Off Camera (Love Through a Lens, #3)

by Chelsea Curto

“You’re not in charge of her feelings, Reid. You’re in charge of yours. You need to do what makes you happy. Otherwise, you’re going to be miserable for the next thirty years.”

“Remember how I told you to ruin me, Reid?” “Vividly,” I say, and her grin is lethal. A sexy smirk I want to feel on my cock. “Do it again,” she whispers. “Forget the bet. Forget how much we don’t like each other. One more time, then we’ll go back to not getting along.” She rolls her hips, a lazy circle that nearly has me forgetting my name. She’s dangerous, wielding too much power. “I’ll beg for it if you want me to.”

“Now look at you. Who knew the beauty queen was such a needy fucking slut?”

“Do you feel that? It’s because of you. Because I get to be here with you. And I want you to make me feel good in the way that I like. You’ve been thinking about me, Reid, haven’t you? When I’m in my bed and touching myself, I think about you too.”

“Do you have two fingers in your pussy when you’re telling me how obnoxious I am? Do you use a toy and wish it were me?”

“Yeah,” Avery whispers. “Why do you think it takes me so long to answer you sometimes? Because I’m teasing myself. Trying to drag it out so I can come right as you say something to me.”

“Is that something you’d be okay with? With me fucking you like you were mine?” “Yes,” I say right away. “I’ve never not used one, but with you, I’d be okay with it. I’m on birth control.”

“Hate sex might be my favorite thing,” I pant, and his mouth curls into a grin. “Much better than what we did before.” “You should piss me off more often.”

“I chose the wrong spot,” he mumbles, and I sit up on my elbows. “What do you mean?” “I should’ve—” His breathing turns labored. “In you. I should’ve finished in you. So I could see what you looked like. I’ve never wanted to before, but you—”

“I would’ve liked that. That would’ve been okay. I said anywhere. I meant it.”

“We need to talk about what happened in your office.” “It was a mistake. I don’t know what⁠—” “We should do it again.” I squint at her. “What?” “We should do it again,” she repeats, and there’s more gusto behind it the second time. “Sex. You and me. Together.” “What—”

“Why—how—what’s your reasoning?” “We have chemistry. I don’t like to mix business with pleasure, but you can’t deny that we click in the bedroom. Sex with you is a good way to work out the tension I have from my job—a job that’s about to get even more busy and chaotic. Knowing there won’t be a relationship that stems from it means I—we—can enjoy the physical aspect without getting attached,” she says, and I wonder if she’s rehearsed this. “I don’t have time to date, but I do have time to get fucked. That’s what I want, and I want it with you.” I blink. I think I’m hallucinating. I think I’m having a heart attack. There’s no way in hell this woman is saying what I think she’s saying. “We can’t stand each other,” I tell her. It’s the first thing that comes to mind. “We can’t stand each other outside the bedroom. Inside the bedroom, we really enjoy each other. Don’t we?”

“Yes…” I say cautiously. I feel like this is a trap. A ploy to get me to admit something I don’t want to admit. “And you want to do it again?” “I do. Casually. Like what we were going to do before.” “What do I get out of it?” I ask, and she lifts an eyebrow. “Is sex with me not enough?” “It is.” I clear my throat. The cafe feels a hundred degrees warmer than it did twenty minutes ago. “What do you get out of this?” “Orgasms with someone who understands my schedule and doesn’t expect me to call every night.” “How often?” “Whenever we want.”

“I don’t want to get it out of my system,” she says matter-of-factly. “No one’s taken care of me the way you do, and I want it again.” I grip the

She was looking at me, and that makes me feel like a real smug bastard.

Baby. My skin heats at the affectionate name. He doesn’t use it every time we’re together, but when he does, it sparks a fire inside me. It makes me feel sensual, powerful, a woman who can have whatever she wants.

They’re all so happy, with so much love on display, and I think back to Reid telling me about his broken relationship with his dad. It makes me glad to know he has a support system. People he can rely on when the going gets tough. Everyone needs a family like that.

But that same feeling that struck me the night at the bar when we met strikes me again; I don’t want to go. I don’t want to be alone. I want to be with him.

“Think you might care about me, Sinclair,” he says into my hair, and I’m struck with the sudden and horrifying realization I do care about him. “Just a little bit.”

“In your dreams, Duncan,” I say, even though we both know I’m lying.

I kiss him not because we’re in the heat of the moment, but because I want to.

“You’re beautiful,” Reid murmurs, and I tuck it away close to my chest. “Sometimes I still can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

“Like you’re mine.”

It’s been so long since I’ve belonged to someone, but I like how it feels with Reid. Like coming home after a long day, comfortable and familiar.

“You don’t need to step anything up. You drive me crazy.”

“All the fucking time. With your text messages. With your photos. When you’re ribbing me on your official account.” Reid drags his thumb over my bottom lip. “The things I want to do to this smart fucking mouth.”

Reid examines every nook and cranny, and I wring my hands together. I don’t know why I’ve been hesitant to show him my apartment. In a way, it feels like the next step someone would take in a relationship. Maybe I’m afraid he’ll find something he doesn’t like and run away. Maybe I want him to feel like he has a place here, a spot where he belongs too.

I’ve always been the popular girl. I was prom queen and cheerleading captain in high school. President of my sorority in college and homecoming queen. The one who had dozens of friends and could always find someone to talk to. In my twenties, that popularity mixed into my dating life. I could score any guy I wanted, and I wouldn’t think twice about their opinion of me or how I was perceived. If they thought I was silly for wearing dresses to work and six-inch heels because I liked how they made my legs look, I didn’t care. My confidence with men has wavered in the last few years, though. After my breakup with Peter, I’ve become unsure of myself. Worried that maybe I’m not enough. Scared to share parts of my life I used to give away freely.

Reid is the first guy to be in my apartment, and it feels like that’s important.

“Fuck, I’ve missed you.” “You talked to me every day.” “Not the same. I don’t like going so long without seeing you.” “So don’t.” I peel off my shirt, desperate for him. “Come by anytime.” “That won’t bother you?” He pulls the cups of my bra down and palms my left breast. His mouth closes over my nipple and I sigh, ready to chase the relief I’ve craved since I woke up this morning. “I don’t want to take up too much of your time.” “I—ah. It won’t be time wasted when I know I’m going to get this out of it.”

“I want you more than I’ve wanted anyone else, Reid.”

This doesn’t feel like fucking. This isn’t the game we usually play. It’s tender and gentle and sex in its most real form. Vulnerable. Raw and taking our time. I want him to stay inside me forever. I want him to take over my heart and my mind, and when our gazes meet, I swear there are stars behind his eyes.

A moan escapes me, and I’ll never get over how good he makes me feel. How full and how perfect, and how sometimes, when he’s looking at me like this, I think the moment could last forever.

Ruin me, Reid. I’d like to do that again. “Do you like what you see?” she whispers, and I bob my head. I fucking love what I see. It’s the most possessive I’ve ever felt, and a word echoes in my head. Mine. For the first time since we started this thing between us, I wonder what it would be like if she were mine for real. Would we have the same chemistry? The same tension?

“How do you feel about something serious now?” I stupidly ask.

“It doesn’t seem nearly as scary as it did before,” she admits. “Meeting you has reminded me of how much good is left in the world. How much love there is to give and receive. Look at you and your friends. Look at me and Maven, and now Emmy, too. I’m happier than I was back then, and that’s a wonderful thing.”

There’s a maniacal part of me that has the burning desire to support Avery. I don’t want to make this situation about me, but I want her to know I have her back. That not everyone thinks like this prick does. I want her to know she’s valued. She’s appreciated, and she’s damn good at what she does. Fuck the bet. Fuck the game. This is bigger than that.

“You can take care of yourself. I see that. I know that. You’re a strong, independent woman, Ave, and that’s badass. But I’d like to help a little bit. If you’ll let me.”

It would be easy for him to brush aside my problems. Deem them not his problem and walk away. He’s not, though. He’s offering me a hand. Figuring out how he can carry some of the load, and no one has ever done that for me before.

“You remember what Andrew said. He told me to tone it down. I’m doing too much. I’ve always felt like… like I

take up too much space. Like my dreams are too big. Like I’m wrong for wanting to be the best in an industry that tries so hard to make me feel small and shove me in a tiny box.”

“You don’t take up too much space, Avery,” Reid says around a shaky breath. “You should take up more. All of it, if you can, and the last place a person li...

“Thank you for being here. For being there for me at the game on Sunday. For…” I trail off, the words difficult to find. “Thank you for pausing the feud so you could be on my side.”

“Ah.” He pushes his glasses up his nose. “We never paused the feud. Competition or not, I meant every word.”

“You did?” I ask, and my heart thumps in my chest ...

“You never take up too much space, Ave. Not with me,” he says. “I think I’d like yo...

Lately, I think I’d like for you to give your attention to me. Just to me,” I say, sharing the thought that’s been on my mind all week. “In the bedroom. And outside it too.”

She hums and steps closer. Her hand moves to my collar and tugs. “I’d like that,” she whispers.

“You w...

“Yeah. We work well in the bedroom. Maybe we could try… out of the bedroom. Maybe not dating but…going places with our friends? Together? Like tonight. We could’ve c...