His leg bounced, jostling the juice and rattling his fork on the plate. It was all he could do to remain seated, so bad did he want to tear through the box right then and there. He took another bite of eggs, but he was no longer hungry. Instead, he felt like a kid on Christmas morning and couldn’t keep from sneaking peeks at the box as they continued eating.
She laughed. “Go ahead and look. I won’t be offended to be left finishing my meal alone.” Another smile took any possible sting out of the comment.
“I’m sorry…it’s just…well, it means a lot to me.” How to explain to her that it was more than just some photo equipment? It was like getting a part of himself back.
Mark jumped up from the table and reached the sofa in two long strides. He lifted the box and set it on the floor as he sat on the edge of the couch. His heart raced and he had to wipe his hands on his thighs. With a deep breath, he tugged the top off. Several of his cameras lay inside. He held one. It was the camera he used most and he blew some dust off the lens. The weight of it in his hands felt wonderful. So familiar. So natural. The strap hung loose and he put it around his neck, feeling it settle into the usual spot.
A surge of emotion swept through him, catching him off guard. His hands shook and he clutched the camera in a death grip. He heard Jessie get up and approach, but he couldn’t look beyond the camera in his hands. It was no more than a dark, watery shadow and his throat tightened. Blinking hard, he attempted to say thank you to her, but his voice failed him.
The couch creaked as she sat on the arm of it, and a second later, he felt her hand on his back. Without uttering a word, she rubbed slow circles, her hand warm even through his t-shirt. He pretended to work at some smudges with his thumb. After a few minutes, he lifted the camera from around his neck, set it on the table, and removed another. It was an older one he hadn’t used often, but below that, wrapped in dish towels, were some of his lenses. He smiled. With them and his favorite camera, he could begin to take on a few photo jobs. It would be tough, with so many photographers switching to digital, but it was a start.
He cleared his throat, and this time, he was able to speak. “Thanks, Jessie.” It was too soon to look at her yet. He didn’t trust his emotions that much. “This is…it’s fantastic.”
“You’re welcome.” She squeezed his shoulder.
There were two more towel-wrapped bundles in the box. The first was his long lens. Excitement surged through him, and he grinned. Now he was truly in business. He had all the basics. As he picked up the last bundle, Jessie’s hand tightened on his shoulder. Not a lot, but he felt her tension.
It was the camera. He knew it. Even wrapped in the cloth, the thrum of energy seeped into his hands. His brain screamed at him to drop it, but even as that command shot into his mind, his hands tore the towel off, as if seeking to get closer to the energy. “Damn it, Jessie!”
“Mark-”
Anger and fear gave his voice a hard edge as he cut her off. “I said I didn’t want this one. Why the hell did you bring it?”
Revulsion battled with an overwhelming attraction and he couldn’t let the camera go. Or wouldn’t let go. He wasn’t sure which. His fingers betrayed him and skimmed over the surface, tracing edges and flicking a speck of dirt off the steel rim around the lens.
“What was I supposed to do with it?”
“Get rid of it. Trash it. I don’t care.” He shrugged her hand off and stood, giving the camera a shake. “What am I supposed to do with it?”
Jessie crossed her arms. “I don’t care, Mark. You can toss it in the garbage for all I care.” She straightened, standing in front of him, her eyes boring into his. “I don’t think I have the right to decide its fate.”
“And you think I do?” He laughed, short and harsh. “You want to know about rights? I’ll tell ya about rights. If I use this damn thing again, I can kiss all my rights goodbye. Again.”
“You don’t know that.”
“It doesn’t matter. I can’t take that chance.”
She looked from the camera to him and shrugged. “I can’t tell you what to do with it. It’s just that the second you touched that thing, you’re whole body gave off a…a jolt of energy or something.” She held his gaze. “It didn’t do that for me.”
Mark broke eye contact, hating that he thrilled at the rush of electricity shooting up his arm. “I feel it, but…” His body hummed, just like it had the first time he’d touched the camera. Eventually, he’d become used to the energy or had learned to control it. Overwhelmed and unsure, he sank onto the couch, and even as he cursed the camera, he cradled it against his stomach. “If I use this again, they could lock me up-just like before.”
It surprised him to see tears on her face as she nodded. “Maybe. But maybe not.”
“I can’t risk it.” He finally pried it out of his hand and set it in the box. “Do you know what it’s like to lose every single right you ever had?”
She shook her head and sat beside him, her hand returning to his back. It felt good.
“Forget about liberty and the pursuit of happiness. That was history. Even the right to life was on pretty shaky ground.” Mark gave a bitter laugh, then scrubbed his hands down his face, letting his arms drape across his knees.
Her arm reached towards his opposite shoulder, and she pulled him close in a quick sideways hug, her head resting on his shoulder.
He turned his face, catching the scent of her hair. Clean and fresh, the sun lit the strands. Her eyes were closed, the dark lashes contrasting with her hair. When she opened them, she looked straight into his eyes, not moving her head.
Shifting, he twisted, one arm going behind her, resting on her waist. He brought his other hand up to stroke her face, looping her hair behind her ear. Her skin felt soft and warm, and he never wanted to stop touching it.
Her tongue darted out, wetting her lips, and when she dropped her gaze to his mouth, he was lost. He moved his hand up to cradle her head, tangling his fingers in her hair. He lowered his mouth to hers, tasting. So sweet.
Jessie returned the kiss, and he felt the heat of her hand on his jaw and groaned, pulling her closer. She drove him crazy as she slipped her hand under the back of his shirt. She reclined, pulling him along with her, their mouths losing contact, but he found new territory on her neck as he balanced one foot on the floor and his other leg straddled her, his knee buried behind the sofa cushions.
She arched her back, exposing her throat, and he followed the line of her collar, kissing a path down. She moved her hand from his back to his hair, sending delicious shivers coursing through him. He needed to touch more of her. Needed her skin against his. He skimmed his fingers down her throat, just under the edge of her blouse. Her clothing barred his way, and he touched the front of her shirt, fingers poised on the first button.
Her breath, ragged and fast, matched his own, and he stopped before undoing the button, searching her face for permission. She nodded and reached to pull him down, tugging his shirt over his head.
He had to pause to regain control when her hands traced his chest. Nothing had ever felt so good. Leaning forward, he caught her lips again, then moved his mouth up, trailing kisses over her cheek, to her forehead and hair, drinking in the taste and scent of her. She smelled of sunshine and oranges. She found a sensitive spot just below his ear and he shivered as her warm breath blew over the dampness left from her tongue.
Mark swallowed hard, and pulled away, before returning to nuzzle her neck, his hand working at the buttons on her shirt. Her bra had front closure and he smiled against her skin at his good fortune as he unsnapped it. She shuddered when he moved the cups out of the way.
He gave a growl of frustration when the back of the sofa got in the way of his attempt to remove her shirt completely. With a smile, she pushed him up, then stood and pulled her blouse off. With smile and a raised eyebrow, she reached for the quilt draped over the back of the sofa, and spread it over the carpet, and lay down on it.