“Yes. For me. Why can’t a woman take sexy pictures of herself and keep them just for herself? On days when I’m tired or I’m covered in flour and in a pair of old jeans and a T-shirt, I like to look back at pictures like this and remember the times I felt beautiful and sexy.” He swallows, his Adam’s apple slowly moving along his throat. “No one else has this?” I shake my head. Not that he deserves to know the information in the slightest. “You’re always…” His words drift off. He decides against saying whatever he was going to say as he backs away a few steps, keeping my phone in his grip.
