Ignoring him, she continued. ‘There’s always plenty of people wherever I go. I’ve just always been too busy taking pictures of the scenery and impatiently waiting for said people to vamoose so I can get my perfect shot.’
She laughed in a way that indicated she had some stories to tell in that regard.
‘It’s never been in my brief to photograph people, and giving clients what they ask for is what pays my bills. But working on this project has made me see thatpeopletell the story of the place, not just the scenery. And I think that’s what appeals to humans most of all, even if we’re not conscious of it.’
Fin chuckled at her passionate speech. ‘I bet you didn’t bank on a career epiphany when you came home.’
One eyebrow winged up as her gaze dropped to his bare chest before lifting again. ‘There’s quitea lotI didn’t bank on.’
And wasn’t that the truth.
She stared at him for long moments and Fin thought she might be going to say something about thesituation. Open a dialogue. But she just smiled and shut the laptop lid. ‘I’m busting,’ she announced as she slid it onto the bedside table and wriggled out of the bed. ‘Don’t go anywhere,’ she threw over her shoulder as she stood and stalked to the bathroom.
Fin watched her go, the hem of his jersey flirting with the curve of an ass cheek. Wild horses couldn’t have dragged him out of their bed.
Scooching down to lie flat, he tucked both his hands under his head and crossed his ankles, causing the sheet to ride a little lower on his hips, his eyes drifting shut on a wave of contentment. Every inch of him was mellow with bone-deep satisfaction and he revelled in the warmth of well-exercised muscles and the knowledge that they still had a lot of night left.
Added bonus—he didn’t have to coach tomorrow. To beon. He was just going to be a spectator along with the rest of the Banshees contingent who were heading to the grounds to watch the semis in the morning and the grand final match after lunch. Which meant he could ogle Sweeney to his heart’s content, because what self-respecting fake fiancé wouldn’t?
It wasn’t till he heard a click that his eyes drifted open again, his gaze finding Sweeney standing at the end of the bed, looking at him through her camera. She’d pulled her hair out and it was now hanging loose around her shoulders, all sexily dishevelled.
‘You have sex hair,’ he said with a smile.
She grinned. ‘So do you.’ She snapped off a series of rapid-fire pictures. ‘Looks good on you.’
‘My shirt looks good on you.’ Removing his hands from under his head, he beckoned her with a crooked finger. ‘Now come here and let me take it off.’
Ignoring him, she ambled around to her side of the bed, the shutter clicking continuously. Crouching, Sweeney snapped off some more pics. Fin rolled his head to the side and looked directly into the lens. Over the past few weeks she’d taken countless pictures of him on the pitch, both surrounded by kids and not, but this felt different. As though she could see right into his heart, and he wasn’t sure he wanted to expose that to her when he had no clue what the hell was rattling around in there himself.
Grabbing her pillow, he plonked it over his face.
‘Spoilsport,’ she said with a laugh. ‘I’m just trying to explore portraiture a little more. Come on,’ she cajoled lightly. ‘I’ll show you mine if you show me yours.’
Well now, that was an offer he couldn’t refuse. Fin removed the pillow from his head and Sweeney snapped off some more pictures in quick succession. ‘You taking nudes now?’
Rising from her crouch, Sweeney slid a knee on the bed. ‘I think I’ll start with semi-nude.’
Her other knee joined its counterpart and she shuffled steadily closer, the lens pointing at him as the shutter click-click-clicked. He was already hard when she slid a thigh over his hips, planting her knee on the other side, still taking her photos as she straddled him.
Resigned to his fate, Fin curled his hands under his head again. ‘It seems the only person semi-nude here is me.’
She looked over the top of the camera and smiled at him for a beat before reaching for the hem of his jersey and whisking it up and off, switching the camera to the opposite hand as it slid off that arm.
‘Better?’
He gaped at her. She looked ah-mazing in his jersey but absolutely fucking sensational out of it. His gaze roved over the heavy fall of her breasts, the tight pucker of her nipples and the tiny pink bow decorating her underwear and sitting pretty just below her belly button.
She caught every moment of his thorough eye fucking through the lens of her camera, every filthy thought writ large across his face, and Fin didn’t care. Peeking around the camera this time, she grinned. ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she sing-songed.
Oh no she did not.
Quickly Fin snatched the camera, whisking it with ease from her unsuspecting hands. ‘Hey,’ she said on a laugh as he turned it on her.
Compared to the photographic expert currently proving herself an expert in keeping his dick exceptionally happy, Fin was a novice behind the lens. But he liked what he saw and snapped accordingly. She tried to wrest the camera back but he was too fast for her, pulling it out of her reach.
‘Fin,’ she warned, but ruined it by the merriment dancing in her eyes as she covered her chest with her arms.
‘Now who’s the spoilsport?’ he teased.
