Caught on Camera (Love Through a Lens, #1)

by Chelsea Curto

“Will you go on an adventure with me?” “Yeah.” Lacey nods, and I’m going to pretend she’s agreeing to every adventure with me, not just this one. “I will.”

“Wow,” she whispers, and I look down at her. “It’s beautiful.” “Yeah,” I agree, but I’m busy studying every inch of her face. Her button nose. The slope of her jaw. The stars twinkling in her eyes. “It is.”

“I’m going to take care of your heart. I’m going to take care of your brilliant fucking mind. Lift up your shirt. I want to see your tits bounce when you come.”

“Don’t stop. Please.” “I’m never going to stop,” he whispers in my ear. “You’re going to be mine until the end of time, Lacey girl. Now come on my fingers, beautiful, so I can taste you.”

I’ll take one more day with her over a thousand with anyone else.

It’s the most intimate I’ve ever been with a woman. It feels more monumental than fucking her into a mattress for the first time, like there’s weight in the way I use the conditioner next and rinse that out, too.

She tastes like the whipped cream on the top of the pie we had for dessert, sweet and sugary and a delicious slice of heaven. Lacey climbs into my lap and hovers over me, her thighs on either side of my hips and a question in her eyes. “Yes,” I say, and my hand curls around her throat. “The answer is always yes. Tonight. Tomorrow. Six months from now. Everything I have is yours, Lacey girl.”

“I feel you everywhere.” Her palm folds over the one wrapped around her neck, and she drags my hand to her chest. “Here,” she says, and my hand squeezes her tit. She moves our hands to between her legs, her fingers brushing against mine. “Here.” She guides my hand to her heart, and I feel it race under my touch. “And here.”

I love her. I love her. I love her, I think as I lift her out of the water and carry her to my bed, her laughter something I want to get tattooed across my skin to keep forever.

“Forever is a long time,” I say. “And it still wouldn’t be long enough. I love you so very much. I think maybe I’ve always loved you,” he whispers. His voice is hoarse, but he’s sincere, resolute, a sure thing he knows with absolute certainty.

“Sometimes I think you’re this perfect person I dreamed up.” He takes a deep breath, and energy builds between us. “And it scares me you might not be real. That what we have might not be real.” “I’m real,” I say, and my eyes prickle with tears. “And this is real. What I feel for you is as real as the sky is blue.”

“You were made for me,” he says into the valley of my chest, his hand cupping my breast and his tongue circling my nipple. His hips lift, and there’s no more space between us.

“I love you,” I say. “I love you so much.” “I love you too, Lacey girl,” he says. He drags his gaze up to meet mine, and he stares at me with adoration in his eyes. “Show me,” I whisper, and he does. Over and over again until the moon turns into the sun and the starry night gives way to morning.