Her scream of surprise just made his day.
“Damn, girl.” Apollo glanced around the room, mostly in shock at how…regal the room was. It was not exactly what he would have imagined Thorne liking or having.
The carpet was plush and thick, black in color, the kind that was soft and made you want to roll around on it and treat it like a bed. The walls were painted antique in color, almost an off white, which off-set the crimson of the comforter, sheets and velvet curtains. The furniture was dark cherry and sturdy.
Her bed said it all though. It was a California King, four poster, Redwood bed with not your usual posts, but actual carved columns at each end, the track up top was shaped like ornate ivy with black tulle wrapped around the wood. Inside the material was a string of crimson and white twinkle lights that set off the barrage of stars on the ceiling.
He never expected to see Thorne laying in such plush comfort. He was almost afraid when he came crashing down on the mattress that she wouldn’t budge.
She did.
“What the hell?” Thorne gasped and yelled in one breath, sheets clutched to her chest, topaz eyes opened wide in shock.
Apollo burst out laughing, placing his hands behind his head as he rolled onto his back. “Damn, woman. You’ve been holding out. I may never move from this bed.”
“The fuck you say.” Thorne snarled. She grabbed a pillow and swung.
He tried to move, but apparently was not fast enough.
He had pillow for breakfast.
He yanked the pillow away from her, sat up and swung right back in one swift movement, landing a solid smack right upside her head. “Get up and go get a shower.”
A surprised yelp was followed by Thorne grabbing another pillow. She swung, and hit Apollo in the shoulder this time. “Don’t tell me what to do.”
“Daylight’s a wasting, chicka. So, per favore, go get wet for me.” He flashed those pearly whites at Thorne, followed by a waggle of the brows as he tried to shoo her off the bed.
“I don’t get wet on command.”
“Yeah, okay.” Apollo snorted, his voice openly sarcastic. “You may want to rethink that statement.”
“I figured your little jaunt home last night might have given you a change of heart, Dalton. The answer is still no.”
Apollo sighed and tossed the pillow to the head of the bed. He scooted to the edge of the mattress, pushed off the bed, and turned to face her. “This is non-negotiable. You’re going to march that sexy ass of yours into the bathroom and shower. Then you are going to put on the sexiest bikini you own, do your hair and make-up or whatever it is that you models do, and we’re going to hit the beach before I lose what little good lighting will be left.”
She sat there before him with the most stubborn set of her jaw that he had ever seen. Her adorable button nose flared out in anger and her eyes had taken on an ember hue, proving that she was truly made of fire.
“Ooohhhh…” Apollo acted out a huge shiver fest, his eyes rolled at the same time. “You so scary, Thorn.” Fake Mexican accent used, he took a step toward her. “I’m only going to ask you one more time, Thorne. Please, go shower and get ready.”
He was almost pleading with her, trying to be nice before he took a drastic measure that might get his ass kicked, since he wouldn’t hit a woman back—well, unless she went for a ball shot. Then all bets were off.
“And just what do you think you’re going to do if I don’t?” Thorne scoffed, with a comb of her fingers through the thick mane of ebon hair. “Nothing. That’s what. So just drop it, okay?”
Apollo shook his head making a game-show buzzer sound. “Wrong answer. The right answer was ‘Sure thing, babe. I’ll get right up and get all sexified just for you.’”
“In your wet dreams.” Thorne smirked and folded her arms over her chest, since the sheets had fallen down a while ago during their pillow fight.
“And you’re about to be in a wet something, alright.”
Before Thorne could question him, Apollo jumped toward her, scooped her up and tossed her over his shoulder into a fireman’s carry. Her scream of surprise echoed through the room as he marched them into the bathroom and right for the—holy hell! Fuck calling it a shower. He wasn’t sure what the fuck to call it. The shower took up one whole wall, which was covered in a cave-like rock formation. One section of the stall dropped down into an in-ground tub that looked like a hot spring. At the other end of the stall was a waterfall that automatically turned on once he stepped past a certain spot on the floor.
Recovering from the shock that nearly rendered him stupid, he spotted the water temperature knobs and flipped the hot off and the cold to full blast.
“You can quit beating the shit out of my back and try not to kick out; you’ll break the shower glass.” The stall automatically slid open as he stepped toward it, he swung his hand up—the sound of flesh smacking flesh rang out in the empty shower.
He never gave her time to react, just tossed her onto the padded seat under the waterfall. Oh yeah, he jumped back when she screamed in shock as the water hit her, then he bolted for the bathroom door. “I’ll be on the porch waiting for you.”
* * * *
He. Was. A. Dead. Man.
Yup, she was already plotting just how she was going to kill him and get away with it. She knew many ways to get rid of a body, and if she wanted to make it look like an accident? Not a problem. She knew of herbs that were undetectable, and she knew how to hide a needle track if she really wanted to make it look good.
Right under the scrotum.
Most M.E.’s never looked there, but then again, being a medic, she’d be the number one suspect and they might actually look there.
Damn it.
Back to square one.
The cold water—no correct that—the freezing water almost sent her into hypothermic shock, though her ass was on fire from where he had planted his large hand. She had not been spanked in years, and the thought of him doing it again?
She shivered in actual anticipation.
Maybe she needed to be bad more often if getting all but raped was the punishment? Or the spanking. That could lead to even better punishment.
“What on God’s green earth are you thinking?” Thorne muttered to herself as she turned up the hot water before she actually got frostbite on her nipples.
Dalton was crazy. There was no reason that he needed to take pictures of her. She hadn’t been in front of a camera in almost a year. She was scared to. She didn’t want the world to see her battle wounds, to know the hell she had been through and was still going through.
Thorne wasn’t even completely convinced that she had what it took to even get back behind the camera again. It was tedious and grueling holding poses and facial expressions for hours on end. She knew that Dalton wouldn’t subject her to that, or so she hoped. Maybe an hour’s worth.
Right?
Mentally accepting the fact that she was going to allow him to do a shoot with her was a milestone toward healing. She knew it, and personally didn’t want to allow it, but deep down in her heart, she knew it was a step in the right direction.
She’d never admit it to Dalton, though.
Thorne wrapped a towel around herself, tossed her hair up into another towel, then began rummaging through the dresser in her large, walk-in closet. The dresser housed every bikini she had ever done a shoot in, and several that were given to her as gifts by the designers—a form of free advertisement for them, having a model wear their clothing out and about.
“Well, poo.” Thorne crinkled up her nose as she searched for the right bathing suit for today. She padded barefoot over to the sliding glass doors and threw open the blackout curtains to see what the day was looking like.
It was bright, with a slight overcast in the sky. The ocean was clearer than usual, blue-green and foaming as the waves crashed to the shore. The sand was dark beige, a bit of seaweed covering the ground, but that was easily moveable.
With her golden col
oring and obsidian hair against the turquoise looking sea, she might want a dusky rose colored suit or a stark white one. Those two colors would stand out the most against the back drop and take the attention away from her face.
Thorne meandered back to the dresser and dug around until she found the one bikini that she knew would work.
Once she got it on and tied off just right, she blow-dried her hair into the soft curls that came naturally. With makeup applied, she squared off with the full-length mirror that lay hidden behind the door of her bathroom.
Her breath left her as she stared at herself in the mirror. It was not what she was expecting. Her golden eyes, softened by rose and gold eye-shadow, were made more cat-like with the black eyeliner that was layered with a gold-toned one. Lip gloss tinted with pink graced her full lips, not wanting to make them loud or too pronounced.
The scar on her face was expertly hidden by the way her hair fell. She couldn’t have asked for more.
It was the bikini that did it, though. It was stark white with fringes over the breasts that faded into a light rose color. The cups had a light underwire and enough padding to be a pushup bra, giving her ample cleavage to show off.
The bottoms were tied off at each hip, emphasizing her curves, and faded, as well, into the light rose color at the groin, giving just enough color to wonder if it was a mood changing based bikini.
She hooked an anklet around her leg, a simple piece of jewelry that accentuated the slim lines and added a touch of class to the suit.
Nodding to herself in the mirror, she took in a sharp breath then quickly released it. “Okay. Here goes nothing.”
* * * *
When she stepped out of the house and onto the porch, Apollo nearly dropped his mug of coffee.
“Whoah,” was the only word that he could muster at the moment. She had struck his ass dumb.
He knew his mouth was hanging open and he was standing there like a teenager trying not to explode in his pants while looking at his first porno mag, but hot damn. She was the epitome of sheer perfection. He didn’t see the scars; he saw the shy female rocking back on her heels, trying not to fidget as he all but drooled over her. He saw the beauty of her blush and the way she ducked her head to hide from his scrutiny and the fact that she was slightly embarrassed.
“I can change. I just thought—”
“Fuck me, doll. Nuhuh. No changing.” He set his mug down on the wooden railing and reached out to take her trembling hand. “Please, you’re perfect. I was not expecting you to be so…” Apollo shrugged, not knowing a classier way to say it. “Fucking hot. You gave me an instant hard on, Thorne. That says a lot.”
“Really?” Thorne’s voice cracked, her blush deepening by his crude way of saying she looked good.
“I’m not going to apologize for telling you that you turn me on, Thorne. And for God’s sake, don’t be embarrassed by it. You are gorgeous, Espina Lopez. You are my beautiful disaster.”
And she was just that. She ran hot and cold, never warm. She was made of fire, but she could melt at his touch. She was an angel, but at the same time, she had the devilish side that came out at the drop of a hat.
He closed the space between them, slightly hesitant as he lifted his hand to brush the hair from her face. With a gentle caress, he ran the back of his knuckles down her cheek, avoiding the scar as not to startle or scare her.
Apollo watched her facial expression change under his touch, the way her eyes softened and how she leaned ever so slight into his touch. He could see the craving of wanting to be touched underlying the hesitation in her breath. This was a woman who needed special care, and he was going to be the one who was going to give it to her. Whether she liked it or not.
He had a feeling they were going to learn from one another on how to trust, how to live again, how to be best friends, and whatever else came up. His man brain wasn’t up to the task of thinking about that sort of subject matter at the moment, considering that most of his blood had rushed to the other head for the time being.
He had to stop before he took advantage of her again. Apollo had wanted her from the first moment he laid eyes on her. She was a fresh medic, training under Saber. His brother had brought her to the diner for dinner, and he knew right then that one day he would have her. But he was with Gabby at that time and he wasn’t one to stick his dick in places it didn’t belong when he was with someone. Now though? All bets were off.
“C’mon.” He took her hand and led her off the porch onto the warm sand. “I want some pictures of you on that rock,” he pointed to a rounded rock that was jutted out of a wading spot, the sun directly behind it. “Then I’m going to want you in the water, then some on the sand. Okay?”
Her smile was nervous, but Thorne nodded her head, clearing her throat. “Alright.”
Apollo gave her hand a squeeze before he let her go. “Need help climbing the rock?”
A single brow arched as she glanced over her bare shoulder at him. “I usually sit on this rock in the mornings and have my coffee while watching the tide go out. I got this.”
He should have known.
Apollo watched her move with ease and assuredness as she maneuvered her way up the rock. Just for the hell of it, he snapped a few shots of her movement to test out his shutter speed. At least that was what he was telling himself.
Once she was on the flat part of the surface, he motioned for her to take a seat. “I want you to extend your legs out, but keep the right one slightly bent. I want to see the sun through your leg. Rest back on your elbows and arch your back a touch, angle your head back, but not too much.”
She must have known the exact pose he sought because in a matter of seconds she was in the position he wanted. He knew with the way the sun backlit her that she would be nothing more than a soft silhouette against the stark blue of the sea. The sky had exploded into various colors of pinks and oranges, almost giving it a dusk feel.
Apollo took several shots from different angles, allowing her to adjust as she saw fit, noticing that she never once looked directly at the camera. It was always over his shoulder or down at herself, but never at the lens.
“Okay, let’s do the water.” He offered her a hand, helping her down from the rock, catching her in his arm as she stumbled off the last ledge. “Easy there.”
Looking down at her, his breath was almost stolen by the vulnerability that lay in her turbulent gaze. Her succulent lips were parted in a silent breath, so fucking inviting. Apollo couldn’t stop himself. Nor did he want to. His head dipped, closing the space of a few inches between them, allowing the barest of touches between their lips. He could feel her breath catch and the slightest of shivers as her fingers curled into his T-shirt.
He could not stop the huskiness of his voice, making the longing evident in what he was about to say. “You need to get wet for me, Thorne.”
Her laugh was throaty and deep as she stepped back from him, and heat ignited behind the golden eyes. “Just how wet do you want me, Dalton?”
Apollo watched her as she backed up toward the water, coughing into his hand as he tried to find his voice. Her flirtatious manner was new and exciting and he wasn’t sure just how far to take it. “Oober goober wet.”
Thorne burst out laughing as she spun around in the sand and jogged toward the water as if she had no care in the world.
APOLLO HAD SPENT THE afternoon locked away in his bathroom developing the pictures from earlier that day. Being alone was a bad thing right now. It was taking everything he had not to sit there and rub one out thinking of how the day’s events transpired.
Once she was in the water, the shoot became playful and light hearted. The developed pictures revealed a side of Thorne that Dalton had never seen. Her face radiated happiness and her body language screamed that she was being nothing more than herself. Her smile was wide and full of laughter and her eyes spoke volumes of that sassy side he was growing to love.
One of the pictures that stood out was one he had accident
ly caught. She had ducked under a wave, and when she came up, she had thrown her head back, her hair a wild fan with streaks of water following its path. She looked ethereal, much like a nymph, perhaps even a mermaid coming up for air or to spy on the sailor that had caught her eye.
His other favorite was one where he had asked her to pose on the sand. It was the old Demi Moore pose from Striptease. One leg crossed over the other, her foot of the lower leg was tucked just under her butt cheek. Torso was leaned forward to hide her chest from view, her hand cradled on the lifted knee. The silken strands of black were caught in a tiny breeze, floating across the left side of her face, giving her a more mysterious appeal. From the pose alone, you couldn’t tell if she was nude or not, and the angle of light against her skin was breathtaking.
Everything had gone perfect today, until she saw the crowd forming. That was a damper. Thorne had been so fucking carefree, and with the umbrella lighting and the metal plates he had laid out, since the sun was moving, the beach crowd was eventually going to notice. Which they did. Then they came to see what was going on.
What did she expect? She had a banging body, a beautiful face, and her laughter was infectious. No one who stood there saw the scars she was so ashamed of. Apollo wished he knew how to get her to see that. This was something she was going to have to work through all on her own.
Yes, the club could strong-arm an agent to get her modeling jobs, but what would that accomplish? The feeling of winning all on her lonesome was what drove her, he had seen it on her face too many times to mention.
All of it was shut down when she saw the lookie-loos. Thorne froze up and it was over. Luckily, he got the shots he did.
Apollo took the last picture out of the solution, lightly shook it off, and hung it up on the clothing wire he had rigged in his bathroom. Snapping off the red lamp, he flipped on the regular light and stood there gawking at the pictures. He had not realized how many he had developed.
Apollo was about to call Thorne into the bathroom to show her, when he heard shattering glass. He was frozen for a millisecond, though it was the terrified scream that set his feet into motion.
Fractured (Devil's SixGuns MC Book 2) Page 11
