Other than her own nerves, she and Kel had settled into a very comfortable routine, sharing chores and spending time together when not working. She never felt pressured by him in any way, and he never made any advances toward her.
Although she was starting to wish he would.
To her shock, her uncle hadn’t tried to contact her again, but her weekly stipend had still appeared in her bank account the past four weeks. She didn’t know how long that would last, but she was being very careful with that money, as well as her paychecks from working at the consignment shop. Kel had set her initial rent and utilities at only one hundred a month for the first three months, to be renegotiated after that. She was responsible for chipping in for groceries, but since they’d started shopping together, that had been easy to do.
She made her bed every day, too, not wanting him to think she was a slob or anything.
Fighting the urge to lock her bedroom door and cower in bed, she forced herself out into the hallway and downstairs to the office. She found Kel leaning back in his chair, his chin propped up in the palm of one hand, elbow on the chair’s arm.
Storm clouds darkened his normally placid face.
“What’s wrong?” she dared ask.
When she spoke, the darkness fled his features as he offered her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. Stupid model just flaked out on me. That is the last time I will ever use her. She flaked out on me once before, but I gave her a pass because she gave me a good song and dance over it.”
“Oh.” She leaned against the doorway, arms crossed over her chest. “Model for what?”
“That suspension gig I’m shooting next door this evening. I’ve got a top rigger wanting my byline on his shots, and no damn model for him to rig. This is not going to look good. I don’t have anyone else I can call on such short notice.”
Mallory’s breath hitched in her throat as she caught and swallowed back the words she’d been about to say. Instead, she asked, “Who is it? The rigger, I mean.” She remembered Kel telling her about the shoot, but honestly hadn’t heard who the rigger was.
“Jaymzon Jordan.”
She gasped. “Oh, damn.” Even she knew who he was. One of the best-known riggers in the world, he’d starred in bondage films and had a bustling website selling photos and video clips. He was an innovator in the world of bondage and suspension. Every serious professional bondage model wanted to be tied by him and photographed for their portfolios, and every rigger attempted to imitate his intricate and artistic ties, as well as his nontraditional bondage techniques.
Kel swiveled his chair so he could look at her, dropping his hands into his lap. “Yeah.” Dejection swirled, replacing the storm clouds. “I’ve been looking forward to working with him. I blow this, I’ll likely never get another chance with him. He’s a perfectionist. He was in Naples for another shoot, and called me to see if I wanted to work with him on this.”
“Can you get anyone else to fill in? Any other models?”
“No one that I trust in just a couple of hours, who could do the work required of them. Tony and Shayla are out of town until tomorrow, but I doubt Tony would let her get rigged by him, anyway. He doesn’t let anyone tie Shayla unless he knows them personally. There’s no way Laura and Rob could get up here on such short notice. And I’ve heard Seth’s opinions on Jaymzon enough to know he’d laugh right in my face if I asked if Leah could be tied by him. That’s if he didn’t tell me to go fuck myself first. Not worth losing my friendship with them over the gig.”
“Why would Seth do that?” She couldn’t imagine the friendly man getting that upset.
Kel stretched his arms over his head, his spine audibly popping even from across the office. “Seth saw Jaymzon get into an online sparring match with some jackass on FetLife a couple of years ago. Jaymzon came off looking like a raging douchenozzle in the process, even though he was, technically, in the right. Seth doesn’t suffer douchenozzles lightly, regardless of how right they are.”
Her swallowed words regurgitated, even though her anticipation of being shot down nearly nauseated her. “I could do it,” she softly said. Heat filled her face, her gaze dropping to the floor as she hugged herself more tightly.
It would come any second, the laughter, the rejection. Then again, in the four weeks she’d lived there, he’d never, not once, made fun of her or teased her in anything but a loving and playful way.
Wait for it…
But he didn’t respond. In fact, he didn’t respond for so long that she finally had to look to see if he’d even heard her. Maybe she’d imagined saying it in the first place.
To her amazement, she found him studying her, his head slightly cocked, hands laced together and resting on top of his head.
“Really?” he finally asked.
She wasn’t sure what context he meant that, curious or snarky.
And asking him to clarify wasn’t in her. It’d taken every last ounce of courage she’d had to make the offer in the first place.
She nodded. “I mean,” she quickly added, “I get it if I’m too fat. I know that a lot of the riggers are looking for—”
“Stop,” he said.
His stern, harsh tone made her flinch again. He got up from his chair and walked over to her, tilting her chin up until she was forced to look him in those deep brown eyes.
“What did I tell you,” he softly said, “about putting yourself down?”
Every last ounce of nerve in her struggled to keep her focus on him and not look down at her feet. “Don’t do it.”
“Right.” He released her chin. “You’re not fat. I don’t care what the damn body charts say. You’re beautiful, and you’re healthy. That’s all that matters. A number on a scale doesn’t mean a damn thing if you can’t be happy with what’s inside you first. You’ll never find happiness in a scale. Ever.” He lightly rested his hands on her shoulders. “What’s your height and weight?”
“Five six. I think I’m one sixty right now. I came down a pound after my period ended.”
“Well, you’re in luck. If you really mean it. But it’s going to be a full-face, full-nude shoot. No masks or hoods. Is that something you’re prepared to deal with?”
“Is it a sex shoot?”
“No. He’s got a couple of new rigging techniques he wants photographed, and he needs the big space and the A-frame in Venture to do it. It’ll be a long and tedious shoot.”
“Needles?”
He smiled. “No. Just ropework. Well, bondage. He’s using some stuff in addition to rope, which is why he needs the beefy A-frame. Just modeling. No play, no impact, nothing like that.”
She swallowed and nodded, her heart stampeding in her chest. If she could do this, maybe Kel would see her as more than just a chaos-prone accident waiting to happen. Maybe he would see her the way she wished he’d see her.
“It’s going to pay five hundred,” Kel said, “but we’ll be shooting for probably close to twelve hours. You up for that? No wussing out halfway through to say it’s past your bedtime.”
“I can do it.”
“You’re going to need some decent make-up.” He glanced at his watch. “You’ve got three hours to go buy some, get a shower, and shave everything from the neck down. You have a black G-string?”
“I think so.”
“If not, add it to your shopping list. Do you need any money? I can advance it against what you’ll be paid.”
Her face filled with heat again. “Yes, please.” She haaated admitting that. She didn’t know yet if her uncle would pay her tuition for the next semester or not. She needed to hoard absolutely every last penny she could in case he didn’t.
Reaching into his pocket, Kel pulled out his wallet and thumbed through it. “Here’s a hundred dollars.” He handed her five twenties, but didn’t let go of them when she reached for them. “I’m trusting you with this,” he said. “And I don’t just mean the money. I’m trusting you not to let me down.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Don’t promise me. Just carry through with it. Don’t tell me. Show me.”
“I will.”
He released the money and turned to back to his desk. She hurried upstairs to her room, grabbed her purse, phone, and keys, and pounded down the stairs and out through the office door to her car.
No, I won’t let you down. I promise.
No way would she blow this chance. Especially when she suspected if she did, it would be her only chance.
And he’d called her beautiful.
If for no other reason than that, she damn sure wouldn’t let him down.
Chapter Sixteen
Kel dropped into his chair after she bolted from his office and headed upstairs. Moments later, she blew past him and out the front door, barely hesitating to lock it behind her. Then the faint sound of her car starting outside, and her driving away.
I hope this isn’t a mistake.
He couldn’t say he wasn’t attracted to her. That would be a lie. He was.
But after his last dating experience with Krystal, he’d sworn he would not get involved with someone who didn’t have their shit together.
And in his experience, that seemed to be a majority of the eligible dating pool in that area. Well, of women he found attractive.
He definitely found Mallory attractive. He wasn’t lying when he’d called her beautiful. She was.
So what if she had extra curves on her body? She was still beautiful. A beautiful person, a beautiful personality, an amazing mind, and a gorgeous, sexy package to boot. Even if she didn’t think she was. He’d seen the way men looked at her at Venture when they played. Likely there would be guys creeping out of the woodwork to hit on her if he and Tony and Tilly hadn’t quietly put the word out that she was under their protection.
He just had to work on her self-esteem, because that still lay deep in the crapper.
He’d resisted using her as a model before because he didn’t want her to cling to him, to get her hopes up that there might be a chance for more between them when he didn’t know if there ever would be. If it wasn’t for the fact he knew he couldn’t get another suitable model between now and when Jaymzon arrived, he wouldn’t have agreed to this. He suspected she thought his refusals had been because he wasn’t attracted to her. A faulty assumption on her part.
Attraction wasn’t the issue. He had no difficulty imagining any number of positions he’d love to tie her in and fuck her silly, spend hours making her come, showing her what a beautiful woman he thought she was.
Marking her flesh in a way no one else had before.
Not my circus, not my monkeys.
She was his friend, yes. As much as he loved her, she did not have her act together yet. The fact that life circumstances beyond her control had put her in this position wasn’t lost on him by any stretch of the imagination. Her uncle was a controlling asshole, sure. But she would have to find the inner strength to stand up to him and get her life on track. Twenty-two wasn’t exactly a child. If she didn’t make those realizations herself, she would spend her life being a victim without realizing it.
He had no interest in a victim. No interest in “fixing” someone. Life was hard, sucky, and frequently anything but fair. He’d had a couple of lucky breaks, but he’d had his share of bad ones, too.
She’d need a pair of bootstraps to yank herself up by if she didn’t want to spend the rest of her life under her uncle’s thumb.
And only she could do that. Everything she’d done thus far, in the short time he’d spent close to her, showed she appeared to be struggling to get her life on the right path. He would cheer her every inch of the way, help her if he could without enabling her, and support her as a friend.
Hopefully Ed would get her legal and financial mess straightened out and get her some answers so she could quit living in limbo.
Losing his heart to her until that happened and was all settled, however, wasn’t something he’d allow. No matter how beautiful he thought she was.
Kel lost himself in his work while waiting for Mallory’s return. Jaymzon wasn’t a rigger tied to only one body type. And he was notorious for loving to work with newbie models, fresh faces, be the one to launch their careers. It fed into his slightly narcissistic desires for attention. The rigger had done shoots with plus-sized models before. And that he would be using his new techniques not only on a new model, but on a model many women would easily relate to, would be a massive ego boost for the guy.
For his part, Kel knew his only issue that night would be keeping his jealousy firmly in check. He’d heard plenty about Jaymzon’s reputation in the rigging world. No, he was a professional while the lights were on and the cameras rolling, but after, it wasn’t uncommon for him to flirt with the models, ask them out, or invite them back to his room.
Would Mallory remember the rules she’d agreed to in the heat of the evening and under the onslaught of Jaymzon’s considerable charms, or would she disappoint Kel by eagerly going off with the rigger later?
Not that he had any say either way. He didn’t have an official relationship with her beyond friends, play partners, and tenant and landlord.
I’m a fucking dumbass.
If he ended up losing her simply because he’d been too chickenshit to admit he was attracted to her, he’d never forgive himself.
He scrubbed his face with his hands, irritation stealing his focus. He was falling for her. Had fallen for her. He couldn’t deny it.
But he refused to get dragged into some unhealthy dynamic that would turn his otherwise peaceful life upside down.
Been there, done that, got the farking T-shirt. So far, having Mal living with him had been a positive experience. She was easy to like, easy to live with, considerate, and fun to be around.
Time. That was all he could do was wait, give it time, and try not to get his hopes up unreasonably.
Because if he did, he’d have no one but himself to blame.
* * * *
Mallory sped to the mall and hit one of the cosmetics stores there for a free makeover. So as not to feel too guilty, she made some excuses and only bought a couple of the products they’d used—a foundation and blush—leaving her nearly sixty dollars. However, now armed with the knowledge of what she needed, she left there and headed straight to Target to load up on affordable eye shadow, lipstick, eyeliner, and other items in the colors the girl had told her would work well with her skin tone.
She also grabbed a black thong for only three dollars, and a blue satin bathrobe on clearance for eight.
It meant she wouldn’t have to wear her worn, pink terrycloth robe to cover herself.
Making it back to the warehouse just a little over an hour later, she pounded up the stairs with her purchases and to her room, dumping everything on the bed.
She heard Kel follow her upstairs until he stood outside her door. “Everything okay?”
She turned, smiling. “Yeah.” She pointed to her face. “How is this?”
* * * *
With only the little bit of makeup he’d seen her wear in the past, she’d been beautiful.
With the professionally applied makeup now artfully highlighting and accentuating her features, she looked stunning.
He nodded, swallowing hard. “Perfect. Gorgeous.”
“Great! Now I need to get my shower.” She turned back to the mirror. “I hope I can remember how she did it.”
“Okay. Enjoy.” He turned and hurried back to his office, tugging at the front of his shorts where his painfully throbbing erection strained against the fabric.
Holy…hell.
He didn’t know if it was the makeup or her happy expression, but she’d transformed from a forty-watt bulb into a thousand-watt spotlight in terms of brilliance.
I can do this. I can be professional. I’ve worked with hundreds of bondage models over the years.
But none of them had been ones he’d felt such a visceral attraction to before. Then again, he hadn
’t had any kind of a personal relationship with other models beyond negotiating their shoot and salary before the sessions began.
It was going to be a really long night.
* * * *
Mallory fought off a sick wave of panic as she started reapplying the makeup after she finished styling her hair. She’d taken several selfies with her phone before her shower, hoping she could emulate the results the professional had achieved.
Okay, so she wasn’t a dog. She’d admit that. Despite the extra pounds she carried, she was pretty.
It felt like a small weight rolled from her shoulders at that admission.
But am I pretty enough to hold Kel’s attention?
Truth be told, he was the only one she felt an attraction toward. Yes, there were some nice-looking single guys at the club. A few had even made advances at her over the past couple of weeks, but the only man she had eyes for slept in the next room.
And he had as of yet to make an inappropriate move toward her despite the increasingly sexy banter they shared during their scenes.
He also didn’t have a relationship. Sure, he played with others at the club, but she was satisfied to note he didn’t spend a fraction of the time with them now that he did with her. And he only gave her aftercare. Whenever he took a break, he always sought her out, stayed by her side, frequently holding her hand or with his arm draped around her shoulders or waist.
A silent message of ownership.
Then there was the fact that whenever she played with anyone else, he’d always stepped in and briefly spoken with the Top before they got started. And while it was going on, he didn’t play with anyone else, watching their scene until the end and he was satisfied she was safe, and providing her aftercare until she’d recovered.
It made her feel protected.
His Canvas [Suncoast Society] (Siren Publishing Sensations) Page 11
