I encouraged myself to embrace my guilt. Annie would be really disappointed if she knew I’d turned down the chance to picture Carly and Dean, so, with this thought in mind I knew what I had to do.
“Sounds great. I’ll see you there,” I told Mackenzie before hanging up.
Sean let out a slow breath. “You’re leaving, aren’t you?” he said as I turned in his arms to look up at him.
“I’m sorry, duty calls,” I answered regretfully. The obvious disappointment on his face had me blurting, “Do you want to come?”
His brow arched. “To photograph celebrities?”
I felt suddenly unsure, probably because the idea of Sean Cassidy crossing over into my everyday life felt way too relationship-y. “Uh, yeah.”
He shrugged. “Okay, well, just let me grab a quick shower first.”
He went into the bathroom and I put on my dress. My hair was a mess so I threw it up into a haphazard bun. Unfortunately, my camera was back at Annie’s apartment, where I’d been living for the last few months, and we wouldn’t have time to go there and get it. The one on my iPhone would just have to do.
About five minutes later, Sean emerged completely naked, droplets of water coating his fine, fine skin. I swallowed, feeling suddenly shy, and busied myself with checking my Twitter notifications. Meanwhile, he seemed oblivious to my ogling, which was so entirely frustrating. When I looked up again he was dressed.
“You ready?” he asked. I nodded and before I knew it we were outside the hotel, flagging down a yellow taxi.
“East 58th Street, please,” I told the driver as I pulled up the restaurant’s address on Google.
Sean sat next to me, his legs spaced in what was the quintessential definition of man-spreading. Though being as large as he was, I imagined he couldn’t really help it. He stared out the window, watching the city go by (albeit slowly since it was rush hour in Manhattan). My eyes traced the strong, masculine line of his jaw and how his dark blond hair was sexily tousled on top but shaved tight at the back.
I noticed his mouth start to curve in a smile before his eyes flicked down and to the side.
“Enjoying the view?” he asked, his voice quiet, intimate, and edged with a deeper question.
“You must know how beautiful you are,” I murmured.
His lips firmed and it took a second for him to reply. When he did he cast his hooded gaze on me, taking my hand and smoothing his fingers over my knuckles. “I’m too big and imposing to be beautiful.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“Is it?” His eyes searched mine. “Most beautiful things are delicate, so fragile that even to look at them feels like they might break.” He whispered this last part and I found myself catching my breath. It felt like he was trying to tell me something; that I was the delicate, fragile thing he described. My heart beat fast like the wings of a butterfly.
“That’s not true. Beauty comes in many forms, and the strong, powerful kind is the most admirable. It’s easy to be weak; you simply do nothing, but strength takes courage and effort.”
His eyes blazed as he lifted my hand, bringing it to his mouth and pressing his lips to the inside of my wrist. I shivered. “You have this incredible way of showing me new ways to look at things, do you know that, Lucy Fitzpatrick?” he asked, and my tummy flipped over on itself.
“You shouldn’t say things like that,” I blurted.
“Why not?”
“Because they mix me up.”
His attention dropped to my lips. “Would that be so bad?”
“Yes.” I nodded once, very emphatically, and paired it with a strained laugh, speaking louder than was strictly necessary. “It would be the worst.”
He narrowed his eyes as though to protest, but I scrunched up my face at him, forcing playfulness. Pulling my hand out of his, I pointed a teasing finger of accusation in his face. I needed to break the tension.
“And you know why it would be the worst. So keep your compliments and hands to yourself while I’m trying to work.”
Because I’m weak when you’re kind to me, and I need to be strong. These were the words I left unsaid.
He didn’t respond. Instead, he just stared at me like he wanted to argue.
The taxi pulled to a stop and I dragged my attention away from Sean to see we’d arrived just down the street from Le Cirque. I made myself focus on work, in truth happy to have an excuse to change the subject, and craned my neck. I soon spotted a gaggle of photographers already gathered outside. They were hanging back, chatting amongst themselves, so I knew the happy couple weren’t there yet.