I glance at my left wing, which is now attached to his right one.
“That might be a little too close,” Kylie offers, and though I can’t see her through the shiny fabric of my wing, I’m pretty sure she’s laughing at us.
Without warning, Nick takes a step back and I stumble forward, crashing face-first into his chest.
His rock-solid chest.
The familiar scent of ginger and citrus floods my senses and though I want to lean into it, I force myself to pull away.
Not that I can go far since we’re still attached at the wing.
His dark eyes bore into me, and my heart flutters because I think we’re having a moment. Then he opens his mouth.
“I knew this was a bad idea.”
“Just hold still.” I grab the top of his wing and pull it in close, looking for the spot where we’re connected. It takes a moment to comb through his brilliant feathers, but I find a piece of broken wire protruding from my wing embedded in his.
We must look like a pair of clowns. Me in my lovebug costume and him dressed as Cupid.
This is definitely not what I had in mind when I agreed to a few publicity shots.
I give the wire a tug, removing the hooked edge from his wing, and release him.
“Thanks.” He pauses. “And sorry about…” He gestures back and forth between us. “Before.”
I wave him off. “It’s all good.”
“Okay.” Kylie holds her hands up in a placating gesture. “Forget everything I said before. Apparently, there is such a thing as too close for comfort.”
Facts.
“Let’s try something else.” Kylie turns to Nick. “Why don’t you load one of your arrows and take aim at Scarlett for this next one?”
He groans and pulls a heart-tipped arrow from his quiver.
“I feel like an asshole. I can’t believe there are people who actually enjoy this.”
“It could be worse.” I smirk. “You could be wearing the diaper.”
“Bite your tongue,” he growls, the quiet rumble sending a bolt of desire straight to my core.
So not the time, Scarlett.
What can I say? The man might be the devil, but he looks good in wings and a crown.
Damn good.
And he smells good, too.
“Can you do that, Scarlett?”
Kylie’s question hangs in the air, and I turn to her, confused.
“Come again?”
“Blow Cupid a kiss.” She grins, and for a second I wonder if the heat from the booth’s light kit has scrambled her brain. “It’ll give the scene more movement.”
“I—”
