Wrapped Around My Finger (9 page)

“That’s what we should call the show. Second Chances. It doesn’t have a name yet.” Leah laughed, carefully following my lead. “How’d you do that without dropping your camera bag?” The barrier was wider at the bottom than the top, and she inched down until she reached me.

“Years of practice.”

“What is this place? An old stadium?” she asked as we approached the spot where someone would’ve taken our tickets, making sure we were where we belonged. Good thing that guy had the last twenty or so years off.

“It was a marine amphitheater. People could watch speedboats, other water sports, and eventually they had concerts here, too.” I loved the look on Leah’s face as she took it all in. If I’d doubted her sincerity about the project on the way in, her expression proved she had it in spades. “Hurricane Andrew handed this area its ass in the nineties, and that was the end of this place.”

Spray paint covered almost every surface. Some of it crude and intentionally destructive, other patches were declarations or desperate messages, and there was even more of it that was beautiful, whether it was supposed to be or not. I found the things that no one was meant to appreciate the most fascinating.

“This is amazing. It’s haunting, sad, and intriguing.” She stopped to admire a mural, the abstract side of a woman’s face painted in yellows, blues, and greens. The artist had found a way to make the eye catch your gaze and hold it. Leah’s fingers tightened around mine, to make sure I shared the moment. “The best art is the stuff no one intended to have an audience. It’s done for personal satisfaction. It’s so honest. I think that’s why I like interior design so much. You don’t get much more personal than someone’s home, but in a way, this goes much deeper than that.”

Whether she knew anything about the medium or not, Leah got it, on that visceral level that couldn’t be taught. It was the same place where we’d become hopelessly intertwined, growing from the same root, dependent on each other to survive.

We walked through the concourse, the dark shadows adding another layer of depth to the messages underneath. The sun slapped us in the face when we reached the seats. I let Leah take the lead, wandering through the rows, stopping whenever something interested her.

“Sit in one of them. Let me take your picture.” I pulled one of the seats down with my foot.

Leah’s mouth opened to protest, but then her lips slid into a seductive smile. “Not like last time.”

We’d done a boudoir, striptease photoshoot the weekend of the reunion. Leah moved in front of the camera like it had been invented just to capture her. My cock was as hard as the concrete we stood on thinking about it. I looked at those photos every day, never wanting to let the night she claimed me slip away.

I shook my head. “It would be cool if you had some headshots in a place like this for the new show.”

She shook her hair out and rubbed her lips together. “I’m a mess.”

I rolled my eyes, and she grinned. I didn’t have to do anything else to let her know I was calling her out on her bullshit. She could roll in mud and still be gorgeous. “You shouldn’t be perfect in this setting. It would be too much of a juxtaposition. Let your hair be wild and your lipstick smeared. The art should be the perfect thing. It’s a much more interesting picture. Use them on your blog. Let your viewers see the real you.” I stopped myself before adding
the one I fell hopelessly in love with
. We hadn’t had that conversation yet. I was pretty sure she knew, but it could ruin everything. “Not the one that spends two hours in hair and makeup.”

She’d texted me many times in the thick of things, her hair in big barrel curls and wearing far too much makeup. The end result was always breathtaking, but it wasn’t Leah. It was a character she played.

Leah sank into the seat, twisting her hands in her lap. “Or you could keep them for yourself.”

I climbed down a row and took the camera out of my bag. I looked through the lens, checking the angle by snapping a shot. I was used to working with the sun instead of against it. It didn’t bother me if parts of the photo were blown out; I shot nature, and I was all about keeping it real. One more row back was perfect. “How about we take the pictures first and then decide how to use them? Okay, you know how to do this.”

She positioned herself in that awkward way that looked so good on camera. All movements had to be exaggerated to make features stand out and accentuate curves. The first few shots were always stiff for everyone.

“Do you want me to just look at you?” she asked tentatively.

That had been my only request last time. Everything inside me throbbed, the camera intensified the ever-present electricity between us. “Not this time. Look around. I want to play with the angles.”

I had no idea why she was nervous. Leah was a natural in front of the camera. She didn’t need hours of primping to make it happen, either. It was the way she moved, her face lit up and her eyes sparkled. I
believed
every move she made. It was the secret to her success. I crouched down, experimenting with the shots as she moved. Once she loosened up, she wasn’t afraid to try new things. She stood, so I shot up the line of her body, and then she crouched down, resting her forearms on the row of chairs between us and looked down the barrel of my lens.

She practically crawled inside me when she did that. I couldn’t concentrate. “Let’s find another place to shoot.”

“After you.” Leah stretched her arms. Photoshoots were much harder than anyone gave most models credit for. Physically demanding and intense because they needed to concentrate on all the stuff that usually happened on autopilot.

I already knew where I wanted to go. This had been my plan all along. Leah had become my muse, and I wanted to photograph her everywhere. It was a whole new medium I’d never dabbled in. All my life I’d practiced the craft of sexuality, but I’d always considered it separate from my art. When I blended the two, magic happened. I led her to a mural that someone had painted on the side of one of the seating sections. This was one was planned, and it looked like a political poster found in a country a dictator held in its firm grip. “Stand right here.” I motioned to the edge of the image.

Leah pushed up her sleeves and stood against the wall, waiting for me, just like yesterday. Knee bent, arms back against the concrete. I took a couple shots and nodded, giving this photoshoot my total concentration. She tried a couple different poses, settling with her arm bent over her head, and looked to the side.

Fuck, that was amazing.

“Hold that,” I commanded. I needed to get it from every angle to make sure I did her justice. She held the pose, but her eyes shifted back to me, her mouth parted slightly, and I had no idea it could get any better. I kept shooting, my trance only was broken by her laughter.

“You’re way too close.” She nudged the camera, and then took my face in her hands and nipped my lips.

“I thought you liked that.” The kisses deepened, and I knew damn well she liked it. The camera dangled from my wrist. I nudged my leg between hers, and my cock throbbed. “You liked it last night.”

She stole a couple quick glances to either side. “This place is abandoned.”

I shook my head. “Doesn’t mean no one’s around.”

“We had to climb over a concrete wall to get in here. Anyone who bothers to do that deserves to catch us in action.” Her hand slipped below my waist, close to my cock. If she touched it, all bets were off.

I learned something new about Leah that day. She craved danger. I was dying to find out how far she’d go, if I could get her to cross the line and see what life was like on the other side. But not here.

“Don’t think I’m not tempted. The reason I’m not taking you up on your offer is because there’s a group that’s been working on this place. They want to host a yacht show or some bullshit here in a couple weeks. If they’re going to do that, they’ll restore it.”

She cocked her head in confusion. “You don’t want them to fix it up?”

“Hell no. This is the good stuff. They’ll take everything unique away and make it totally sterile. There will be no reason to remember it. It will be another place rich people get together and talk about their money. They don’t give a fuck where they are. I’ve been to enough of those things to know that I don’t want them here.”

Leah sighed. “I wish you’d come work with us. You have no idea what having someone with your vision would add to the project. It would totally set us apart from every other design show. You could tell us when to restore, but more importantly, when to leave something alone. And why. I don’t think the idea is genius because I’m in love with you—“

She stopped, her eyes wide. She bit her lip and the corners of her mouth turned upward, not taking it back. “—I didn’t expect it to come out like that.”

I snaked my hand into her hair and crashed against her in a kiss. The answer should’ve been
I love you too
, but that was fucking boring. Leah clutched my shoulders, and we were seconds away from going too far. We both gasped when we separated.

“And I’m in love with you because it did come out like that.” At the intersection of both of our passions.

We headed back to the bike. “Will you please consider my offer? It’s usually the other way around, people coming to me for a job, you know. I don’t have to ask twice.”

She rubbed her ass after I slapped it, glaring at me playfully. I knew all along she’d break me down. “Maybe.”

There was only so long I could say no to her.

L
eah

There wasn’t enough time. I blinked and I only had one day left with Jagger. In twenty-four hours, I’d be at the airport, waiting to get on my plane. To go home without him.

I loved Miami. I didn’t think it would make any difference whether I came to Jagger or he came to me, but it really did. All the things I had to worry about at home didn’t exist here. And it was magical. It was the first time I’d been able to truly relax and enjoy spending time with him. If I wasn’t careful, I could get lost in this sex-soaked playground and forget everything else.

We’d spent the rest of the afternoon on the bike, and I loved that he didn’t bring me to a bunch of tourist sites. Instead, he showed me all his favorite Miami Modern style buildings because he knew how much I loved that type of architecture. The curved and triangular shapes, the clean white buildings accented with turquoise and coral. Paradise. Jagger had lived in Miami for almost fifteen years, and he’d made it his home.

I couldn’t take him away from it.

“This used to be the biggest dive bar in the history of dive bars.” He laughed. “It’s a bed and breakfast now, but they used to have dollar drafts, which is like holy water to a poor college student. Even after I started working, I came here for years. It was a place to have a drink, watch the game, and not give a shit about anything. One night, my buddy Zach decided he was a pool shark. He’s so not. I had to save him from getting his ass kicked by a bunch of angry bikers who could actually play pool.”

And then this. Little by little, Jagger was opening up, letting me see how he really lived. I knew escorting had been such a huge part of his life—it had to be since he traveled and spent as much time with his clients as they requested—but this was what I wanted, the man who drank cheap beer and enjoyed the game. “Did you ever go back?”

The grin hadn’t faded, and he looked back at the building, shaking his head. “No, I had to save Zach’s ass on a regular basis. We never found another bar like this. Too bad it’s gone. It was one of a kind.”

“Can I meet Zach?”

Jagger’s face fell. “He’s an escort, Leah.”

“So what?” I’d picked Jagger out of a sea of shirtless bodies on his agency’s website. I wondered if I’d even considered Zach. And how different things would be if I’d picked him over Jagger. “He’s your friend and I want to meet him.”

“Okay, I’ll give him a call.” Jagger let out a sigh.

I grabbed his arm before we got back on the bike. “You don’t want me to meet him.”

“It’s not that. Zach’s an asshole.” Jagger tried to laugh, but he wasn’t fooling me. He raked his hand through his hair. “I have no idea what he’s going to say to you. He’s pissed I quit escorting.”

Oh. It stung, no matter what direction it came from. And I didn’t expect Jagger’s camp to have anything in common with mine. “My daughter and my best friend have given me every reason why I shouldn’t be with you, too. It hurts when the people who are closest to you are waiting for you to fail, doesn’t it?”

In a perfect world, I would’ve waited to put my helmet back on before the tears fell. And I’d have no reason to cry. Jagger pressed me against his chest, rocking me slightly. “We’ll prove them wrong.”

“I hate that someone has to be right or wrong.” I wiped my tears away, letting the anger replace them. “If they love us they should support us, no matter what we do. Unless we become serial killers, of course.”

Jagger pressed his lips to my forehead. We stayed like that on the busy sidewalk so long I thought time stopped. He tipped my chin up to meet his gaze. We’d already proven them wrong. No matter how this ended or when, right now, we were meant to be together. “I’ve never been into blood and guts,” he said.

“Like I said, I make things pretty. You can’t get that stuff out of the upholstery.” I handed Jagger his helmet.

I insisted he take me to the supermarket. This was extreme adventures in food shopping—I searched my phone for the snapper recipe that had the fewest ingredients. It would’ve been much easier to go out, but I wanted him all to myself. His attention solely on me, the way it was when he captured me through the lens of his camera. I wasn’t being selfish, I planned on giving it as good as I got it.

Jagger called Zach, and he agreed to meet us for a drink before we headed to the airport. We didn’t have a lot of times to choose from, but I hoped I wouldn’t be leaving Miami with a sour taste in my mouth.

“What do you eat?” I’d put Jagger to work cutting the zucchini, squash, and onions. I made the herb butter. He had this beautiful, open kitchen that some of my clients would sacrifice their firstborn for and his refrigerator had nothing but protein powder and a carton of eggs in it.