Turning slowly around, I find Esme at the edge of the bed with a sheet not exactly wrapped around her, rather draped. Most of her legs can be seen and are in a provocative placement with one leg thrown over the other, exposing just enough of her ass that it’s a tease. The sheet comes up between her legs, and she holds it barely around her breast. It’s clear not a thread of sheet is covering her naked back. She’s a sultry goddess with her hair down.
“What in the world are we doing?”
She crooks her finger and gestures me closer. “You can be the photographer for my boudoir shoot. The kind of photos that you hate to admit you love yet tease me about.”
I smile tightly because I enjoy where her mind is at. “I’m on board with this.”
Esme begins to crawl back, dragging the sheet with her in the sexiest way possible. “Then let’s get started.” Slowly, I approach the bed, not entirely sure what to do, and she notices. “Just take any photo you want. However, in this little session of ours, you will absolutely not see everything. A lot of skin, yes. Sacred parts, no.” She lies back, and the sheet lowers slightly until her nipples can barely be seen.
“I believe I’m already enjoying this idea of yours.” My knee dips into the mattress, and I shoot a photo from above as this beautiful woman is splayed across the bed. “Why in here?”
She rolls slightly to her side, creating an S shape with thesheet, her back and legs bare and just enough covering the front. “Better light. Perhaps, it also heightens the occasion, too. It might feel too ordinary in the bed that I seem to be sharing with you now.”
Fuck, I’m getting hard. Esme puts effort into her different facial expressions that are new to me, yet it appears natural all the same. Her body moves tantalizing slow after I take photos in certain positions.
“How in the world do you do this and not, well…”
Her head falls back in laughter, displaying her elongated neck in the process. “It’s a job, and the many reasons that women do this remind me that it’s important to give them photos they will cherish. Besides, I think it’s different when you do this with someone you are very familiar with…”
My head retreats back in concern. “You’ve done this before?”
Her big toe points into the mattress, giving me another view that’s too enticing, but I’ll stay professional for her. “No,” Esme answers bluntly. “You’re the first who gets to take photos of me like this.”
I pause for a second to examine her and the sincerity in her eyes. “Lucky me then.” Very.
She rises on her knees to come face to face with me, with the sheet fisted near the middle of her breasts. “I have a confession,” she rasps before she gently with purpose removes the camera from my hands and sets it on the mattress next to us. Her eyes return to me with strong conviction.
“What might that be?” I whisper, completely mesmerized by her beauty.
Esme begins to dust my lips with her own, a mere brush but nothing more. “The mail…”
“What about it?” I chase her mouth, attempting to trap herlips. “Is this about the fact that even the mailman looking at you pisses me off?”
She wobbles once and lets go of the sheet, but it stays put as our bodies are wound together tightly. “I wrote the wrong address.”
“And?” I do my best to capture her lips.
“On purpose.” I feather my hands up her bare back until I cup her face. “Already two months ago, I did it.” Her breath is heavy. “More than once.”
The corner of my mouth curls. “I was hoping you were doing that,” I admit softly. “Then and now.”
There is a vulnerable gleam in her eyes when we look at one another, but it’s only a few seconds before I crash my lips down onto hers.
I’m relieved and happy that it appears this relationship between us isn’t one-sided.
18
ESME
Clicking on my computer screen, I’m struggling to focus. Probably because it’s 5:30 in the morning and the sun is only starting to appear in the sky. I sit on the sofa in the living room and a smile pulls on my mouth.
There is something about waking to find Keats lying next to me. Even when sleeping, he appears serious, or rather, I haven’t seen any smiles slip through when he’s dreaming. It’s doable though, as I’m lucky that his arm tends to venture my way to keep me cuddled against him.
Sometimes I used to wake early because the focus was there, but lately, it’s because my house next door is in a crisis. It’s one giant mess with the insurance companies and ordering things for the contractor. It’s a different ball game when you have to build after a fire. It’s a lot of waiting time. Even when Keats walked through the house with the inspector, his sharklike legal mentality didn’t get me far.
But it’s okay. As much as my house is my home, I’m enjoying the temporary stay at my neighbor’s. In fact, in awarped way, I feel lucky. It might have only been two weeks, but every day something inside of me blooms open.
This man has me twisted.
