Chase Me If You Can(64)
Eventually.
Wordlessly, I pass the phone over my shoulder to Wes. I can’t decide if I’m relieved or disappointed that our target area is far enough away that lingering here isn’t an option. My body definitely wants to stay tangled up with him and find out just how good the hard cock nestled against my ass would feel inside me. Emotionally, I’m a bigger mess than a rural gas station after a hundred chasers blow through.
“Guess we’ve got places to be.” He nips my shoulder before reluctantly pulling away. “Shower to wake up?”
Unabashedly naked Wes is a sight to behold. He preens at my perusal, stretching his arms high above his head and letting me look my fill before stalking over to my side of the bed. Bracing one hand on the mattress, he uses the other to hook a finger into the sheets and drag them down to my waist. “One of these days,” he says, his voice still hoarse from sleep and deliciously rough as he takes in my naked breasts, “I would love to photograph you like this. Just for me.”
Despite the bolt of desire his words bring on, I can’t help a laugh, dragging myself up to rest against the pillows. “Remember one of those times you wanted to know what I was thinking about? Exactly that. You, naked, on the other end of my lens.”
His lips curve into a pleased grin while his eyes burn. “Guess it’s meant to be.”
My stomach flips. Something tells me Wes isn’t just talking about a naughty photo shoot. Or maybe I’m just imagining more behind the wicked tilt of his smile than there is.
“Whenever you want to take those photos, I’m all yours,” Wes adds, thankfully oblivious to the direction of my thoughts.
“After storm season.” I groan at the reminder of what’s waiting for me in just over three weeks. “And June weddings.”
Running a one-woman business takes so much time and energy there isn’t always much left over for anyone else, especially by the time my family is done with me. June is my busiest month, but my calendar is never really quiet outside of the weeks I spend on the plains.
It’s a huge part of why I’ve barely dated. The few times I tried for anything serious, the guys were always understanding—at first. That quickly morphed into almost constant complaints that I didn’t make them a priority. With Wes on the road through the end of June and then jumping right into monsoon season for the summer, our time for each other is going to be limited.
Not that he seems concerned about it.
“We’ll figure it out. Am I showering alone?”
“Yes. We need to get going,” I remind him with a playful shove. There’s nothing to be done about my worries right now. I’m just going to have to wait to see what happens when summer camp is over.
“An unfortunately valid point.” Wes saunters off to the bathroom, giving me a delicious view of his muscled ass and the tattoos running down his spine. “Don’t worry, darlin’. I’ll still send you your daily shower porn.”
“I think you need to work on your definition of porn!” I call after him with a shake of my head. He’s still laughing when the bathroom door closes.
Forcing myself out of bed, I grab a shirt from the top of his bag and pull it over my head before checking emails and messages. Of course there are at least ten from my mother, and four more from Eric.
Deciding my brother is the lesser evil, I tap his name first.
I don’t have room to store Wes’s car at the garage forever. Put it in your driveway. Keys on the counter.
You’re welcome.
Fix your second step. Almost broke my damn leg trying to get in your house.
Stay safe out there, okay? I don’t want to have to be the one to tell Mom if anything happens to you.
I’m glad Wes isn’t present to witness the riot of emotions that have me sucking in a breath. When he told me that Eric finished the repairs days ago, I wanted to believe his motivations were good. That he meant it last night when he said he isn’t interested in casual with me.
Under his antics, Wes possesses a sweet streak I never expected. He makes me feel cared for, cherished, in a way very few people ever have. He’s generous with his affection, and he’s definitely not bad in bed.
But he also loves photography with a single-minded obsession that can easily turn toward recklessness. I’ve witnessed it time and time again over the years. Dented bumpers. Shredded tires.
This season hasn’t been any different. That dangerous and pointless hook punch. His windows. The time he nearly drove us into that flooded road. Lying down in the middle of the road with a tornado barreling right at us, so distracted by his need to get his shot that we nearly got clotheslined by downed wires.
Wes goes after what he wants. It’s a quality that’s made him a successful photographer, but what would it mean for us long term? I already have a family that puts their goals, their wants, ahead of mine at every turn.
All of my mother’s relationships start out with sunny skies. I’ve seen her showered with gifts and affection time and time again. For a month. Maybe two. And then I’ve watched her smiles turn brittle over and over again, watched her exhaust herself trying harder and harder and harder to be what those men wanted in the end.
Never once has she bothered to look for the inevitable storm lurking just over the horizon. What might come after the honeymoon phase.
When it comes down to it, I still don’t know if Wes will make me a priority when it takes effort. When I’m not in the same car, or even the same state.