“The bed we got rid of, is that the one in the picture?” I ask.
“No. This was taken in Jackson’s place before he moved in with me.” She flails her hands as she points toward the screen. “I’ve been looking at these for over an hour. The majority of them were taken at his place. I’m so damn angry. I think he must have had some kind of camera set up in his bedroom. But look...”
She sits and quickly scrolls. “See this one?”
“I’ve looked at porn with friends before, Sami, but for the record, this isn’t doing it for me.”
“Good. Don’t look at the woman.” She points to the window. “Look at the trim around the window. See the color. I’m certain I know where it is.”
“What does that mean?”
She grunts as she again scrolls. “Don’t look at me in this picture. Look at the color of the window casing.”
It’s fucking hard not to look at her. Damn, she’s stunning. Yet what gets my attention isn’t her perfect body; it’s her face. “Shit, Sami, you didn’t know this was being taken?”
“No.”
“Why aren’t you happy?”
She quickly stands. “Maybe because I just found my ex-fiancé’s treasure trove of self-made porn. No, I think it’s called revenge porn.”
“Only if he puts it out on the internet.”
“Well, it violates some law.”
“I think it does.” I rephrase my question, wanting an answer. “Why aren’t you happy in the picture?”
She shakes her head. “God, I was such a dunce.”
My blood pressure spikes. “Why aren’t you happy in that picture, Sami?” My hands ball into fists at my side. “Did that asshole force you?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “If I were to guess—because that’s what it will be since I don’t remember that exact instance—I would say that we argued and this was about to be make-up...” She shrugs not finishing her sentence. “He has this thing where he likes to watch.”
“Watch what?” My mind is a cyclone of thoughts.
Watch Sami with another guy.
Watch her with another woman.
Watch her with herself.
“Sami, watch what?”
She turns away. “No details, remember.”
I can’t stop myself as I reach for her shoulder and turn her until she’s facing me. My question comes out louder and gruffer than I intend. “Watchwhat?”
“Me touching myself.” She lifted her chin toward the computer. “Let me rephrase. He likes to watchwomenmasturbate. Like I said, I wasn’t even his star model.”
Fuck.
Holding onto Sami’s shoulders again, I gently run my hands up and down the soft satin sleeves. The robe she’s wearing is barely long enough to cover her round ass. And if I tug on the sash, I am sure I could get a real-life view of the tits on the screen. Instead, I stay in friend mode. “As long as you were okay with it...”
“I wasn’t okay with pictures.”
“Tell me where you saw that weird color trim.”
“It’s not weird. It actually looks nice. Wait...” Her eyes open wide as she pushes past me and picks up her phone on her bedside stand. “Shit, shit,” she mumbles, scrolling and looking down at her phone. “I deleted most of the pictures with him in them.” She stops and looks up at me. “Here. I must have kept it because his face isn’t in it.” She shoves the screen my direction.