Page 24 of Finding Mr. July

“I’ll set up while we wait. He could be caught in traffic,” Jonathan says.

I sit down on the low stone wall separating the chapel grounds from the grassy slopes. The setting sun is still warm enough on my skin that I turn my face to it, letting it paint golden swirls on the inside of my eyelids. Soon enough, the rains will come.

When ten minutes have passed, I text Mikael to make sure he’s not at one of the other sections of the park. Let me know your ETA. See you in a bit. I put the phone away and turn back to the sun. Of all the places to be kept waiting, this isn’t the worst.

Click!

My eyes fly open, and there’s Jonathan, the camera to his face. “Sorry, you looked so peaceful.” Click, click.

I put a hand up to stop him. “Come on. I’m not…”

He lowers the camera. “Not what?”

My phone beeps in my pocket. Perfect timing. “One sec,” I say. Mikael has texted back, but I have to read the message several times to understand it.

Doesn’t feel so good to have a date not work out, does it?

“What’s going on?” Jonathan asks.

I hold up the phone, and he comes closer to read. “What the?”

“He never meant to show. It’s payback for me not putting out on Friday.”

Jonathan’s jaw drops. “Holy shit. This is what women have to deal with?”

I shrug. “It’s on the pettier side.” I tip my head back and close my eyes again. “Fuck,” I mutter. I’m right back to nine models, and now I’ve wasted Jonathan’s time, too.

Click.

“I told you to stop that,” I say, still not opening my eyes.

“Holly.” His voice is cajoling.

“No.”

“Can I please take your picture?”

“No.”

“But the light is perfect, and I’ve got everything set up.”

I finally look. He’s pointing to the chapel wall where a reflector stand and the tripod are waiting.

“You like the photos I’ve taken so far, right?” he asks. “You might be pleasantly surprised. If they don’t turn out, I’ll delete them.” He holds out a hand for me to take.

I hesitate. “I need to brush my hair.”

“You don’t.”

“And I’m still in my work clothes.”

“You can always take them off.”

His unexpected quip cuts through my resolve, and a small laugh finds its way up my throat.

“Ha! Made you smile.” He grins at me. “Now, come on. Don’t be scared. I am a professional, after all. Award-winning, even.”

“Fine.” I take his hand, and he hoists me off the stone wall. I expect him to let go once I’m on my feet, but he doesn’t. Instead, his fingers wrap around mine in a confident grip as he leads me to the chapel and the protected spot he’s found that’s aglow with the setting sun.

As I survey the space, Jonathan lifts his camera again. “You don’t have to look at me. Do whatever.”

Do whatever… Well, since my body wants to mimic a concrete block at the moment, I guess I’ll stay right where I am.

He starts snapping pictures, moving around me, and occasionally checking his screen. “A little to the left. Good.” Jonathan waves his fingers toward the wall. “Over there maybe?”

“So not whatever?”

He looks up. “What?”

“You said I could do whatever, but now you want me over there. Which is it?”

“Am I being bossy?” Click, click. “Turn your back to me.”

I do, looking over my shoulder. “A bit.”

He crouches low. “You don’t mind?”

To be honest, it’s a relief not to have to be in charge for once. “Not really. Like you said, you’re the expert here.”

He stands, considering me. “Would you lose the jacket? It’s too formal.”

I do without argument. I’m wearing a thin blue blouse underneath that I know flatters my coloring. The cooling air seeps through the fabric, making the hairs on my arms rise.

“Against the wall over there.” Jonathan points.

His words are innocent enough, but his undivided attention and commanding tone stir something deep inside me and expand the gooseflesh to my sides and down my legs.

I know I’m blushing as I lean my back to the white wood, and the tight peaks of my nipples are probably visible through the blouse, but I force myself to look straight at the lens this time.

Jonathan snaps a few shots, but then he lowers the camera.

His gaze roams up and down my body, his throat moving as he swallows hard.

“Eyes to the left,” he says in a low voice, taking two steps toward me.

Click, click, click. “Turn around. Face this way. Place your hands on the wall on either side of your head.”

My breathing grows shallower as I sense him closing in. His movements stir the air, little caresses against my barely protected skin. I rest my right temple to the chapel wall and hold still as the camera comes into view.

“Move your hand closer,” Jonathan says. When I try but get it wrong, he reaches out and nudges it toward my cheekbone. “There.” Then, as if he can’t help himself, he lets the back of his fingers trail along my jaw. “Good.”

My eyes fall closed at his praise.

“No, look at me.”

I expect to see the dark circle of the lens trained on me, but instead I’m met by his gray eyes. The low light dances within them, telling a story I’m not sure I’ve heard before. He presses the shutter once, though the camera remains below his chin.

“How am I doing compared to the other models?” I ask under my breath.

“Holding your own,” he says. “Except I never had the urge to kiss any of them.”

“But you do now?”

Click. “I thought that was apparent.”

I push off the wall and turn toward him, at the same time extending my left hand to block the lens. “Put that thing away.”

In one swift move, he’s hooked the camera over his shoulder so it’s hanging safely at his back and taken the one long stride necessary to grab hold of my waist. He leans in until we’re forehead to forehead.

“I really didn’t want to leave the other night,” he says.

“I need you to know that. And that stupid song. You’ll be happy to know I’ve switched the ringtone. ”

I lift my chin and steal a kiss. Only a peck, but how can I not?

“Bold,” he murmurs, approval in his voice.

“Maybe I can’t get everything I want, but I can still take what little I can get.”

His fingers flex against me. “Oh, I’m sure you can have more than that,” he says. Then he kisses me in earnest.

His lips are hungry and lush as he fits them against mine, first softly and then coaxing entry for a deeper savoring that steals my breath.

My hands fist in the material of his shirt, and he takes the hint, maneuvering us back a step so I’m once again up against the wall.

This is a far superior version of that pose, with his body pressed against mine, his hands roaming from my hair, my neck, my jaw, and down my arms, my sides, my hips.

I don’t immediately notice him untucking my blouse from my pants, but when his fingers make contact with the sensitive skin at my waist, painting trails of heat to the small of my back, I gasp, open-mouthed, against his lips.

“You like that,” he says, repeating the move.

I’m a tightly wound bow, ready to spring, yet I manage a nod.

He kisses me again, his thumbs digging under my waistband and tracing the ridge of my hip bones. I cling to him, the feel of his hair between my fingers exactly like I remember it from that first night, soft and infinitely tuggable. He groans when I do.

“I’m tired of being confused,” he breathes between nips and licks. “We’re both adults. Please tell me it wouldn’t be a bad idea. I want you so much.”

And quite frankly, it’s probably not only a bad idea but also a terrible one, but all I can do as he trails kisses down my throat is move one of his hands up to my breast and grind into him until we’re both panting.

He retreats a few inches and looks down at me. Then he glances over his shoulder to make sure we’re alone. His fingers go to the top button of my blouse.

“What are you doing?” I ask, my voice raspy with need as I watch him undo it.

“I just want a tiny bit more. A new flavor.” The pad of his thumb brushes over my covered nipple, but then he stills, waiting, watching me.

I make double sure no one can see us and nod quickly. “Yes.” I arch my back into his touch. “But hurry.”

He needs no urging. He makes swift business of another two buttons before he dives for the swell of my chest, inhaling deeply where black satin meets skin.

My head tips back against the wall when his mouth makes contact.

His lips lavish hot kisses along the lacy edge while his hands hold me steady.

A gentle nip of teeth followed by a soothing lick, and then he shifts his body so that one of his legs slides between mine.

In my current state, I’m not sure if it’s a fortuitous accident or intentional, but I take full advantage, grinding into him like we’re teenagers in the back seat of someone’s minivan.

I hold on to his head, clasping it to my chest as I shamelessly ride his thigh. Weeks of built-up tension unfurl low in my stomach, building the electrical current through my limbs until I’m certain I won’t be able to stay upright much longer. “Oh God,” I mumble. “I need…”

He pushes one cup of my bra down with a grunt, and a split second later, heat envelops my nipple as he sucks it into his mouth.

My orgasm hits like a lightning strike, linking every point of me in contact with him. It’s quick and intense, over before I really have time to grasp what’s happened. I don’t know who’s more surprised, Jonathan or me.

“Did you just…?” he asks with a devilish grin as he straightens.

I don’t know what’s gotten into me. We’re out in the open for Pete’s sake. And I never come that easily. My face flushes, and I adjust my clothes. He’s going to think I’m easy. Or desperate. Or both. “Sorry. I got… That was really, um…”

“No, hey.” He tilts my face up to his. “Why are you apologizing? It was fucking hot.”

Hot. Yes, that’s the word.

“You’re hot,” he continues. “And you taste so damn good.”

“But I don’t usually…” I nudge my head downward.

“Come?” he asks, the word sexier on his lips than it has a right to be.

“Not like that.”

“Hmm.” The sound comes from deep in his chest as he braces my face in his palms. His thumbs stroke along my jaw. “Maybe you do now.” He kisses me softly, an unhurried depression of our lips. “Want to get out of here?”

My whole body lights up again at what his question might imply. “Yes.”

He folds up the tripod on autopilot and tucks it into his pack. “Will you grab the reflector?”

I do, and a few minutes later, we’ve made sure nothing is left behind.

The trek back is a silent one between lengthening shadows, but as far as I’m concerned, I’m completely safe with Jonathan at my side, and that feels different than what happened mere minutes ago.

A tangled mess I can’t reason my way out of.

It seems he’s right there with me because, as we approach the parking lot, he suddenly says, “I meant what I said, by the way. I’m tired of overthinking this.

Of worrying about how complicated it might be.

” He pauses to retrieve his car keys from his pocket.

“But that’s me. If you feel differently, I’ll respect that. ”

“I don’t,” I say quickly, tuning out whatever alarms are blaring “danger” inside my head. I want this. Want him. Even if it is temporary.

He stops. A wave of something that looks like relief washes over him. “We could pick up food. Eat at my place?”

I’m about to let out another “yes,” but something he said triggers my mental calendar.

Food, dinnertime… It’s Tuesday. “Oh, damn it.” I grimace.

“You have no idea how much I want that, but I can’t tonight.

Jude has a date, so I told Ava I’d catch the end of her tournament in Kirkland and take her to dinner after. ”

Jonathan’s shoulder slump matches exactly how I feel. “Our families aren’t making this easy, are they?”

“Needy people.” I smile. “But I promised Ava burgers and milkshakes.” It’s also the best opportunity I’ll get to bring up the move, so I need to take it since Jude’s keeping his end of the bargain.

“Yeah. Can’t go back on that.”

I wrap my arms around his waist. “Another rain check,” I say into his chest. “The last one. I’m free this weekend.”

“Friday,” he confirms. “My place. Seven o’clock. Dads, nieces, and brothers not invited. Phones on mute.”

It’s a(nother) date.