Page 98 of A Shot at Love
I did that. I made him tremble.
His breathing was fast and uneven at her ear. She reached around and patted him on the hip, his muscles still quivering against her.
“See?” she said, unable to keep the laughter from her voice. “Like I told you before. Fast and hard. It’s the best.”
A laugh barked across her back as he wound his hands around her waist and hugged her tight.
Chapter Seventeen
Another day flew by while they waited for word from Bannerman. Gemma started to worry it would never come.
In the next breath, she almost wished it wouldn’t.
Never in her life had she felt so free, which was completely ridiculous. She was as far from free as a person could get, since she and Ky were prisoners in the cabin, awaiting the okay to leave. For the first time in her adult life, though, she had no assignments, deadlines, or contracts she needed to honor; no clients she needed to appease and make look good; no worries other than what to make for dinner.
Well, except for the fact that a madman wanted her dead.
Funny thing was, she’d gone from hating every minute of her confinement while at the safe house, to treasuring the solitude and the company of the man with her.
In New York, she was on the go from morning to night, moving from one photo shoot to another, meeting with clients, visiting with her family. She had her beautiful condo that many days she simply used as a place to drop her equipment before falling into bed, exhausted.
Go, go, go, day after day, week after week, shoot after shoot.
The week before she’d witnessed the shooting she’d been in London for two days photographing one of the country’s hero footballers for GQ, then Venice for a night to shoot a film star at her villa.
Here, the farthest place she could go was the surrounding woods, a far cry from the usual, bustling places she frequented.
Until a week ago she hadn’t minded being alone for most of her down time, knowing she could always visit with a sister or two, or call Kandy for a quick meal. Now, she’d gotten used to having someone around her twenty-four-seven, and couldn’t imagine what it would feel like to be left alone again.
Gemma scrolled through the photographs she’d uploaded of Ky after they’d made love, the pictures she’d cajoled him into agreeing to by telling him no one would ever see them. As she moved from one photo to the next in a slide show, she knew her original thought that every picture would be perfect was true. Ky’s was, without doubt, the most perfect body she’d ever shot. And that was saying something since she’d photographed everyone from top sports athletes to Olympic medal–winners at the peak of their success and while in the best shape of their lives.
None of them could compete with the flawlessness of Ky’s perfectly etched muscles, natural golden skin, or ocean colored eyes. She’d agreed to never show the photos to anyone but him and now regretted making the promise. Understanding his need for anonymity because of his job was a valid concern. Gemma knew how important the respect and trust of his coworkers and fellow agents was to him. But these pictures screamed to be seen by the public; admired; worshiped.
How to do that and still keep her promise was the problem.
Ky’s fingers danced along his keyboard when she looked across the great room to where he was seated. He’d been trying to tie up some lose ends concerning the Ritandi investigation for as long as she’d been sitting and working on her photos.
After waking in each other’s arms after another night of intimacy, they’d worked out in the garage, showered together, ran out of hot water because they’d lingered for so long under the spray, made a light breakfast, and then had each decided to work.
Gemma hadn’t been alone with another person for such a substantial amount of time since before she’d left for college. If she’d have been asked a week ago, she would have said she loved living alone, being alone, and not encumbered with anyone else. No distractions, no awkward conversation lags to hurdle over; no need to make small, pleasant talk or worry that the other person wasn’t feeling enough attention was being paid.
If asked today, she would have negated everything she’d said before. She felt…comfortable and at ease, was the best way to describe it, sitting across the room from Ky. He demanded nothing of her time, respecting her need and desire to work on her coffee-table book, and had silently asked for the same kind of consideration while he delved as deep as he could into the Ritandi-Tiege connection.
