Off Camera (Love Through a Lens, #3)

by Chelsea Curto

Tired of guys who believe women are only allowed to occupy certain spaces in the world. I don’t know when common decency—like holding the door open and not making sexist jokes—became the bare fucking minimum, but gosh I hate it here.

I’m a people-pleaser. I—I like to be needed and appreciated. It’s almost impossible for me to disappoint someone, even if that person is the scum of the earth,”

“I always liked Kraven’s Last Hunt.” He blinks at me. “You read comic books?” “Do I not look like I would?”

“You’re pretty. Very pretty, and also the first woman who hasn’t made fun of me for liking superheroes. I’m wondering if my friends put you

up to this as some sort of dare, because I’m not sure what the hell I did to have someone as gorgeous as you rattle off comic book titles at me.”

“I don’t know about that. I’m having a lot of fun talking to you,” I say, and he blushes again. “And I’m sorry people have made fun of the things that bring you joy.”

“You don’t wear boat shoes to events where the dinner plate costs two hundred bucks a head?”

“Fuck no,” he says. “Crocs only.”

“Not at all.” He turns the phone over with a swift flick of his wrist, and the gesture makes my heart skip a beat. It makes me think he wants to keep talking to me. “It’s all work stuff. My job never stops, and it would do me some good to ignore it for a few minutes.”

I never tell anyone the real answer so soon after meeting them. It’s always followed by comments and opinions that make my blood boil. And tonight, after I feel like I’ve already been dragged through the mud, I really don’t want to trudge through hell again. “Marketing,” I tell him. Technically, it’s not a lie. Managing the Baltimore Thunderhawks’ social media does involve marketing.

“Claire,” I say, using my middle name and hoping he doesn’t notice. After too many awkward situations with men tracking me down on social media and flooding my DMs asking for tickets to games, it’s become my go-to until I get to know a guy.

She’s funny. Quick-witted and smart. Gorgeous and a total knockout. And when she dropped a comic book title into casual conversation like she was talking about the weather? My heart almost fell out of my chest.

“I’ve been guarding these with my life.” Maverick puts a hand over his chest. Emmy’s initials are tattooed on his ring finger, and I smile at how quickly the former playboy turned into a lovesick idiot. He’s head over ass for her, totally fucking obsessed, and I almost got whiplash from how quickly he changed his tune about settling down. “This is the most important thing you’ve ever asked me to do.”

I’ve been thinking about Reid since I met him last weekend. I wasn’t sure I’d be lucky enough to see him again, and now he’s on top of me. Close enough so I can smell his cologne and see the flecks of gold in his eyes.

He’s smart. Nerdy and quiet until you get him talking about something he’s passionate about, then he goes a mile a minute.

I’ve already gathered that Reid is different. He’s shy. Hesitant in believing he could hold the titles of good-looking and most attractive. A guy who would rather fade into the background than steal the spotlight. But gosh, he could be the star of the show.

“Come find me later, Reid. Maybe we can finish what we started the other night at the bar.”

I’m an only child, and for the decade I’ve known these guys, I’ve considered them my brothers. We’d do anything for each other.

“I don’t think I’m doing anything. You’re just hanging out with the wrong people.” The overhead lighting dims. The atmosphere turns intimate. “Guys who don’t deserve your attention,” he says, looking at me.

“They’re my best friends.” He shrugs, and a button presses into my cheek. “I don’t see them as superstars. I see them as the guys who get their nails painted because June wants to try out a new color, and the dorks who spend hours playing video games with me. To the rest of the world, they’re gods. Athletic freaks of nature with gifts people would drain their entire life savings to have. But with me, they’re just the people I can call in the middle of the night if I need to talk.”

“You don’t strike me as someone who takes what they want.” I run my hands up his chest and tug on his tie. “But you can be greedy with me, Reid.”

I nudge her hand out of the way. I drag my thumb across the seam of the lace, and she whimpers. “You’re already wet. I want—fuck, Avery. Can I see?” She puts her hand on my head and slowly pushes me to the ground. “You can taste too.” “Fuck,” I say again, because every other word seems inadequate.

“You really are giving the wrong people your attention. I’m here, and I like loud. I like enthusiastic. I want you to tell me what you’re thinking, and I want to talk you through it. Would that be okay?”

I love when the quiet ones surprise you. Just when you think you have them figured out, they do something out of character, like get on their knees and eat you out like you’re their favorite meal. Reid is a marvel, some sex-god sent to give me the best orgasm I’ve ever experienced in my life.

It’s my undoing. That such a soft, sweet man could know the exact words to tip me over the edge to pure bliss is mind-blowing, but I welcome it.

“I want you to fuck me, Reid. I don’t want to be good. Not tonight.”

“I don’t want to be good tonight either.”

I’m a sexual woman. I use toys. I’m vocal about what I want and how I want it without feeling any shame or guilt.

“What if I don’t want this to be a one-night stand? What if I want to see you again?” I ask.

“I’d like that,” she says. “You mentioned something about dinner.”

I’ve never been a dominant guy in the bedroom, but something about Avery makes me want to take control and have her every way I could ever want.

“Am I dead?” Reid pants, putting one hand on either side of my head as he calms down. “I think I might be dead.” “I’m heading that way too.” I close my eyes and blow out a long breath. “Maybe we’re both in heaven.” “I definitely am. I’m still inside you, and you’re fucking nirvana.”

“Tell me about your ideal day.” “You’re going to think I’m stuck-up.” Reid frowns. “Have people called your ideal day stuck-up before?” “Maybe.” “Attention. Me.” He traces the underside of my breast. “Not them.”

“There’s no shame in doing things that make you happy.”

of dreams. “Fuck, that sounds creepy.” “You were writing my name in your diary, weren’t you? Playing MASH and using me on your lists of wives.”

What did you tell your friends?” “How I was kicking myself for not getting your number at the bar. And then you show up here tonight, and… I don’t know. As someone who likes routine and order and hates being surprised, I’m beginning to think I might need to start going with the flow more often. Especially if that means I’ll get you as a result.”

“Nothing. Just—” Reid shakes his head. “You. This. Stuff like this doesn’t happen to me. It happens to my friends, and…” He trails off. “It feels like I’ve been dreaming for the last two hours.” “It feels like that for me too,” I admit.

I’m not a big believer of fate or divine intervention, but as I head out of his room with my heels in my hand and a final look over my shoulder where I find him watching me walk away, I can’t help but think Reid was sent to me for a very specific reason.

“I’m impressed. I’m used to people telling me romance books are stupid and I should read something with real substance.”

“So, you’re not looking for anything serious right now?”

“I’m not, but that doesn’t mean I want to stop seeing you.”

“Are you thinking a friends with benefits thing?”

“I guess.” I slide my hand up her leg. “But I also want to make you dinner every now and then. Read a comic book with you in bed and go get ice cream. That stuff sounds like a relationship, but I need to keep my emotions in check. Just for a few months. Does that make me a piece of shit?” “No.” Avery slips her palms under my shirt and runs them up my back. I shiver at her touch. “It’s a good idea. My life is pretty chaotic too, and there are going to be days when I can’t answer my phone for hours. I’d never want you—or anyone I was seeing—to feel like they were second on my list of priorities.”

“Are you okay with a strictly physical ...

“Yeah,” she says. “Because I’d really like to have you again.”

I learned a long time ago family isn’t what you’re born into. It’s the people you pick up along the way. The friends in that photo are my family now, and I really fucking miss them.

Brown hair and brown eyes. A bright smile and a soft laugh. That same hand she’s using to wave to the crowd was in my pants forty-eight hours ago, and I suck in a sharp breath. Avery runs the Thunderhawks’ social media accounts? Avery is who I talk to every day? Avery drives me up a goddamn wall? What the fucking fuck is going on?

“I knew it. Emmy, Maverick’s fiancée, and I always say we think Reid could be the best of the three boys in bed. He’s very thorough, and he gives his full attention to things. I figured that applied to taking care of women too.” Her grin is sly and catlike. “I bet he has notes on what you like.”

“Oh my god.” Maverick collapses to the floor. “That’s the longest I’ve ever gone without talking.” “How did you survive?” I ask. He pushes the door open and gulps down a breath of air. “It was tough.”

“Just because our experiences are different doesn’t mean yours is less important.”