“Fuck,” I whispered, feeling my body respond immediately to the image. She was gorgeous. Soft curves and creamy skin that I ached to touch, to taste.
I typed carefully, knowing my response mattered.
You are absolutely fucking breathtaking.
There’s more, but you’ll have to wait to see it in person.
My pulse kicked up another notch. I stared at the image, unable to tear my eyes away. After several moments of just looking at her, drinking her in, I managed to type a response.
The anticipation might end me.
The typing dots appeared immediately.
Your turn.
At first, I was confused. Then it clicked. She wanted me to reciprocate. To send her a photo of myself.
“Shit,” I muttered, running a hand through my still-damp hair. I’d never taken that kind of picture before. The whole concept seemed foreign, uncomfortable even. What was I supposed to do? Strike some pose? Flex like an idiot? The thought of staging a selfie made my skin crawl.
But Mia had stepped out of her comfort zone too, hadn’t she? She’d been brave enough to send me that image, fighting pasther insecurities and self-doubt to share something vulnerable with me. I couldn’t leave her hanging.
I glanced around the bathroom, catching my reflection in the mirror. I was still wrapped in the towel from the shower, water beading on my shoulders, hair pushed back from my face. Not perfect, but it would have to do.
My phone felt foreign in my hand as I raised it, angling to capture just my torso and part of my face. The flash lit up the steamy bathroom, and I quickly sent it before I could talk myself out of it.
Happy now?
The dots appeared instantly, disappeared, then reappeared.
VERY happy. You have no idea.
Something possessive and primal surged through me at her response. The knowledge that she wanted to see me, that my image affected her the way hers affected me.
Now who’s being a tease? You’re making it very difficult to focus on anything else today.
I smiled at that, a dangerous edge to my thoughts.
Good.
You’re evil. I wasn’t planning on spending my Saturday afternoon thinking about you.
That knowledge sent heat rushing through me. Mia, at home, unable to get me out of her head.
And now?
Now I might have to take a very cold shower.
My pulse jumped at the implication.
What are your plans for the rest of the day?
Trying not to drive to your house.
The three dots appeared instantly, then disappeared. When her response finally came through, it was just:
Oh.
That single word, loaded with meaning. I could picture her in her bedroom, staring at her phone, maybe biting that full lower lip of hers while she decided what to say next.
