Page 4 of Jace
“Only if you join me,” she insists softly. “Only if you enter the contest too. You’re so talented.”
No, I’m so fucked standing this close to her. Even over the scent of cardboard, the whiff of her perfume—marshmallows and amber musk—complicates my clarity.
This darkroom is for her art.
Not the dark deeds I crave.
Vivian thinks I’m a sweet guy, and I am to her. Always. I’m also a dirty fucking man, wanting to fuck her hard on that countertop. And a beast, wanting to crack her asshole husband’s skull open on it.
I shrug. “I’m not good enough to enter.”
“Jace.” She raises a nude, manicured finger. It’s so fucking cute when she corrects me. “You have a keen eye. You can see someone’s story and capture what others can’t.”
And yet, I can’t capture you.
Vivian’s the only one who sees this side of me. The creative part of me flooded with feelings—others’ and mine. To everyone else, I’m a killing machine or a stoic bag of stones.
But to her?
I’m a friend.
Secretly in love with her.
She reads my defeat, thinking it’s over photography. “Trust me.” She steps my way. “When something makes you this happy, you’re meant to do it and, ooo… Oops.”
She stumbles over a box, grabbing my abs to steady her fall. But I fucking flinch, practically groaning at her sudden touch and trip backward, taking her down with me.
We land nose-to-nose on the bed of boxes. Her palms on my pecs. My hands on her hips. Our eyes locked and bodies aligned in the way I imagine at least three times a day, moaning her name while I watch my hard dick release what I can’t—all this love for her.
“Sorry, I… I…” she stammers, staring at me, struck mute by another one of our intense connections.
It lasts a second.
And a lifetime.
This softness between us. This deep stirring. This starvation only she can satisfy. I stifle my groan, sensing her famine matching mine.
Helplessly, she searches my eyes with it. Never willing to violate her vows, but not able to deny this aching truth breathing like another person between us.
Her husband.
“It’s okay.” I summon my strength. Biceps. Body. Broken heart. Lifting her off me. “I need to straighten up in here. I’ll have it organized by tomorrow.”
She scrambles up, dusting off. I do the same. We’re both breathless. Sometimes it’s too much between us.
“Jace, I…” she exhales with a pained sigh. “I don’t deserve you. Truly, I?—”
“Yeah, you do, Viv.” My serious tone forces our eyes to meet. “You deserve so much more. Believe me.”
I never talk shit about her husband, and neither does she. Silently, I suffer because she does.
“Viv!” Vale calls out from the front of the house, grabbing her attention. “Your client’s at the door.”
“I… uh.” Vivian turns back, warmth and regret in her gaze. “Jace, I, uh?—”
“Go.” I jerk my chin, grinning. “And have a good session.”
For hours, she does.
