The Hearts Series

by L.H. Cosway

  Bitch.

  Okay, so I knew I had no right to be jealous. This was a predicament of my own devising. I’d had King’s attention from the beginning, and it had been my decision to deflect that attention with a fib. Yes, I’d made my bed, but it seemed I no longer wanted to lie in it. I hated feeling like this, so I tried to shrug it off with a joke.

  “I call dibs,” I mouthed at him, allowing my eyes to flick to the model just before she disappeared behind a rack of clothes.

  He took a step closer and leaned down to whisper in my ear. “I’ll thank you for the lovely visual, but how do you know she’s that way inclined?”

  His words made me shiver. I turned my face to him, startled when I found our lips a mere inch apart, and tapped the side of my head. “Top-notch gaydar.”

  King chuckled and stood up straight again. “Whatever you say.”

  For the next few minutes we were both quiet as King took in his surroundings, i.e. the other models. The place was jam-packed with bootilicious females. When my makeup was done, I peered at myself in the mirror, liking the results. She’d outlined my upper eyelids with black liquid liner, and used a golden-brown eye shadow to create a smoky effect. It made my usually black eyes seem brighter, like a deep chocolate brown. My lips were a glossy peach colour, and my cheekbones had been highlighted with a shimmery blush.

  A moment later a thin blond guy came and used a curling iron to style my hair into glossy waves. It took him less than five minutes, and right after he’d suffocated me with hair spray he was off, setting to work on the next model.

  I turned my head from side to side, admiring my ’do, then looked up to see King standing behind me. His focus was completely on my face. I’d been so preoccupied studying my reflection that I hadn’t noticed him watching me.

  “You look….” he began, but then paused, shaking his head. “Never mind.” He glanced down at his watch. “When do you think they’ll start taking pictures?”

  Before I could answer, Bradley sauntered over, carrying a clothes hanger. “Soon-ish. Here, Lexie, go put these on.” I took the clothes and went behind one of the nearby privacy screens to get changed. King followed but remained standing on the other side of the screen.

  “Have you ever modelled before?” he asked, curious.

  “Nope. First time,” I replied, and pulled off my T-shirt, trying to ignore the way my skin tingled to have him so close as I undressed.

  “You’re a photo shoot virgin,” he continued, a smile in his voice.

  “Ah, I gave you that one too easy,” I said, grinning and slipping off my leggings and boots. I turned to pick up the outfit Bradley had given me. It consisted of a tight black sleeveless dress with a sweetheart neckline, sheer tights, and a pair of bright red four-inch heels. I had a bit of trouble fitting my boobs into the dress, since the fabric didn’t have any give whatsoever. Standing in front of a full-length mirror, I tried some manoeuvring, letting out a quiet grunt. Ugh, I thought these clothes were supposed to be plus-sized. I felt as though I’d been sewn into the thing, like Sandy D and her slinky black pants.

  “Need some help?” King asked, his voice a reminder that he was close by.

  “Um,” I said, “could you go get Bradley?”

  Before I knew it, King had come behind the screen, and I heard him inhale a sharp breath when he saw me. Again, I tried to deflect the tension with humour. “Looks like I’ve been eating too many of the old onion bhajis. This dress is way too tight.”

  King stepped forward, and almost of its own accord his hand went to my nape before running down the length of my spine. My breathing hitched.

  “No,” he murmured. “It’s perfect.”

  “King.”

  “Yes, Alexis?”

  “That’s enough touching.”

  His hand paused when it landed just above my bottom. He ignored my comment and asked, “What did you want Bradley for?”

  I turned around, breaking the contact, and gestured to my chest region. “The girls can’t breathe in this infernal contraption.”

  King laughed tenderly. “Well, they look fantastic.”

  I scowled at him. “You’re not helping.”

  “I’m sorry,” he said and took a step closer, his voice lowering. “What can I do to help?” His eyes were nowhere near my face. No, they were glued to my heaving bosom.

  “You can stop ogling me, for a start.”

  “Sorry. Can’t do that. Anyway, why do you care?” He tilted his head and arched a brow.

  His question riled me. “Misogyny. That’s why I care.” Oh, God, I was officially grasping at straws. “All you men are interested in is boobs and bums.”

  King stepped forward again, and now he had me backed into a corner. “You forgot the third b-word.”

  “What?”

  “Brains.”

  I snorted.

  “Don’t believe me?”

  “Coming from the man who gave me an interview based on my looks.” I glanced away, already sensing this was an argument I wasn’t going to win.

  “Ah, but I gave you the job based on your quick wit. And I’ve already told you how intelligent I think you are.”

  “Why are you trying to butter me up?” I asked suspiciously. His chest was dangerously close to brushing up against mine.

  “That’s not what I’m doing.” A pause, followed by a thoughtful expression. “Can I ask a question?”

  I hesitated a second. “Sure.”

  Now he closed the remaining distance between us. His breath hot and humid on my cheeks when he whispered, “Have you ever had a cock before?”

  My heart stuttered as I swallowed, unable to meet his gaze. He continued talking. “You should try one, just to make sure. Who knows — you might even like it.”

  I still couldn’t look at him, and a heavy silence fell between us. My head swam with visions of him prying my legs apart and ramming himself deep inside me. My knees grew weak at the thought. His voice sounded different when he finally said, “Alexis, are you…?”

  “Lexie, you’re up,” Bradley called, interrupting whatever King had been about to say. Acting on instinct, I slid away from him and hurried to Bradley, needing an escape. I went and stood with the rest of the models who were awaiting direction. Giving my appearance one last look in a full-length mirror, I tried to summon some calm. Oh, King had been right — my boobs did look fantastic, even if they were being suffocated half to death. The cut of the dress and the push-up bra I was given worked wonders together.

  I was being led over to the set to stand next to two redheads when I caught sight of King again. He was standing discreetly in the background, taking in the activity, but when his gaze caught on mine, it scorched. He was staring in the region of my cleavage like he’d just spotted the Holy Grail.

  God, boys. So easily distracted by a pair of tits. Perhaps they also caused momentary insanity, and that was the reason for the way he spoke to me.

  For the first half-hour of the shoot, Bradley focused on group shots. I enjoyed watching him work, because he got all serious and no-nonsense. He still kept his sense of humour, though, and I chuckled when he began trying to explain to a model the difference between fierce and smouldering.

  “To smoulder, you combine a subtle pout with a slit gaze. To look fierce, you need to put your hands on your hips and stare at me like you want to fuck me and be the one on top.”

  I wasn’t sure which was funnier, the look of shock on the model’s face or the idea of Bradley letting a woman ride him. He caught me snickering and gave me a playful scowl before he was back behind the camera, snapping shots and shouting orders at people. Two outfit changes later, I caught sight of King again. I was kind of surprised he was still there, because even if there were attractive woman all about, this couldn’t have been much fun for him.

  And okay, maybe I’d been wishing he’d get bored and leave. It would mean I’d get to avoid the drive home and the possibility of him bringing up what he’d said earlier. He really wa
s on a mission to push my limits today.

  The outfit I currently wore was a lot more comfortable than the first. It was a plain white vest under a cream shirt with a pair of pale ripped jeans. Casual style. Bradley announced that we were taking a fifteen-minute break, which was a relief, because I was starving. I avoided searching for King and instead made my way over to catering. Picking up a plate, I loaded it with sandwiches and grabbed a bottle of water. Then I wandered to the far corner of the studio, sat down on a window ledge, and began to eat.

  “Alexis.” I heard King say my name right before he came and sat in front of me, close enough that I could smell his cologne.

  “Oh, hi,” I said, refusing to make eye contact. It was a good thing I had the window to stare out of.

  I was just about to start in on my second sandwich when he caught my wrist. “Do I need to apologise for how I spoke earlier? If I do, just tell me, and I will. I don’t want to jeopardise our friendship.”

  Now I finally looked at him, tilting my head as I considered his words. “Do you feel like you should apologise?”

  He shifted closer, his knee knocking against mine. “I only said what I was thinking. I told you before that tact wasn’t my strong suit.”

  I let out a breath. “It’s fine. Just try not to be so…pushy in the future.”

  “As you wish,” said King, holding his hand out for me to shake. He was so weird, but I shook with him anyway, trying to ignore how much I enjoyed the feel of his palm on mine. A silence elapsed, and I noticed he hadn’t gotten anything to eat.

  “Do you want to share some of these?” I asked, gesturing to my plate, on which I’d put way too many sandwiches. “I won’t eat them all. My eyes are bigger than my belly.”

  King gave me a slow smile, then reached forward to pick one up. “Thank you. That’s very generous of you to offer.”

  God, I loved how he spoke sometimes. It was like, if I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend he was Firth doing Darcy. We sat and chatted as we ate until I became aware of a third presence. Turning my head, I saw Bradley standing a few feet away, a camera held to his face as he snapped shots of King and me.

  “What are you up to?” I called, and he stopped taking pictures, lowering the camera and walking towards us. King sat beside me, silently observing.

  “You two look great together,” Bradley gushed before shoving the camera at me. “Here, take a peek.” I did as he said and flicked through the most recent shots. They showed me with King from various angles, chatting and laughing. We looked so…at ease with one another. And wow, King really did photograph well. He could pass for a model. And then Bradley almost echoed my thoughts when he looked to King.

  “How do you feel about being in some of the shots? We’d pay you for your time, of course. Baha do a men’s line, and there are still some clothes left over from yesterday’s shoot.”

  King eyed him, quiet for a long moment before he asked, “Would Alexis be in the pictures with me?”

  “Of course!” Bradley exclaimed. “That’s the main reason I want you to do it. You two look amazing in pictures.” Now he took the camera from me and handed it to King, who immediately scrolled through the shots. He didn’t say anything for a minute, his expression thoughtful as he took them in. I had no idea what he was going to say when he finally handed the camera back to Bradley.

  “I’ll do it.”

  “What?!” I screeched.

  “Wonderful!” Bradley exclaimed. He was already rushing off to find an outfit for King when I turned to face my boss. “You’re going to model? Seriously? What if someone who knows you ends up seeing the pictures?”

  He gave a tiny shrug and stared at me dead on. “What I do in my free time is my own business.”

  I narrowed my gaze at him, feeling like he was up to something, but I wasn’t quite sure what. A minute later Bradley was back, holding nothing but a pair of pale blue jeans. They had tears at the knees and were almost an exact replica of mine, except they were the men’s version.

  “Here’s your ensemble,” he chirped, and handed the jeans to King.

  I gaped and pointed. “That is not an ensemble. That’s one item. Where’s his shirt?”

  Now Bradley waggled his brow. “He won’t be wearing one.”

  To his credit, King didn’t bat an eyelid. In fact, he chuckled while shaking his head.

  “Oh, come on,” I protested. “You can’t be serious. This is a fashion shoot, not a…a sex shoot.”

  “Oooh,” Bradley crooned precociously, “sign me up for one of those. And you forget, my darling Lexie, that sex sells.” He pinched me on the nose, and I scowled.

  Bradley shot me a confused glance then, obviously not entirely getting why I was disgruntled. It made me suddenly realise I was arguing about having to see Oliver King topless. Yeah, I didn’t understand it, either. Clamping my mouth shut, I let my friend give us both instructions.

  Before I knew it, the rest of the models had been told to take an extended break and it was just me, King, Bradley, and a handful of other people left in the studio. King went behind one of the aforementioned privacy screens to change, Bradley telling him to take off his shoes and socks as well. Then he told me to do the same.

  Good God.

  What was I getting myself into? It wasn’t long before a fancy lounge chair had been plopped smack bang in the middle of the set by the props guy. King emerged in jeans and nothing else, and I practically choked on my own tongue. My boss was ripped. Even his bare feet were beautiful. He had gorgeously wide shoulders, muscular pecs, defined abs, and a “V” to die for. Not to mention a light natural tan. He had an even better body than my ex, Stu, and I knew he had to be one of those annoyingly smug health freaks who got up at four in the morning just to exercise.

  Yes, that was it. I needed to keep focusing on the vain smugness of someone who worked that hard on their body, rather than the fact that it made me want to crawl all over him. The problem was, he didn’t look smug. King wore an expression that was all, Here I am, take me or leave me, which only functioned to make him even more irresistible.

  Take him, some deep, feminine part of me pleaded.

  I noticed Bradley looking at King in almost the exact same way I was. Biting on his lip, he muttered under his breath, “Oh, we are going to sell some serious amount of jeans after this.”

  I shot him a cynical look. There was a bit of manoeuvring with the set, and I went to stand next to my boss, silent and awaiting further instructions.

  “Oliver,” said Bradley, “go sit on the chair. Alexis, I want you on his lap. Act natural. Try to give me that vibe you both had earlier when you didn’t realise I was taking pictures. I want you to seem like a real couple. Completely in love. Got it?”

  Whoa, eh, okay. I was in love with the man’s abs, if that helped. King strode over to the chair like he owned the room and sat down before his eyes found mine. Those eyes were commanding, their icy colour catching the light as it shone through the window. They were far too welcoming, those eyes, and I got the feeling he was going to enjoy this. He was going to enjoy it a lot. Mustering my trusty false confidence, I walked to the chair and tentatively lowered myself onto his lap. My hands instinctively went to his shoulders for balance, and his hand grazed my hip.

  Our eyes met, and I sucked in a breath. I was up close and personal with Oliver King’s face yet again, and I couldn’t look away.

  “Hi,” I said, trying my best not to sound awkward.

  He gave me a smile that lit up his eyes. “Hey.”

  “Are you regretting coming with me now?” I asked, voice quiet. Bradley had already started taking pictures.

  King brought his mouth over my ear. “Never. It’s the best idea I’ve had in ages.”

  I swallowed and looked down, my lashes shading my eyes. Unfortunately, looking down also meant looking at King’s abs, and now I couldn’t look away.

  “That’s perfect. I love it. You two are doing brilliantly,” Bradley encouraged us. He was clo
se, but he sounded far off. King had captured all of my attention.

  “Oliver, bring your hands up to Lexie’s shoulder blades. Lexie, can you move so that you’re straddling him? I’ve gotten plenty of you side-saddle for now.”

  I sputtered a laugh. Side saddle? Really? Letting out a tiny sigh, I moved my legs so that I was straddling him and felt a small breath whoosh out. When my gaze went to his throat, I saw him swallow. Was he having just as much of a hard time with this as I was? I was painfully aware of my ever-hardening nipples and how easily King would see them through the thin bra and white vest I was wearing. Bradley had told me to lose the shirt, so I didn’t have any coverage. Thankfully though, King’s attention was locked on me, alternating between my eyes and my lips. A minute or two passed as Bradley continued to provide us with directions.

  “Place your hand on her face, Oliver. I want lots of eye contact.”

  King didn’t hesitate for a moment, his hand gently cupping my cheek. The heat of his palm sent a tingle shooting right between my legs. I tried looking anywhere other than his face until Bradley gave me hell.

  “It doesn’t work unless you’re looking back at him, Lexie.”

  No other choice left, I lifted my gaze. My eyes met King’s, and his deep stare held me captive. One of my knees was hurting a little as I held up my weight. I adjusted myself so that King was taking some of it, and that’s when I felt him.

  He was hard.

  I gasped quietly, but King was the only one to hear. I didn’t know what to say. I mean, how would a lesbian react to having a penis hardening against her? Maybe she wouldn’t care. The problem was, I did care, and though I tried my best to ignore it, my traitorous body had other ideas. The spot between my thighs ached, and involuntarily my torso moved by the tiniest fraction. Delightfully exquisite pressure ensued. God, that felt good. And then I was wet. So wet.

  King didn’t fail to notice. His brow furrowed, his gaze searching, as I tried my best not to let him see the turmoil raging inside me. It felt like an eternity had passed, a million questions in his eyes that I didn’t know how to answer. Then those eyes left me, and I felt a flicker of relief. It didn’t last long, because when I saw where his attention had moved, my heart wanted to beat its way out of my chest. He was staring at my nipples, my nipples that were practically as hard as his cock.