Get Off on the Pain (10 page)

“Fine. Whatever you say. No more pictures then.” She pushes the pile of photographs aside and jumps to her feet. “I hate the way I looked back then. Seriously. If you were a better friend you would have told me how horrid I looked. I mean, look at my eyebrows. It looked like I had two caterpillars stuck to my forehead. Not hot at all.”

She follows me to the door and stops behind me, peeking over my shoulder. “You waiting on our sexy neighbor or something? Jeez, you’ve looked out that door like twenty times over the last few hours. Take a break and hang with the most awesome chick you know. That’s me by the way, just incase you were wondering.”

I laugh. “What if I am waiting on Memphis?” I hold my wine glass against my lips and lean against the doorframe, trying to hide my grin. “Call me fucking crazy, but I like a bit of a challenge once in a while. You know?”

She nods and grabs my glass away, waiting for me to say more. I roll my eyes before sighing and continuing. “I’m so damn tired of just having to look in a man’s direction and his pants drop to his ankles. It’s like every man out there will practically sleep with any woman that walks in his path. Memphis . . . he seems different. It’s like he’s afraid to touch me. There’s something buried deep inside him that has me wanting to know more. Is that weird?”

Bailey downs the rest of my wine, shaking her head like a lunatic. “No.” She wipes her chin off. “Not weird at all. He’s gorgeous and mysterious. I mean who wouldn’t want to get inside that man’s head, or to get that man’s head inside them? You know what I’m saying?” She winks at me and tries wiggling her eyebrows at the same time: epic fail.

“You dirty bitch.” I flick her lip ring and she yelps. “I don’t think you’ve been cleaning that mouth of yours enough.”

“What? Don’t act innocent.” She shrugs her shoulders. “You and I both know you have thought about how big that man’s dick is.” She runs her tongue over her lips before pretending to give a blowjob with her hand. “Or how it tastes?”

We both look out toward the road when we hear the sound of Memphis’ bike. All laughter stops and everything around us ceased to exist. Suddenly—we’re just standing by in silence, watching him as if he were about to give us a damn strip show while covered in chocolate. Did I mention I love chocolate . . . a lot?

“Well damn,” Bailey whispers as he disappears into his garage and closes the door behind him. “Now is your chance.”

She shakes her body as if she’s got a chill. “Mmm . . . sign me up for that. Holy hell does that man look sexy on a motorcycle. Landen would kill me if he knew the thoughts this man could put in my head. You definitely need to sample that. I can live through you.”

I snatch my wine glass from her and walk over to pour another glass that I’m definitely in need of. “Maybe I already have,” I say teasingly and lick my lips. “Mmm . . . and maybe he was fucking delicious.”

Bailey opens her mouth in surprise. “Who’s the dirty bitch now? You damn tease. You better not be holding out on me.”

I take a few sips of my wine while looking over at the wall that’s facing Memphis’ house.
Should I bring him his jacket? I have been drinking for the last what . . . three hours. Holy shit, that’s a lot of wine.

I set my wine glass down and smile at Bailey as I walk past her. “I’ll be back.” I can handle him; even after one, two . . . seven glasses of wine.

“Wait! You can’t leave me yet. Landen won’t be here for another hour, you hooker.” She gives me a puppy-dog face that I just roll my eyes at. It’s a good thing I’m not a softie or I’d possibly cave in, stay here, and down wine until I can’t breathe. “Where are you going?”

“Next door.”

“Why? For what? Oooohhh . . . Maybe I should go too.”

Once I get to my room, I turn behind me to face her. “I’m taking his jacket back to him. That’s all.” I reach for his jacket and drape it over my shoulder while walking past her. “And I don’t think it’s a good idea that you come. He’s not really a people person, so no. Stay here and wash your mouth out, you lush.”

“You suck!” She yells after me as I leave her behind.

“Tell me something I don’t know. At least I’m good at it,” I brag shamelessly.

Just as I’m about to cut through the grass to walk to the side of his garage, Bailey runs up behind me and shoves my camera in my chest. “Take some more sexy pictures. I want more. You’ve been drinking so he won’t suspect a thing. You’re golden.” She hiccups.

I let out an amused laugh and attempt to hand my camera back to her but she starts backing away while sucking on her lip ring. I think maybe she’s had a bit too much to drink. “I’m not going in there and asking him to do a damn photo shoot, Bailey. I’m just giving him back his jacket. I’ll be out in like two minutes. Here, I don’t need this you twat.” I hold out my camera again.

She shakes her head and turns around, walking crooked back toward the front of the house. “I’m not letting you back inside unless you have at least one new photo of that sex god. So ha!” She hiccups a few more times and holds up her finger. “One picture at least.”

I stand here with a scowl as I watch her disappear, surprised that her crazy ass didn’t fall face first in the grass. I would have paid to see that, and that probably makes me a bad friend.

Not even five seconds later the door to our house slams shut and I see her grin at me through the window while tilting back the bottle of wine.

“Damn whore,” I mumble.

The last thing I want is for him to think I’m here to sneak some more pictures of him, so I throw my camera around my neck and spin it around so that it’s hanging off my back. I’m seriously going to kill Bailey when I get home.

The side door is unlocked, so I open it and let myself in, passing through the dimly lit garage, but stop to glance at the beautiful car I admired the other day. I really need to remember to ask him the story behind that car someday.

When I get to the door leading into the house, I stop and knock a few times but he doesn’t answer, so I try a few for more times. Maybe he’s just downstairs and can’t hear me. I turn the knob and see that it is also unlocked, so I open it and let myself inside.

It’s not like he didn’t ask me to come over, so I’m sure he won’t be too pissed about me barging in.

I poke my head into a few rooms on the main floor, only to find them all empty before making my way to the basement door where I stop.

He asked me to stay upstairs last time I was here, but you know what . . . I don’t play by the rules and I’m tired of doing so for him. If he wants his jacket then he can deal with me.

Screw it . . .

I walk down the steps and call his name but he still doesn’t answer. I notice a light shining through the bottom of what I believe is the downstairs bathroom, so I throw his jacket on the queen-sized bed and look around me.

It’s like a mix between a bedroom and a gym. Everything about this room tells me that Memphis is a fighter . . . or was. In the back corner there is a heavy bag, a speed bag, two long, heavy ropes, and some kind of bar hanging from the ceiling that must be for pull-ups. There is more random equipment sitting around, but I really have no idea what they are used for.

You can tell he was heavy into training and staying fit: sexy and dangerous. Hand in hand they make a lethal weapon, and also one reason I should want to stay away.

I look down at the jacket on his bed one more time before turning around to head back upstairs.

The sight in front of me takes the breath straight from my lungs and for some reason refuses to give it back.
Damn you wine. Damn you.

Memphis is standing there, dripping wet, with a small towel wrapped around his waist. One hand is shaking out his hair and the other is holding his towel together.

Please let go. Please let go . . .

I try my best to turn away, I swear, but I have to face it—it’s pointless at this point. My eyes slowly trail down his body, taking their time on each and every body part.
Think he’d notice if I grabbed my camera? Holy hell . . .

Every single muscle in that firm chest is dying to be licked by me. Oh fuck me. Those defined muscles leading down to his . . . I swallow. Oh my . . . that looks like a nice package.

Where’s the wine?

My mouth feels dry. I quickly bring my eyes up to his face right as he pulls the towel away to adjust it. I catch a quick glimpse, but hold my breath and try to pretend that I missed it, although, that is definitely hard to miss.

“I . . . uh . . .” I point down at his bed. “Was just dropping off your jacket like you asked. You didn’t answer the door so I . . . never mind. I’m sorry. I’m leaving. I should have just left it upstairs.”

I turn to walk away, but his voice stops me. “I heard you knocking, Lyric. I expected you’d come down here. I know you more than you think.” He steps up behind me and touches my camera. “I was hoping you’d bring this.” He grabs the strap and pulls it over my shoulder toward the front of my body, letting it rest against my front, then turns me around to face him.

His icy blue eyes stare at me with an intensity that makes my heart skip a beat. “Why,” I ask softly, still trying to keep my eyes from wandering.

“Because I like it.” He runs his finger from the camera up the center of my body, between my breasts, and looks into my eyes. “And fuck me, but I love you using it on me.” He walks over to his dresser and pulls out a pair of jeans before dropping his towel and slipping them on.

Ugh, this man’s ass is never going to leave my mind now.

His dark jeans hang low on his waist, leaving little to the imagination. Not to mention his body is still damp from the shower water, making his tattoos seem more visible. Bailey was right. I do love a man with tattoos and this man is no exception.

“You want me to photograph you?” I watch as he walks to the chair pressed against the wall, grabs next to it for his guitar, and takes a seat on the edge of his bed.

“Yeah.”

“Why? You don’t even like talking or having anyone around. Why would you want me to photograph you?” He looks so beautiful with his guitar that I barely manage to get the words out. He seriously needs to put that thing away before I lose it.

He looks up from messing with the strings of his guitar. “Because this is easier than talking for me; always has been.” He picks one leg up and rests his heel on the frame of his bed to prop up his guitar, then sticks the pick in his mouth and strums a few chords before pulling it out and looking back up at me. “You’ve already captured one of my passions.” He licks his bottom lip before biting it. “You might as well capture them all, Lyric. I just hope you can handle them.”

My body heats up from his words and it takes everything in me not to turn around and leave. As much as I want him to let me in—him allowing this—somehow makes me so nervous that I almost forget how to use my camera . . . but only for a second. I mean, I usually don’t let a man get to me this way, but Memphis . . . he makes it hard to think straight just from being in the same room as him.

I clear my throat as I run my fingers over my camera. “I didn’t come here to get more pictures if that’s what you think. I just wanted to drop off your jacket.”

“And you did, so now you can stay.” He looks back down at his guitar and starts playing a tune I’m familiar with, but I’m too buzzed to recall the name. All I know is that it has me wanting to do very dirty things to him.

I start snapping pictures of him playing his guitar, capturing the beauty of his passion while trying to keep my cool. The way his muscles flex with each movement and the sight of his jaw tightening as the tune picks up speed is so damn sexy that I can’t take it anymore. I need to change this up and fast. I’m starting to sweat.

“Put the guitar down,” I say firmly. “If I’m shooting you then I’m making it a full session and we’re doing it my way. You might as well experience my passion the right way, and that guitar is blocking too much of your body. Put it down,” I repeat.

Well shit . . . that didn’t come out right. I blame the wine.

He looks up from playing his guitar and continues to flex his jaw. Without saying a word he sets his guitar down on the bed and stands. His chest muscles tighten at the exact moment he heatedly looks me up and down. “Alright,” he says with a smirk. He reaches for the button of his jeans and starts to undo them.

“Whoa! What are you doing?”

He pulls his jeans down till they’re just above the top of his shaft. He looks up to meet my eyes. “I’m doing what you’re too afraid to ask for. I saw the look in your eyes when I offered to get naked for you, Lyric.” He licks the cut on his lip. “So I’m giving you what you want. I’m not too fucking shy to tell it how it is, and I’m definitely not too shy to show my body, so tell me what the hell you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

My heart starts beating so fast that I wouldn’t be surprised if he could hear it from where he stands. This was definitely not what I was expecting; not from him, but I can’t help but to want it so damn bad.

“Alright. Crouch down and put both hands on the sides of your head and look down.” I watch him as he listens. I can’t deny how much I love the power that I feel over him right now. It’s extremely hot and I have a feeling this will be the only chance I get to feel it. “Okay, now look up slightly and flex your jaw.”

Without a word, he does as he’s told. “Perfect,” I whisper. I mean it. He’s perfect. “Now look down and flex your arms.” He looks into my eyes for a breathtaking second before doing so. “Yeah. Good,” I say breathless.

I take a few shots of him in that position before asking him to stand against the back wall and stick his hand under the front waistband of his jeans. I couldn’t resist, and hot damn this is my favorite picture of all time. The best part is—he’s a natural and didn’t hesitate one bit. This is by far my best photo shoot and it’s only just begun.

His eyes are smoldering, as if he wants to rip my clothes off, and I can’t keep my eyes off of his muscles flexing as he adjusts his junk. I bite my lip subconsciously and suck in a small breath.

“You like that?” He looks into my eyes and starts rubbing his hand over his cock as it starts to harden inside his jeans. “If you want me to touch myself . . .” He looks at my bottom lip as it trembles. “Then just say so. I told you I’d do anything you asked.”