Total pages in book: 76
Estimated words: 73107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73107 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 366(@200wpm)___ 292(@250wpm)___ 244(@300wpm)
I follow him to a cabinet with a large surface area where he does his developing. I have little time to check out the supplies he’s laid out before he asks me to cut the light.
“Remember, it’s gonna be dark, except for the safe light. Just head in the general direction over here.”
It takes my pupils a minute to adjust. I put my hand out, reaching for the edge of the countertop. “So you do have a red room,” I tease, referring to the amber bulb that is safe to use when developing film.
“Suppose I do. The tying-you-up part doesn’t come until later,” he adds, and my mouth runs dry. Well, damn, I like that visual.
“Well, then hurry up and get to it.”
He chuckles, then talks to me as he’s developing. “I take the negatives, which will turn this photographic paper into positive images.”
He places the photos in a solution, then in a water bath, each step done with precision.
“Has this method been phased out now that we’re living in the digital age?”
“Maybe in some places, but in my opinion, it’s still the best way to develop film.”
He hangs the photos to dry on a thin wire hanging above us that I didn’t even realize was there. We’re both silent, breathing the same air as they slowly come to life. The eagles and scenery appear so vividly it feels like magic.
“Holy crap, that’s so cool.”
“I hear you. I still have that feeling whenever I develop film.”
I walk along the row of photos, noticing myself in a couple of them as they progress from dark to light. It’s hard to look at myself in photos, so I don’t bring attention to them. Besides, mine pale in comparison to the others.
“You really do have a gift.”
He turns his head and mutters, “Thanks.”
The trouble he has accepting compliments is endearing.
When I get to the end of the row, my breath catches. “God, this is my favorite.”
“Is it?” He seems surprised I have a preference. “What do you like about it?”
“The way you captured the eagle in flight as if the world is his for the taking.”
“It sort of is, right?” He sighs dreamily. “Just imagine.”
He keeps the light off, and we find our way back to our wine. When he sinks down on the couch, I do the same. I like this seated perspective of his passion laid out around the room in neat piles. The photos hanging to dry in the shadow of the amber light make it seem even more charming.
I clink my glass to his. “Thanks for letting me experience that.”
“You’re welcome.” A comfortable silence settles over us before he asks, “Have you decided when you’re leaving?”
I tense briefly. “Sunday morning. Figure I got to get back to my apartment and heaps of laundry. Though I’d like to stay longer.”
Jack keeps his lips in a neat, straight line, even as his jaw clenches. “We probably shouldn’t anymore. It’ll be harder to…you know…”
I stare at him.
“What?”
“You’re more sensitive than you’re willing to admit.”
“Now you just sound like Johnny and June.”
I hitch a shoulder. “They’ve got your number.”
He shakes his head. “And I’ve got theirs. Suppose it’s just the way it is with siblings.”
I nod. “Will you at least keep in touch?”
He studies me. “Don’t worry, if I ever plan to sell, you’ll be the first to know.”
My gut churns. “That’s not what I meant.”
“You mean…but why would we?”
“Gee, thanks, guess I’m only good for a fuck.”
“Damn, sorry. I’m not very good at the whole friend thing.”
I throw him a pointed look. “If that were the case, Frank would’ve disowned your grumpy ass a long time ago.”
“Dickhead.” He playfully shoves me, and I shove him back. Before I know it, we’re wrestling on the couch, and he easily flips me to my back and hovers over me.
His chest is heaving, and his hot breath washes over my throat, making me squirm beneath him from the sensation. I cup his jaw and lift upward, hesitantly brushing my lips against his. It’s a tease as I test the waters, unable to hold back in these close quarters.
His fingers tighten on my nape, and he drags my mouth to his, the earlier declaration seemingly thrown out the window. Pressing firmly, he moans, and the sound is filled with a longing that makes my chest ache. His lips part against mine, the tips of our tongues touch, and goose bumps line my skin.
When his tongue slicks across my bottom lip, I capture it and softly suck to his satisfying moans. His hand winds and tightens in my hair, his fingers reaching between us to unbutton my pants. So much for not getting physical anymore, but I’m not complaining.
He connects our mouths again, his tongue pushing past my lips, all needy and desperate, and I can’t touch him enough to satiate my pure want and need. My hands grope his neck and dig into his biceps, my hips rocking upward, trying to make firmer contact.