Scrupulous (An Affliction of Falling Novel Book 1) (14 page)

Funny, thoughts of that place have slipped into the back of my mind as well since I’ve become addicted to a piece of ass that keeps trying to push me away. Ah, hell, maybe some distance for a night might do us both some good. I can’t think clearly as it is when we are together.

Sorcha

Getting out of the cab barefoot, carrying my boots with me, I am surprised not to see Gavin leaning against my building looking dangerous.
Huh
. Heading in and up the stairs with my heart beating faster, it quickly sinks when I realize that he isn’t in my hallway either. Is he not coming? Bastard better not have let himself into my flat with his questionable methods. Opening my door and readying myself to yell at him, I find the studio empty and dark. It is four in the morning; guess he isn’t coming.

Showering and climbing into bed, I toss and turn over this odd sense of… disappointment? I don’t even have his cell phone number to call him, and I don’t have any missed messages from him. God knows he probably has that information too. Bastard, abusing his privileges to pry into people’s lives.

∞

I’m submerged in the dark room at the studio, my hands working rhythmically over the film as I prepare the latest roll of negatives. Exposing the film, I gently soak it in water to slightly swell the gelatin layer before moving it to the developer bath. A bit old school of me, but it was my personal opinion that this small step produced better negatives to work from by potentiating the following chemical baths. This roll would be black and white. Well, most of my work was done in that gradient as it was a more elegant and timeless form. Occasionally, I allowed small bits of color here and there but kept to the overall grey scale. As my films slip into the stop bath, I hear the side door open to the small room, which makes me bristle. Not all my film is through the complete dark process and the risk of any light could ruin them. Fucking newbies always inpatient, trying to rush others out of the box so that they can get started.

“I am almost done in here, if you could please give me another fifteen minutes,” I ask as nicely as I can without looking up from my task. This was a crucial step in my madness of processing and needs a close eye. The one issue with renting studio time is sharing space. Even when you schedule in advance, a few are sometimes overlapped. But even so, when the damn light is on over the outside door, don’t come in!

“Should I come back then?” Gavin’s timbre caresses me from across the short distance, causing my skin to goose bump on impact.

“Look who the cat dragged in. Doesn’t know how to let a girl know when he isn’t going to show but keeps up his grade-A stalking.” It isn’t all that surprising he found out where I am. His shenanigans are becoming less and less alarming despite them being far from normal. Between his underhanded methods and Samuel ratting me out, I don’t stand a chance.

“When were you going to tell me about this little skill of yours?” His displeased tone hints with disappointment.

“Kinda hard to have a proper conversation when all we do is fuck and argue. And you didn’t answer the question.” My eyes stay glued to the film as I use the tongs to rotate the pieces from bath to bath.

“Work ran late. There is nothing left to say.” The fabric of his dress shirt sighs with his shrug and his finality on the topic rings out.

Hanging a few strips of negatives to dry, I move the last into the stop bath and focus on the few in the fixer solution that need to enter the washing stage.

“If it is that cut and dry, then why are you here?” I dismissively retort.

“Do you honestly think after how you acted last night that I was going to rush right over after work? You needed time to think about things. Absence makes the heart grow fonder, pet.”

My cheeks heat under a surge of anger, and I take a few deep breaths. “Sod off, Gavin. I don’t do games. And I
don’t
do people telling me what I do and don’t need.”

In the span of a few more cleansing inhalations, he comes up behind me and runs his hand up the back of my neck in a tender fashion, making me tremble slightly in pleasure. My spine suddenly goes rod straight under the onslaught of exquisite contact, knowing full well it’s laced with a tinge of aggression. My suspicions are confirmed when he continues into my hair. Grabbing a handful, he inclines my head back into him about an inch. Just enough to verge on uncomfortable but still remain erotic.

“Sorcha, did it ever cross your mind that you may need a little help with developing better communication with those who are in your life?” he purrs, running the tip of his nose down my neck.

“Of course, Sir. Would you please get your paws off me before my film is ruined?” I grit out, trying not to give into the inebriating invitation. As quickly as I had been wrangled, I am released. As I rapidly move the last of my films into the wash and up to dry, the silence becomes suffocating as his unyielding presence doesn’t move an inch. His quiet, commanding edge begins to close in on me.

As the last is clipped onto the line, I move to wash my hands at the little room’s sinks but don’t get as far as drying before he flips me around, cradles my head, and slants his mouth hard over mine. His mouth demands entrance and I part, giving him all I had, unnamed longing ruling over logic. The effect is dizzying, sending any ill feelings skittering off. Pulling away, he gazes at me under the red glow of the tiny black room’s processing light.

“I’ve been hungry for that since I left you standing in the kitchen all wet,” he growls.

“Stop. If you want to improve our communication, then how about we actually try talking? I agree some space was needed after yesterday’s conversation, but telling someone that you will see them after work and never showing up is a bit rude. If you want me to open up to you more, then you have to talk to me. I am not the kind of girl who will be blowing up your phone and begging for you every minute of the day. If you need to work or take care of something, I respect that and don’t need a full reasoning on the whys, just the heads-up.” I slip out from his grasp, shaking the effect off to gather up my supplies and put them away in my assigned cabinet. Time here is precious and leaving the space ready for the next is important.

“For someone who just wants to be fuck buddies, that is a bit of a lofty request,” he says, scoffing.

“No, it is common decency. And after the way you acted yesterday, it is the least you can do.”

“Oh, really, love?” It is obvious we are both still miffed at one another. There is that accent again.

“Where are you from?”

“You actually want to know something about me?” He feigns a shocked look as his dress shoes scuff against the cement floor.

“You already know everything about me. It’s only fair.”

“We are playing tit for tat then?” He intentionally says in his full accent, not attempting to hide it all.

“Goddamn it, you are a Brit, aren’t you?” Breonna was right, again.

“Have something against that?” he cocks a brow at me.

“No, absolutely not. It just proves my sister was right, again. My family may have something to say about it, though. I may have been raised here, but they still prefer me to end up with good Celtic stock,” I mutter as my hands nervously tug at the hem of my floral tunic. Discussing the concept of ‘ending up’ with one person still leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

“So, you only want to be fuck buddies but are considering introducing me to your family?” The mocking humor is evident in the creases around his eyes under the red glow.

“I am a planner. It is completely natural to think ahead.”

“You mean that you are too damn scrupulous.” He grins.

“Are we going to clear up what happened yesterday or not?” I pointedly ignore him.

“That might be a bit too adult of us.” That thick British accent seeps through the little room, rendering me stupid momentarily. I’ve never known another to be able to turn their accent on and off so fluidly. It’s difficult and I slip up all the time.

“Goodbye, Gavin.” I slip away and open the door to leave, but he catches it and abruptly closes it.

“Alright! We both are hardheaded buggers. Yes, I have been pushing you fast and hard for completely selfish reasons and no, I don’t have any issue with your lifestyle choices in the grand scheme of things. I am a selfish bastard and that all comes down to my personal issues. Are you willing to concede that you like me more than you care to admit? And that we share something special?” His intense, warm eyes are about to swallow me up whole.

“Yes, that’s all true. Not that I know what to do with it at the moment.” He wraps an arm around my waist and kisses me gently. “Alright ya bastard, we need to get out of here before the next in line walks in,” I chastise.

“I know it’s an Irish thing, but that mouth is racking up a debt,” he grumbles low into my ear.

“Come on, I want to shoot you.” I sling my bag and grab his hand, happy to have taken a step forward.

“I am hoping you don’t mean in a violent sense.” I shake my head at him and pull him towards the door.

After a short trolley ride to the pier, I palm up my trusty camera and begin loading a new role of film. I rather liked the uncertainty of film photography over the instant gratification of digital. It is like Christmas when you develop the negatives. Each one slowly unwraps during the developing process and all is revealed. Some are immediate throwaways, some unexpected surprises, and others stop you in their tracks when you see your vision at the capture-made-reality.  He had let me get a few shots on the ride over, but his strong features needed the churning of the ocean in the background. I don’t think he was taking it very seriously either.

“Come on then.” I stalk past the sea-worn shacks brimming with the scents of ocean wonders being cooked to perfection. The sights and smells at many of the piers had that underlying signature blend of sea, fish, and a musty dank that isn’t overpowering, just takes a bit of getting used to. He catches me with a few long strides and takes my hand.

“What’s the rush?” His amber eyes gleam in the overcast late afternoon light. “This might just be our first proper date. Let me enjoy the moment.” He slows our pace to a stroll as we people watch on our way.

“Date? Who said anything about a date?” I joke and bump my hip slightly into his.

“I deem it so. By the power invested in me, Sorcha, we are officially on a date.”

I giggle like a ridiculous schoolgirl as we near a stretch of rail that has some of the rocky beach below as background. A touch of sun peeks through above to provide wicked good lighting that enhances the angles of his face. “Here.” Pulling away, I ‘shoo’ a few scraggly pigeons, sending them off in a flurry of bird dander and escaped downy feathers. Leaning against the rail, I show him which way to pose. “Like this, I want a profile of you.” My canvas shoes peek through the railing as I curiously turn to lean down to see what the rocky shore might have to offer.

“Bossy little thing, aren’t you? Who said I was going to pose like some GQ sod?” Gavin attempts to give me an incredulous look but fails, miserably.

“Please, Daddy? I promise I will be an extra good girl,” I jest in my best whiney, pouty rendition while attempting to shake off the sexy effect of his full British accent. That is going to take some getting used to. My intent was far from serious but the mix of emotions that flit over his face and land on that signature grin of his tell me he rather liked it. Good grief.

Without another word, he saunters over and strikes a pose. Through the lens of my “oldie but goody” Nikon 35mm camera, his breathtaking features strike me as he seems to radiate against the grayed background with the perfect amount of shadowing across his face. No doubt about it, Gavin is gorgeous. Lost in the moment and captivated by my subject, my hands go to work on their own, adjusting the lens and pushing down on the buttons needed to suspend this moment for all to see.

“You might be getting a bit carried away, love.” He smiles─
click
. Perfect. A few realist shots of him acting natural will top this off.

“Shall we grab a bite?” Yes, there is an alternate motive to that question.

“Tired of your subject matter already?”

“Not at all, but the clam chowder and sourdough bread wafting over is winning my attention over said subject matter.”

“Passed over so easily for a few scraps of food? That is a first.”

“This ass doesn’t keep its thickness by eating salads.”

“And beings that skinny asses are not allowed, let’s eat.” He playfully smacks my backside with perfect aim. The sting is just enough to spread a delicious warmth from the point of contact down to my thighs, but it isn’t painful in the slightest.

Curled around two chowder-filled bread bowls as a light sea wind picks up and dances around us, a sense of rightness captures me. Gavin is shoveling it in and the urge to seize his food-induced pleasure becomes too great. Picking up ‘ole faithful,’ I sneak a few shots before he looks up with a dribble of chowder escaping by way of his lip. He narrows his eyes menacingly and extends his tongue to quickly catch it. His amber eyes burn as his short, toffee-colored hair lifts in the breeze. The sight of his tongue stroking across his lips has me quickly clenching my thighs together as I put the camera away and grin at the displeasure still written across his classic expression.