Summer Wild ✔️

Chapter Eight

Aiden stared at the sleeping form of Charlotte. Her hair was spread around her like a golden crown. She slumbered, not realizing the misery he was in. He wanted nothing better than to reach out and savour her with a kiss but hesitated.

They had no future. And even if he gave in to his desire, the chemistry between them would explode into a summer romp and nothing more.

Looking around for something to distract him, his gaze halted on the camera. It rested lopsided on the night table. He picked it up. Only a professional photographer or an enthusiast could decode the heavy-duty black beauty with various knobs and buttons.

Soon, he browsed through the pictures she had taken yesterday. The angle of the images and the subject matter gave each moment a different perspective. It was as if he saw the world like Charlotte did—vibrant and nuanced. His favourite was of a hazy image of Kensington Palace through the intricate pattern of its iron-wrought gates.

Seized by an impulse, Aiden zoomed in on Charlotte, who was slowly seeping into him. He snapped a picture of her. The whirring of the camera stirred her awake. She let out a delicious moan that made his cock jerk. He pressed the button again, freezing the moment for eternity.

As her eyes fluttered open, she smiled at him. "Hey."

Aiden kept taking the pictures. They were raw and unaffected. "Hey you."

"What are you doing?" She lifted herself on an elbow as the sleep ebbed away from her eyes.

"Taking pictures of you," he replied.

Tucking a lock of hair behind her ear, she shot him a puzzling look. "But why?"

"And why not?" He lowered the camera and studied her face. She looked hale enough after the last night's eventful episode. "Somebody has to take a picture of the photographer. Think of it as behind the scene footage."

"Behind the scenes? I'm in my pyjamas and in bed." She laughed at the notion. "You're funny."

No one had ever called him funny. It was something Aiden as a cop, couldn't afford. Intimidation was a more appropriate adjective. Only his siblings and nephews saw his personal side concealed behind a hardened demeanour.

Charlotte tried to move but stilled when she realized how her legs had invaded his side of the bed. Blood flooded her face. "Sorry," she mumbled.

With care, Aiden put away the expensive camera in its rightful place. Turning to her, he said, "Don't be." He wanted to kiss her into oblivion until they were gasping for more. The thought made him swallow hard. "How do you feel?"

"Good. Your presence helped," she admitted quietly.

"What do you want to see today?" Aiden wasn't even sure if Charlotte would be in the mood to venture out. Her eyes were still a bit swollen.

"I bought tickets for the Millennium wheel a week ago for today. Um, you don't have to come if you don't want to." Her eyes fell to his lips and stayed there.

She was giving him a way out. He groaned silently. "What if I want to come?"

"Are you sure?" Her gaze climbed up and met his. "Don't feel obliged, as I had a bad night. You can do your own thing. I'm okay with it. Afterwards, I plan to visit St. Paul's Cathedral."

His admiration for her grew. Charlotte wasn't looking for sympathy. He searched those pale blue eyes. A shiver ran through him and pooled into his groin. He became hard. He watched as her face turned a rosy colour once more. She could feel every inch of him. Aiden waited as she looked at him unabashedly.