Hooked Ever After

Typical Cat

I lifted the camera and brought it to my eye, the viewfinder framing the most perfect ass I'd ever seen. Cat was dressed in a lacy red thong and matching bra, and was leaning over the edge of the sink to apply her makeup. Her lips were parted in a way that begged to be kissed, but it was the delicate curve of her lower back and the perfect swell of her ass that held my attention this time.

With the rich rays of the late afternoon sun cutting through the window and pouring over her skin like liquid gold, she looked otherworldly.

Her hand moved slowly as it traced a dark line over the arch of her eye. I took a few deep breaths, turning the focus ring until the image was just right. When she continued to stay still, I pressed the button and the familiar click of the shutter broke the silence.

"Took you long enough," she said, dropping her hand and looking away from her reflection to find me in the mirror. Her mouth curved into a playful smile and she winked. "I knew you were there."

"For my private collection." I nodded to the camera where it was cradled in my hand. It seemed like that's where it always was these days, a permanent extension of my body. Sometimes it still surprised me that I'd found success in doing something that I was not only good at, but that I loved too. A year ago, I never would have dreamed of giving up my career in my father's company to do photography full time. It took finding Cat to find myself. Now, photos were my living . . . except for the ones of Cat. Those were just for me.

Her eyebrow lifted, but the smile remained. "I don't know why you insist on taking so many pictures of me. You can have the real thing any time you want." She gave her ass a little shake and I didn't even try to hide the fact that I was checking her out from the bottom up.

Christ. It didn't matter what she was doing, she was always breathtaking. Like right now. She was looking over her shoulder at me, and the sunshine spilled across her face and shoulders so that she looked like she was covered in a honey-colored glow. I lifted the camera again and took another shot, capturing the way the light turned her eyes into shiny sapphires and her hair into a silky sheet of fire.

Lowering the camera, I leaned against the wall next to the doorway. "Sometimes the real thing is too much to handle," I teased.

"Tell me about it," she said before turning back to the mirror to finish getting ready. "I'm almost done. I just need to put on my dress."

"Don't hurry on my account." I pushed off the wall and walked up behind her, setting the camera on the counter. I gripped her waist and pulled her hips back against mine. I ran my hands over her bare skin, forcing goose bumps to raise wherever I touched.

"Behave." She scowled at me in the mirror. "This is your big opening night. You've worked hard for it. Don't do anything that will make us late," she warned. "Brodi will never let me hear the end of it."

Brodi was a friend of Cat's. When her mother passed away last spring and Cat inherited the Durand Art Gallery, she asked Brodi to run it. When he saw the photos I'd taken of Venice Beach, he loved them so much that he asked me to do an exhibit. It was such a success that he scheduled another one for September. This one was called "The Face of Venice" and it was a collection of shots I did of the people of Venice Beach. We were hoping for a big turn out. Brodi had even talked to a local publisher who was interested in featuring my work in a coffee table book. I needed to be there to charm him into making that a reality.

But first . . . Cat.

I leaned over and pressed a kiss to the center of her back. "Don't worry about Brodi. This is more important." I reached up and pushed the long, smooth strands of her dark red hair over shoulder and then dropped kisses up her spine and across her shoulder. Her head fell to the side and her eyes closed.