Chapter 25

TWENTY-FIVE

Sutton leans his shoulder against the doorjamb, eyes on me while I get dressed. It’s Sunday, and I haven’t been home in days. All my clothes are dirty by now, so I’m rummaging through Sutton’s wardrobe.

“Would you pose for me?”

My head snaps up from the drawer I’ve been going through, and I frown at him.

“What?”

“Would you pose for me?” he repeats.

“Pose for what?” I ask.

“For a photo. I want to photograph you.”

I turn to face him, a T-shirt dangling from my fingertips. “Yeah, buddy, I hate to break it to you, but you already take photos of me on a regular basis. You took a selfie of us a half an hour ago in bed. Did you hit your head while you were making breakfast?”

He just smiles, calm and patient. Waiting.

“Okay?” I eventually say. “I guess… take a photo of me. If that’s what you want?”

He pushes himself off the doorjamb and walks away, but he’s back in under five seconds, this time with his camera in his hand.

“Sit on the bed,” he says.

I drop the shirt back into the drawer, go to the bed, and sit down.

He presses the shutter.

I raise my brows at him.

“Done?”

He lets out a laugh.

“Haven’t even started yet. Sit in the middle of the bed. Cross-legged.”

After giving the order, he proceeds to march around the room, pulling the curtains open and arranging the sheets and pillows on the bed, all the while muttering under his breath as he takes what I now assume are some kind of test shots.

I’d probably start to feel self-conscious if it was anybody else. But it’s Sutton. It also helps how fucking sexy he is when he’s in the zone and in his element like this.

Eventually, he seems to be happy with the setting he’s created, so he lifts his camera again.

“Lean forward just the tiniest bit,” he says.

So I do that.

“Head slightly to the side.”

“Lift your chin a bit.”

“Turn your head a little to the right.”

“Slouch.”

“No, not like that.”

“Put your right hand on your left shoulder.”

“Raise your right knee.”

“Look out the window.”

“Look at me.”

“Look out the window again.”

“Look at the dresser.”

After the one thousandth direction, I blow out an impatient breath and glare at him.

“You said one photo.”

He just grins and takes another shot before he finally lowers the camera.

“No. I asked if you’d pose for me.”

“Yes, and then you said for a photo. A photo.” I cross my arms over my chest. “That implies one. I rest my case.”

“You have a very specific type of dirty talk that just does it for me.”

My breath lodges in my chest when he puts the camera down and prowls closer.

“Yeah?” I manage to say.

He nods. “Oh yeah.”

One knee goes on the bed, then the other, and then he’s crawling over me, mouth descending on mine.

Guess this is another one of those days we won’t get out of bed.

And everything is still calm.

Calm.

Calm.

Calm.