He opens the refrigerator. “I’m a little disappointed you changed out of those tights.”
He’d noticed. I’ve had them in my underwear drawer for years, but today was the first time I’d pulled them out. “You didn’t even get to see all of them,” I say.
He closes the fridge and turns slowly. “No?”
Any traces of the wintry night fade. My body warms as Finn’s eyes travel downward. “There are little bows at the tops of each leg. Right under my ass.”
His expression darkens. I’ve seen desire in his eyes before—like when our knees touched on the windowsill at Lait Noir or when healmostkissed me on the couch. But now he’s no longer trying to hide it. “That’d make a good photo.”
I haven’t stopped wanting Finn’s camera lens on me, even though he told me in the park we couldn’t do it again. “You posted,” I say.
He nods. “A couple hours ago.”
“I haven’t had a chance to look yet.”
He gets his phone from his back pocket and hands it to me. “The code is 2008.”
Getting his password to unlock the screen feels like a form of intimacy, but I try not to look too excited about it. I pull up the photo, and my mouth drops open. “You have fifty more followers.”
“Are you keeping track, Serenity?”
I blush hearing the handle I use on all my social media, @suhr.enity. In the excitement of wanting to see him, I’d forgotten that we’d never actually connected online outside of e-mail. “How’d you know the message was from me?”
He arches an eyebrow. “Lucky guess. Where does Suhr come from?”
I look at the screen. “My mom’s maiden name.”
“Did you consider any other ‘Suhr’ words?”
I glance up. “Like what?”
“Suhr-ender.”
My insides tighten. He says it like a command, or an idea he’s just had. Is he suggesting I give in to him for a night? How would that feel? “Friends and family follow me on that account.”
“And? Surrender’s inappropriate?”
Inappropriate.God. There’s that word again. This time, I’m the one acting like a prude, not Rich. I’m not exactly wild, but have I become boring? No. A boring person wouldn’t be here right now.
I return my eyes to the picture. “Nobody commented on the last two posts,” I say. “Do you think that means they didn’t like what I wrote?”
“No,” he says. “In fact, the one with your fingers in your mouth has more likes.”
He’s right. It does. I hand him back the phone. “Maybe that’s because of the photo, not the caption.”
“It doesn’t mean that,” he says. “I got a message just before yours complimenting the captions.”
“Seriously?” My face splits with a smile. “From who?”
“Just some random girl.”
“What’d you say?”
“I didn’t answer, but I updated the description to say ‘My model and her words are anonymous.’”
Mymodel.Mine.
“Is that all right?” Finn catches my eye. “I know keeping your identity secret is important to you.”
