Instead, I'm taking other desperate measures. Shooting myself.
Dressed in a slinky, midnight blue negligee and matching stilettos—thank God for the three space heaters Jovi brought up here for me—I'm doing my best to pose while using a remote to capture the images I need. Even with the screen in full view, it's not turning out to be the most successful venture.
In part, because I don't know how to do sexy. I mean, I can create a sexy image. I can stage it, give cues and direction to anyone whether they're a professional or not. My whole business is built around it, but I can't portray it myself.
I don't know why, but anytime I try, I just feel awkward. And the fact that I'm attempting to sell the idea of romance and sex solo, isn't helping my tanking self-confidence.
I'm straddling a chair, one heeled foot perches precariously at the edge, giving a full view of, well, implied everything, loosely draped in silk, when there's a knock at the door, and shortly after, Jovi strolls in. Fuck me.
He takes one look at me, kicks the door shut and smirks. "What are you doing?"
"Working," I grumble, torn between closing my legs and keeping them as they are in a stubborn show of how uncomfortable he's not making me. Big. Fat. Lie. "I thought you were taking the kids for a trail ride with Cas." It's the whole reason I attempted this. Because I knew the kids were cared for. And off the premises.
"We were going to, " he says, lip still quirking with amusement as he walks toward me. "Started raining." He points a finger toward the ceiling and it's only now I note the pitter patter sounds of water pelting against the roof. "Cas took them to see a movie instead."
I nod. "You didn't go with them?" Dumb question. The man is standing right in front of me. Obviously, he didn't go with them.
"I offered," he says, now circling me, prowling around my lights and the camera stand. "But he told me to take two hours for myself for a change. Do something I wanted."
"And you came up here?" I ask, annoyed when I hear the hitch my voice.
"Come on, Liz," he teases softly, "you have to know by now that anything I want to do involves you."
"I'm working," I remind him.
"I see that." He stops behind my camera, lowering himself to peer through the lens. "I didn't know you spend time on that side of the camera. But you should. You look good over there. Damn good."
I clear my throat, suddenly feeling hot and like my skin has shrunk around my body. "Are you seriously flirting with me right now?"
"Yes." He stands straight again, eyes colliding with mine. "Tell me to stop if you don't like it. Because if you don't, Liz, I'll keep going."
"Until the kids get home?"
He shakes his head, slowly walking around the camera. "No. Forever." He stops right in front of me, lowering himself until we're eye to eye, both of us resting our arms over the backrest of the chair. "It feels so fucking right, Liz. Letting these thoughts and feeling out, setting them free. I don't want to cage them again. But I will if you ask me to."
"I won't ask you to."
His smile is tentative as he takes my hand, twining our fingers. "Good." He brings the tips of my fingers to his mouth, brushing soft kisses over each of them. "Now then, want some help?"
"Are you serious?"
His mouth quirks again as he stands upright, towering over me. "You really need to stop being so surprised every time I want to do something for you."
I nod. "Okay." But the word comes out all breathy and weak, so it's not all that believable. I want it to be though. I want to believe I'm the woman he shows up for in every capacity. I want to be that woman and know that I'm her. Without a doubt. Without fear that one or both of us will screw it up. So, I'll keep trying. Keep telling myself ‘okay’, until I believe it. Until I can make him believe it too.
"Where do you want me?" he asks, fingers moving to his buttons.
"Are you getting naked?"
He laughs, and this time, he's the one who sounds surprised. "Not naked. But I thought I'd try and match your vibe a bit better." With the first few buttons undone, he pulls the flannel shirt over his head, taking the white undershirt along with it.
I think I might have swallowed my tongue.
Holy hell, Jovi shirtless is still a thing of wonder. And I've seen plenty of male models in way less. But this, him, it's beyond compare.
His muscles are sculpted to perfection, and unlike the gym built bulk, these curves form to his body in flawless proportion, the undeniable evidence of his body's capabilities and the obvious results of the physical work he does day in and day out around here.
A light patch of hair dusts his chest and trails down from his belly button, creating an inviting path framed by the beginnings of a delicious v, both of which disappear under the waistband of his pants.
