“Hi, Carlos,” she greets before he kisses her cheek.
My fist tightens at my side at the contact. I hyperfixate on the spot where the photographer touched her, my jaw grinding.
Roman turns away, waving a hand. “I can’t watch this. Tell me when it’s over.”
Maddox and I exchange a look. It seems we aren’t the only two who can’t stomach the idea of another man touching what belongs to us.
“Okay!” Carlos claps, catching the production crew’s attention. “We’re going to do a few single shots, and then we can bring the model in.”
Roman’s head whips around to us. “Model?”
I shrug. “Probably another woman. Don’t think too hard about it.”
He shakes his head before going back to staring at the opposite wall.
Maddox and I are enraptured by Rosalie’s shoot. The sultry, seductive poses that Carlos suggests are the things of my wet dreams as Thorn kneels on the chair and places her hands in front of her before arching her back, and her perfectly rounded ass is in the air. She gives the camera a smoldering expression, glancing through her lashes as she subtly changes her position with every shutter of the camera.
“You’re on fire, Rose!” Carlos praises before instructing her to sit in the chair and throw her legs over the armrest.
Her head tips back, and we make eye contact. Her face is impassive until the corner of her mouth tugs up in a smirk, and she lifts a hand to her breast. She tucks the other neatly between her thighs before rubbing her roaming fingers over her hardened nipple. She teases it through the fabric, her eyes fluttering slightly as they burn into me.
Fuck, I’m hard enough to pound nails.
She knows what she’s doing, the little fuckingtease. God, this bold side of her really gets me going, and I’m forced to stand here like a fucking idiot and watch her. No touching.
It’s torture.
A dark chuckle tumbles past my lips as I tilt my head in warning.
“Oh, Rosey, darling! That’s perfect! Drive them wild!” Carlos shouts as there’s even more shuttering from his camera.
Thorn doesn’t heed my warning as her finger dips past the cup of her bikini top, and I catch the smallest sliver of her pale pink nipple. My mouth begs to close around the dusky peak as my breathing becomes ragged with desire.
“Oh, that’s x-rated, my love!” Carlos gasps. “Fantastic! Bring in the model, quickly, before she loses the vision!” He ushers his crew into action, sending a few scurrying to dragthe model out onto the set.
Elijah walks over to us, a hand raised to his mouth as he stares at Thorn with pride. “She’s a natural.”
Yeah, a natural fucking vixen.
“Perfect…” Maddox mumbles, oblivious to the brow-raised expression Elijah shoots him.
When a tall guy with windswept brown hair is pushed onto the set, Maddox and I both tense. This newcomer looks like model material with his exposed, sculpted abdomen and chiseled jaw.
It would take nothing to fucking shatter a bone structure like that.
“Fuck no.” Roman grits, his molars grinding as his eyes lock onto the male model shaking hands with Thorn.
Elijah glances between us like a deer caught in headlights. “He isn’t a security threat—”
“Don’t care,” Roman spits before brushing past the PR manager. We follow behind him, ready to do whatever it takes to make sure this doesn’t happen.
The photographer’s eyes widen when we approach, and he lowers the camera. “Can I help you?”
“We’re Rosalie’s security,” I smirk.
“No unapproved models without direct permission,” Roman instructs. “It’s in our agreement. Everyone is to be vetted beforehand. This is a breach.”
“Oh…” Carlos trails, glancing at Thorn. “My apologies.”
