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Or was that considered porn?

Either way, it was a terrible idea. If I captured his penis in all its glory, then other women would see how magical it was, plus the man attached to the art-like penis, and come to Anchor Bay in droves.

“I’m not perfect,” Aiden said after a minute of me gazing longingly at his dick.

“Hmm,” I finally responded, forcing my gaze up to his face, only to pause. There were none of the laugh lines that always marked his smiling face, no twinkle in his eyes that told me something mischievous was playing out in his mind. All lingering thoughts of how to get him over into my sleeping bag to use his perfect cock evaporated. “Aiden?”

“You said I was hot—which, thank you—but I’m not perfect. Far from it, actually.” His brows dipped, and that far-off look overtook his stare. “Someone perfect wouldn’t have made all the mistakes I made or almost gotten his best friend killed because of them.”

I sucked in a sharp breath that whistled between my teeth. “Tell me what happened.” He rolled his head to face me. “None of us are perfect, Aiden. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know you didn’t,” he whispered. “Sorry, I’m being so fucking dramatic, distracting you from my dick. Fuck,” he groaned. “I cockblocked myself.”

A giggle escaped, and I rolled over, laying a cheek on my tucked hands. “We have time for me to stare at your dick and continue to dream about my penis art photography business.”

His brows flew up over his forehead. “Penis. Art.”

“It’s a new trend.” I bit my lower lip to keep the smile from growing wider.

“Fairly certain porn has been around for a while, plus I’m not sure I like this idea of penis pornography. I’ll end up in jail for murdering the unlucky models you hire.”

I rolled my eyes. “Just your penis because it’s pretty.” His mouth opened and closed a few times. “Want to talk about it?”

“My cock? Always.” His smile was just as forced as the lightness in his tone.

“Aiden,” I rasped.

“Aspen,” he said, copying my exasperated tone.

“You want me to stay?”

“Of course,” he said in a rush.

“Then give me more of you.” His brows waggled as he flicked his gaze down at his dick. “You know what I mean. Show me this is real by telling me something real.”

“Pretty sure my dick is real.” He grinned. Slipping a hand free, I shoved at his bare shoulder. “Fine. But quid pro quo, sweetheart.”

“Agreed.” I held out my hand, which he slipped into his. Instead of shaking it, he drew it close to his lips and planted a soft kiss on my knuckles. “What do you want to know about me?”

He studied me, gaze scanning my face for a few seconds. “When we first met, you mentioned that your mom said photography was a waste of time.”

“You remember that?” I whispered in sheer awe. “Why?”

“I remember all the things about the important people in my life.”

“But I’m not, or I wasn’t then. I was just a stranger.” And now I was just a…

Fuck, I could not go there right now.

“I had a hunch of what was to come. The way you talked about your mom made me think things weren’t that great between you two. Tell me.”

“Wow, going deep here, Dr. Phil.” I rolled onto my back and stared at the top of the tent. “She’s old-school, I guess you could say. I loved playing outdoors and helping my dad on the ranch, but she thought I should be inside, learning to cook and clean and be a proper wife one day. I’ve never seen my dad make a single meal for himself, and I’m pretty sure he thinks the fact that his clothes reappear in his closet daily is magic and not my mom’s doing. When I showed interest in photography, she dismissed it, said it wasn’t necessary or even a viable career until I got married, and then it could be a hobby while the kids were in school.”

“Until you got married and had the 2.5 kids,” Aiden mused. “So, she had grand aspirations for your life.”

“A husband and three kids,” I corrected as her disappointed voice rang in my ears as if she were right beside me. “Never achieving my own dreams or wants. Those were her aspirations. When I pushed back, which was often, she would tell me I’d never make it. That it wasn’t right for me to want more than a family and a husband telling me what to do.”

“Aspen.” His hand breached the small gap between our two sleeping bags and grasped mine, interlacing our fingers in a tight hold.