“Thanks.” I take it from his hand, but he doesn't let go at first.

“I’d never want to tell you what you should be doing with your life, Dove. It’s your job, but I know a lot of law offices around town. I can put in a good word for you.” I start to open my mouth, but he stops me. “I’m really not trying to overstep, and of course you’d have to prove yourself, which I have no doubt you will, but there are always other options.”

“That’s sweet of you. I’ll keep that in mind.” I start to take my bag from him. “Please don’t mention this stuff about my job to my sister.”

Something crosses his face for a moment before he gives me a nod and lets my purse go. “Not a word,” he promises before he heads back out of the room. When he returns a little while later, I’m cuddled deep into his bed. He drops boxes of pizza on the bed that I in no way think we’ll ever be able to finish. Not that we don't give it a go.

He slips into the other side of the bed, making sure there is a nice amount of space between us. Space that I actually hate. At some point sleep finds me, and I’m pretty sure I’m the one closing that space between us.

Eleven

Jay

I try not to stare too hard at Dove’s body because my momma drilled into me that you respect women by looking them in the eye when you’re talking to them. I do a fair job of that, but when you’re not talking, and a goddess is sleeping on your bed, what then? What are the rules for that kind of encounter? And when she creeps closer to you in her sleep until her warm body is curled next to yours, do you slip your arm around her or do you lie still, sweat beading across your forehead while a hard-on rages below the waist?

I finally get out of bed and take a break in the bathroom. The cold water does a lot for my sweat and almost nothing for my erection. She’s just so fucking perfect from her peach-shaped tits to her round ass and curvy hips. Then there’s her legs—long and strong and the perfect necklace. Like I should be wearing her thighs around my head like they’re earrings. I slam the heel of my palm against my temple and try to knock some lust out and some sense in.

What I’d really like to do is get my camera and photograph her. The monorail view one on the tripod with a wide-angle bellows and a film back for black and white old school photos. I’d take off the navy comforter and lay her nude on the white sheets. The drapes would be closed, and the only light would be from a key light directed on different spots on her body. I’d start with her face and focus on the cheek, eyes, mouth, nose. I’d move on to her ear, covering parts of it with strands of hair. Next, I’d sweep the sheets down, inch by slow inch, revealing and exposing as I went along, creating a virtual strip tease to be revisited time and again. I’d place her hand on her breast, her fingers closed around a taut nipple. I’d have her roll that pert bud and squeeze tight until the whites showed on the end of her fingers.

Her legs would swish against the sheets, and while a still image can’t capture the sound, it can capture the restlessness, the tension. It would show in the flex of her calf muscles, the pointing of her toes. It would be etched in her cheekbones as the skin pulls taut across her features. I’d capture her hand as it moved from her chest to her pussy. The light would follow. Her knuckles would point upward as she delved between her legs. Shadows would be cast by her thighs as her fingers disappeared. The light would catch on the moisture as she withdrew them, sparkling like gems just mined from the most hidden of caves. My camera would make love to her as she pleasured herself. The image would blur as her hand moved faster, as her fingers jacked in and out of her pussy, as the sounds of the wet suck of her sex echoed in the quiet night.

I gasp and come, the thick fluid splashing over my fist and covering my stomach. I close my eyes and lean back against the cold porcelain tank, imagining that it is my hand between her legs, my fingers knuckle deep in her cunt. It’s my mouth on her tits, suckling those nipples to tight, hard nubs, and, after she’s creamed on my hand, it’ll be my rod inside of her channel and we’ll be making those hot sex sounds together. I squeeze myself hard, milking all of the cum out until there’s nothing left in my tank.

One of these days this is going to be more than a bathroom fantasy. Either that or I throw myself out of a window. I heave my spent body to my feet and wash up. My camera’s the first thing my eyes land on when I exit the bathroom, and even though my fingers itch to pick it up, I force myself to the sofa. I don’t trust myself next to her in a bed.

There’s no sleeping, but I do a lot of staring at the ceiling. Abel had his people paint it, I think. There aren’t any dark marks on it. When dawn breaks, I get up and make breakfast. I don’t have a tray to put it on, but I do find some cups and plates in the cupboard that I didn’t own before. I’ll have to send a thank you gift to Pepper. Maybe Dove can pick it out for me. Once the eggs, sausage and toast are done, I go to wake Dove up, only to find that she’s already dressed and at my bedroom door.

“Breakfast?” I suggest.

“No.” She shakes her head stiffly. “I need to get to work.”

I glance at the clock. It’s still early, but maybe lawyers’ assistants need to get to work before everyone else. “Breakfast won’t take long.”

“I need to get ready.” She plucks at the front of my sweatshirt, which dwarfs her in the sexiest and most adorable way possible. “Thomas isn’t very forgiving about tardiness.”

“I bet he isn’t.” I glower. The mention of Thomas drives away my appetite, too. “You go get ready, and I’ll throw the eggs into a tortilla that you can eat in the Rover.”

“No. I’m good.” She edges toward the door.

I’m confused right now. Last night, she was eating pizza and wearing my clothes. She’s still wearing my clothes, but she’s acting like they’re too tight on her frame and that she can’t wait to get away from me. “I haven’t ridden on the train here. I’ll go with you.”

“No.” She gives me a fake smile, the one I know she gives Thomas, and that fucking sucks. “I’m good.”

I need to figure out how to rewind time and go back to before she fell asleep because I swear to God, we were moving in the right direction, but now? Now I feel like there’s a gulf between us that I can’t cross. “All right. You stay good, though, okay? Because it’s important to me that you’re happy.”

A quick flash of some emotion skates across her face. It looks like confusion, but I can’t be sure.

“Thanks.” She edges out of the door and then looks back, searchingly. “For everything.”

It sounds like she’s giving me the heave-ho, but even if she’s not interested now, even if she’s changed her mind, I’m not backing down. There are some things worth fighting for, and she’s one of them.

Twelve

Dove

I stab a piece of sushi with my chopsticks before dipping it into the soy sauce and shoving the whole thing into my mouth.

“You do know that’s not how you eat that, right?” Avery asks. I can tell she’s trying not to laugh.