Rosalie scowls at us. “Seriously? Dante is fine.” She motions to the male model, who preens like a fucking bird.
Roman crosses his arms, posting up as he stares down at her. “Breaching the contract results in early termination of any agreement proposed by either party. You do this, and we end it here.”
Her shoulders sink before she releases a harsh breath. Her mouth twists. “Fine. So, what do you propose I do? This is meant to be a couple’s shoot.”
Roman nods. “Kairo will do it.”
My head swivels around to him. “I will?”
“No!” Thorn gives an egregious sound. “He isn’t even a model!”
I scoff, rubbing a hand down my stomach. “I’m far better looking than Ken doll over here.”
Dante rolls his eyes before throwing his hands up. “You know what? I actually forgot I have another appointment. I’ll see you later, Rose.”
Rosalie’s lips part on a plea, but it withers before Dante can make it off the set. She closes her eyes tightly, taking a calming breath.
Carlos places a hand on my shoulder, turning me to face the production crew. “Can we get hair and make-up? I need him ready in ten.”
I’m whisked away by two women who take my arms and drag me into a dressing room.
“This is a dilemma…” Carlos says as he brushes a finger across his chin. I’m in a pair of tight, mid-thigh swim trunks that show far more than what’s necessary. My dick feels like it’s vacuum sealed to my god damned thigh. The photographer’s eyes are fixed on my legs, covered in two full sleeves of geometric tattoos. “I didn’t expect so much…artwork.”
He’s trying to be nice, but it’s obvious he doesn’t appreciate my ink.
Rosalie places her hands on her hips. “Hmm. Think of it this way. Wouldn’t it cause quite the stir in the tabloids? People will wonder who the model covered in tattoos is.”
Carlos’ eyes light up. “I love a good scandal. Let’s get this rolling!”
People scatter around us, and I’m pushed onto the set beside Thorn. We stand side-by-side as the photographer spouts off instructions, but I’m not paying attention as my hand lifts to the small of Rosalie’s back, and I feel her tense beneath my fingers before a full-body shudder wracks herspine.
Her warmth soaks into my fingertips, and her skin is so soft and smooth against my calloused palm. She feels fucking phenomenal beside me. “You were so brave earlier…” I whisper, staring down at her.
Her throat bobs in a gulp before her eyes, full of mischievous intent, shift up to me. “I’m brave now.”
A deep rumble of approval shakes my chest. “Good. Let’s play, Thorn.”
Carlos puts us in a few poses, and all of them are like pure temptation—Thorn standing flush against me, her hand gripping my bicep, and one of her legs between mine as she pouts for the camera, her with her back pressed against my abdomen and her head resting on my chest as I place a hand over her hip. It takes everything in me not to bunch up the skimpy little bikini bottoms just to see the outline of her pussy. The bottoms hardly cover enough as it is, and one minor adjustment will have her bared to me in an instant.
Roman and Maddox stand at full attention on the outskirts of the set. They’re much closer now, eating Thorn alive with their eyes as if they’re begging for a taste too. It’s in the way Roman keeps rubbing a hand over his mouth like he’s starving, and the subtle shift that Maddox gives with every move of my hands on our little Thorn.
Rosalie stays focused on the photographer, but I know she’s hyper aware of every movement I make. Her quiet gasps as I rub a hand across her stomach and the way she bites her lower lip anytime I pull her intimately closer to me are her giveaways. She’s just as affected as I am, but she’s doing a damn good job of hiding it.
Such a little fucking tease.
“Okay!” Carlos announces once the camera stops shuttering. “For this next pose, I need passion and desire! You’re both giving so much natural chemistry that I want something to make the people question their morals.”
I slide my hand to the nape of Thorn’s neck, bunchingher hair in my fist before subtly pulling her back. I lean down, my breath fanning over the shell of her ear as I growl low. “Can you do that, little Thorn? Let’s show the people who youbelongto.”
Those green siren eyes shift to me, her bravado strong. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
“Mmm,” I hum. “So feisty.”
We become caught in each other, staring into one another with so much pent-up energy and connection that it makes my skin prickle like a live wire. She can deny this all she wants, but even the photographer sees it.
We’re meant for each other.
When she speaks, her voice is soft but heavy with her conviction. “You make mesick.”
