I’m going to steal them, but, really, I’d be in awe of her creativity. Blown away by how big and how beautiful her brain is.
Her sweaters could be next to mine in the closet. A toothbrush in the bathroom and the three pillows she insists she has to sleep with on the bed.
I could take my time with her. Fuck her on the kitchen counter. In the living room against the wall. Every room in here wouldn’t just bemine. It would beours, with fresh sunflowers in jars and our laptops in the home office.
“Reid?” she asks, and I snap out of my daydream of playing house.
“Hm?” I answer, and her smile tips into one that’s bright and perfect.
“Where’d you go?”
“Sorry,” I apologize, following her. “Lost in my thoughts there for a minute.”
My eyes drift down her legs, to the swell of her ass and the shape of her hips. The skirt and tights she’s wearing do little tohide her curves, and I have to bite my bottom lip to keep from groaning when I see little bows at the tops of her stockings.
I might actually be addicted to her.
I think she might be torturing me on purpose.
“Hopefully good thoughts,” Avery says.
“Very good thoughts.” I reach over her shoulder and grab two plates, setting them on the counter. “You want something to drink?”
“I probably shouldn’t. There are only two days until we travel, and I know tomorrow is going to be long.”
“If you change your mind, I bought some new whiskey,” I say. “It got good reviews.”
“You hardly ever drink whiskey.”
I shrug. “But you do. Figured I should have some here so you can make yourself a drink whenever you feel like you needed one. And, with the end of your season approaching, the necessity is growing more inevitable.”
“Asshole.” She laughs and swats at my arm. “When they announce the winner of Social Media Account of the Year, you’re going to look like a goddamn fool, Reid Duncan.”
“You’d still fuck me.” I crowd her space and rest one hand on either side of her hips on the counter, caging her in. “Wouldn’t you, beauty queen? You’d still find your way over here because I know how to keep you satisfied. I know how to take care of you, don’t I? Not just in the bedroom but outside it, too.”
Her breath catches in her throat and she grabs my shirt. “Yes,” she whispers. “I would and you do.”
“How hungry are you?” I ask her.
“I can wait to eat.”
“I can’t.” I lift her on the counter and shove her legs open, those damn stockings making my cock throb. “You know the question I’m going to ask you.”
“Wet,” she says automatically, adjusting her skirt so it rides up her hips. I see lace underwear—green this time—and the front of the material is already damp. “I need you, Reid.”
“How much did you miss me?” I ask, my fingers moving to the front of her underwear. I grin when she lifts her hips and drops her head back, asking for more. “On a scale of one to ten?”
“Eleven. I missed you so damn much.”
I feel that in the center of my chest.
It takes up all the space behind my ribs.
All the space in my head, too.
I know I need to talk to her about my feelings.
I know I need to ask if we’re on the same page going forward, but it’s too damn difficult to remember everything I want to say when she hooks her fingers in the waistband of her underwear and shimmies them down her legs.
