by M. S. Parker
“Is taking pictures like sex for you?” The question popped out of me before I even knew I was thinking it and I clamped a hand over my mouth in horror. Dammit! I couldn’t even be around him without thinking about sex. I closed my eyes. “Sorry. Shoot me now.”
I heard a faint laugh. “I’m afraid I can’t do that.”
The amusement in his voice made me open my eyes, but I couldn’t see anything on his face. He glanced past me before looking back at me again. “Why’re you here? If you need a last minute wedding photographer, you’re out of luck. That’s not my gig.”
He delivered those words in a flat monotone as he slumped against the door jamb.
I blinked. “No. I…uh…well, if you know somebody, that would be great, but we can’t have you taking pictures if you’re part of the wedding.”
“Part of the wedding?” His brows shot up as he jerked ramrod straight, like somebody had swapped out an iron rod for his spine. “Says who? The one in October, I have about as much a say in it as you do, but this weekend? I don’t remember agreeing to that.”
“Edward will want you there. He just hasn’t gotten around to asking.” I peered around him, not wanting to think about him. “Can I come in? I kinda…” Swallowing, I said softly, “I need help.”
Thick, heavy lashes fell down to shield his eyes and for a moment, he didn’t move at all. Then he stepped aside and I entered, my arm brushing against his chest. Electricity jolted through me, but I managed not to let show any sign of it. I just walked deeper into the studio. “I…ah…” How did I say this?
“How about you just spill it, Tennessee?”
Tennessee. The nickname brought an unwilling smile to my lips and Flynn circled around just in time to see. Tension had lived and breathed between us from the first time we’d met, when he’d all but crashed into the room where I’d been trying to have an interview for a real job. It had just gotten stronger with time. Most of the tension had been uncomfortable, like sandpaper on the skin, but there had always been an undercurrent of something else.
Just spill it.
Yeah. Good suggestion. Get straight to business.
“I need money.” His eyebrows shot up under his hairline as I gave him a rough estimate of what I needed and then I hurried to explain. “I’m flying my family up for the wedding this weekend. I need to pay for their tickets. I have to buy a dress. The one…”
Shit. So much for cool confidence. Shoving my hands through my carefully tousled hair, I started to pace. “I’ve got a dress and it’s gorgeous, but I need to save it for the October wedding or your mother will try to force me into some monstrosity and that’s not all. I need money to pay for…”
Running out of breath, I looked back at him.
He’d closed his eyes, head lowered. Sensing my gaze, he opened his eyes and stared at me through eyelashes that should’ve been too thick for a guy.
“Do you have any jobs?” I asked, the words coming out smaller than I’d intended.
Jaw in a tight line, he averted his face. His voice was gruff. “You do realize that Edward would give carte blanche with his considerable bank account? All you have to do is ask.”
“I know, but…” Feeling foolish, I wrapped my arms around myself as I forced the admission. “I can’t. I’ve…I pay my own way, Flynn. It’s how I was raised. Maybe once we’re married, it will be easier. I don’t know.”
“Everyone already thinks you’re using his money.”
He didn’t say it harshly, but I still almost flinched.
“That’s another reason why I don’t want to do it,” I said quietly.
“You don’t know how to let a man take care of you, Gabriella.” He jerked a shoulder in a shrug. “I’ve got work, but the kind of jobs I have that will pay what you’re asking? You won’t want to do them.”
“It doesn’t matter what it is,” I said immediately, not liking the way he’d just assumed I wouldn’t do the job. The relief I felt made my knees weak and I sat down on the worn couch behind me. “I need the work. What are the jobs?”
The only thing I had on was a mask. There was a dress, but I was just holding it. Why the hell would someone just hold a dress? It was supposed to be from the Regency period, but it looked a period or two too late. Flynn said the client had sent it specifically. Why would someone go to so much trouble to pay for portraits and not make sure they were entirely accurate?
Apparently, these were the questions I asked myself to keep from thinking about the fact that I was currently standing naked in front of one man while I was engaged to his brother.
“Lower the dress,” Flynn said. His voice was professional and calm, which should’ve been a relief, except that I thought he sort of sounded like my gynecologist. “Have it right at your thigh like you’re going to drop it. That’s it.”
He walked me through everything and I followed his directions automatically, even as I mentally coached myself to relax. Easier said than done.
I’d told myself I wouldn’t pose naked for him.
But this was the only way to get the kind of money I needed quick enough. Or at least the only way that hadn’t involved going to Edward. I still needed to find a dress and I had to pay for the gift I’d selected for him. I’d already called the gallery and they’d agreed to hold it until tomorrow, so what else could I have done?
“Turn around. Keep the dress right where it is, let it trail around. Now drop it.”
Sure, Edward would give me carte blanche with his checking account, but the last thing I wanted to do was ask for it. His mother was already convinced I was marrying him for his money and even though I knew otherwise, the accusation still stung. I didn’t want to do anything that would make him think there was any truth to Claire’s lies.
Once we were married, it would be easier to feel like it was ours rather than his. Right?
“Look over your shoulder at me. Act like you’re removing your mask.”
I followed his instructions and tugged at the mask, glancing at him as I did so. His eyes were glittering, but the moment our gazes locked, his lashes swept down. When he raised his eyes a moment later, the heat had cooled and he was professional once again.
But it was too late. I’d seen the look. My nipples tightened in response and I felt heat gathering between my legs.
“Turn back to me.”
Biting my lip, I did so, reluctant now that my nipples were pulsing in rhythm with my heartbeat and my skin was flushing. Flynn’s face was hidden behind the camera now, but I saw his hands clench on the expensive piece of equipment and for a moment, there wasn’t a single picture taken.
That heat between my thighs turned into a torrent of raging fire and I felt myself growing wet. Wet and ready...
Shit.
“I want you to look down,” he said, his gruff voice cutting through the fog in my head. “Take off the mask, but don’t look up. Let your hair hide your face and place the mask over your…breast.”
The hesitation in his voice had me shooting a glance at him. I shouldn’t have. The raw hunger I’d heard had a shudder running through me. Agitation and need twisted through me and I wanted to scream. Grab my clothes and run out. Grab him and kiss him. Why didn’t I feel this sort of heat with Edward? Edward loved me. Edward wanted me and he treated me right. He didn’t hurt me.
“Grab the dress. I want you on the divan.”
Immediately, my mind shot into dangerous territory. Me, on the divan. Flynn, on top of me. Wanting me. Needing me. Filling me...
Shit.
I swallowed convulsively and grabbed the dress, holding it front of me like a shield.
“Is there…” I stopped to clear my throat, because for some reason, it had become as dry as the Sahara. “Do you have a robe? It’s a bit chilly in here.”
Flynn stared at me like I was speaking some obscure, foreign dialect and then abruptly, he turned on his heel. “Of course. I’m sorry.”
While he disappeared, I hurried over to the divan, the dress
clutched in front of me. My fingers had gone cold and numb, while every other part was overheated. From my face all the way down to my toes, I was hot and my breath came in ragged little pants.
We could have been making out for all the pent-up energy threatening to make me explode. I felt like I was going to jump out of my skin.
“Here. For…later.” Flynn tossed the robe onto a column he sometimes used as a prop. It promptly fell off, but neither of us moved to pick it up. He gestured vaguely at the divan and instructed me to lay down. His throat worked and he said, “I need to…we’re using the dress as a prop. I have to adjust it.”
Slowly, I sank down onto the divan while my heart sped up into dangerous territory. He was going to touch me. Shit. He was going to touch me.
Curling my hands into fists, I settled back on the cushions and focused on the ceiling. In desperation, I thought about how much of an ass he’d been. Some of the things he’d done, how he’d tried to blackmail me with those first nude pictures he’d taken of me. The way he’d turned and walked away the one time we’d slept together, like it had meant nothing. The way he’d made me think we’d slept together a second time, when I’d been too drunk to say no. How he’d let the guilt eat me up.
I braced myself for the sizzling contact, half in dread and half in anticipation.
But it didn’t come. Somehow, he managed to tug the dress into place without even brushing my skin. When I darted a look at him, he was fixated on draping the material so that it ran across one breast, cut a diagonal swatch across my belly and covered the curls between my thighs before flaring out to drape over my hips.
Without looking at me, he explained, “I’ve got a client who does erotic historicals. She wants some shots from above. So you’ll need to stay like that for a bit. We’ll put the mask back on.”
I glanced around and saw that I’d dropped it during my dash back to the divan. “I…”
“I’ll get it,” he said, his voice brusque.
It was harder not to look at him as he walked away from me with that graceful, powerful stride. When he turned towards me, our eyes met for a moment and I closed mine. I needed a distraction. I mentally started thinking through everything else I needed to think about. I had to find my dress. I needed flowers. I needed to make sure Edward would get in touch with his mom and dad about the details for this weekend. I’d call Cody of course. Talking to my newest best friend sounded like a great idea. And I could call Kendra afterwards. I needed—
“I need you to open your eyes now.”
His fingers finished combing my hair into place as I opened my eyes. He didn’t look at me as he adjusted my mask. And then he was walking away, giving me a great view of his tight ass. I licked my lips and drew in a deep, steadying breath.
I was not looking at Flynn’s ass. Nope.
This was going to be the end of me.
“How many more shots do you think you need?”
“For this part of the shoot, this will do it, but these are only one part of the first assignment.” He dragged the ladder over and climbed up, lifting the camera to his face. “This one pays two thousand. The other two jobs will take care of the rest of what you need.”
The other two…?
Shit.
The second job was a mix of me stripping and holding my bra to my breasts while I wore another mask, a plain white domino this time. The client had asked for specific facial expressions and they were so stupid, I was hard pressed to make them without giggling. Even Flynn cracked a smile or two as I contorted my face into the most ridiculous positions.
“Please tell me these aren’t going on some pseudo-porn sites,” I said suddenly, more than a little serious, despite my smile.
“They aren’t.” His tone was oddly reassuring. “This client…well, she’s got plenty of money and not as much business sense as she thinks. I told her that she was heading in the wrong direction, but she was adamant. Once we’re done with what she thinks she wants, I’ll take some more and give her what she really needs.”
“You so sure you know what she needs?” My heart gave a wild thump as I remembered how well, the one time we’d slept together, he’d seemed to know exactly what I’d needed.
Flynn busied himself with his camera, oblivious to where my thoughts had gone. “One thing I’m good at is photography. So, yeah. I know what she needs.” He straightened without looking at me and twirled his finger around. As I turned, he said, “Put the bra back on. I want the mask off now and act like you’re turning to look at me, but stop just shy of it. Let your hair hide your face, then start to take off the bra.”
This felt more natural.
And…erotic.
By the time we segued into the third section of the session, I couldn’t even lie about needing the robe. My cheeks were so flushed that, before Flynn moved to drag a mattress under the hot lights, he told me to splash some cold water on my face. The last session was going to be done sans make-up anyway. I was glad he’d told me to go because the last thing I wanted to see at the moment were Flynn’s muscles flexing while he pulled a mattress over to the spot where the two of us had...
A couple of deep, steadying breaths and a splash of cold water and I was able to push the memories out of my head, but it took an effort. More of one than I liked. I pulled on the robe even though I wasn’t cold.
“This client just wants something artistic. Creative.”
I shot Flynn a look, dread curling through me. But he wasn’t looking at me. He had a crate full of material and I watched as he pulled out what looked like pieces of velvet, ribbon…rope.
I started shaking my head when my brain jumped to the logical conclusion. “I don’t think I like the idea of being tied up.”
Under his breath, he made a noise of some kind before answering me, “Not tying you up. Just using it in the picture. Relax, Tennessee.”
Relax. Relax? I might have attempted to give some sort of snarky comeback, but I’d developed some sort of breathing issue in the past thirty seconds. Shrugging out of the robe, I settled on the edge of the mattress and laid down, following his gestures. When he draped the rope over my skin, I fought not to react, but this time, I didn’t succeed. His eyes flew up to meet my mine as my breathing hitched.
“This…” His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed and I could see the emotions warring on his face.
My hands curled into fists. I almost reached for him, almost grabbed him and kissed him and…
His eyes moved down to his hands. “It won’t take too long. She doesn’t want anything specific so I’m just going with my gut.”
He turned away and I felt like I’d been left adrift.
After taking several shots, he shifted from the rope to the ribbon. This time, he didn’t speak or look at my face. It didn’t make it any easier for me to feel the heat from his hands as he arranged the ribbon.
And then it was time for the velvet.
I sat on the edge of the mattress and he knelt in front of me, using one length to wrap around my wrists, another to tie around my eyes in a pseudo blindfold. Then he wound one around my breasts so that it covered my nipples and nothing else.
I tried to ignore his hands, but from time to time, the roughened pads of his fingertips brushed my skin. It was so quick, so faint, I knew it was just accidental, but still, even the light contact left my skin sizzling. Then, as he secured the velvet behind my back, I wasn’t able to muffle the moan as the scent of him overwhelmed me. I sucked in a breath and, although I knew I must have been imagining it, I had the craziest sensation that he was just a breath away, waiting to kiss me.
I swayed forward, ready for his lips to touch mine. Wanting him to kiss me.
I licked my lips in anticipation and the camera started to snap over and over.
Flynn started to bite off instructions in a rapid-fire voice, talking so fast that I could barely keep up. I went from sitting on the edge of the mattress to lying down to kneeling and then standing up, my arms overhead and the
n stretching them down in front of me with my head bowed. I was sweating before I realized it and breathing hard.
And my nipples ached, throbbing in time with another part of my body.
“Bring your arms in, thrust your breasts out, head back…”
I did it and held still, waiting for the next command.
But it didn’t come. After taut, heavy seconds ticked away and there were no more pictures, I said, “Flynn?”
My throat was dry and raspy.
“We’re done.”
He was on the far side of the room. I tore the ribbon from my eyes just in time to see him disappear into the bathroom without another word.
I was already dressed when he emerged, my hands still trembling slightly. This had been a really bad idea. I glanced at him. His hair looked oddly damp, as if he’d been splashing water on his face, and I quickly looked away, not wanting to meet that penetrating blue. I went back to scrolling through the pictures. He’d taken so many.
“Here.” He held out his hand for the camera. “I’ll load them on the computer. It’s quicker that way.”
“You don’t need…”
He just continued to wait so I shrugged and turned it over. I would feel better seeing. Or maybe not. I still wasn’t sure.
Posing naked was so far outside my comfort zone and I ended up holding my breath as I waited for the images to load. Very few actually showed me naked though. I’d read enough romance and seen enough of these sort of covers to know that even the ones where I was naked, the nudity could easily be obscured.
“They’re beautiful,” I said, my voice husky.
“Easy to take good pictures when you’ve got a good model,” Flynn said with a self-deprecating shrug. He bent over a black portfolio and I watched as he scrawled his name on a check. The sound of paper tearing seemed terribly loud and he turned, shoving it into my hand. “Here. You did good work.”
Mute, I nodded and continued to eye the images, seeing them in a different light now. I wasn’t just naked in them, crazy as that sounded. It seemed as though he’d pulled hidden secrets out of me, unknown desires. Things I wouldn’t let myself look at.
