He retreated to his dressing room, stripping out of his jacket as soon as he walked in. To his relief, the stylist handed him both the briefs and the dance belt. When he put them on, it seemed like the belt’s padding and compression would do a decent job of keeping his dick as unobtrusive as possible, even if he did end up getting hard again. He clung to that “if” like it wasn’t just a “when” in denial.
As Shane pulled on his robe, there was a knock at the door. Dario entered, followed by Mercedes. They both smiled warmly at him.
“How are you feeling so far?” Dario asked, perching on the arm of the easy chair in the corner.
“Fine. Good. Is everything okay?”
“Actually, we were coming here to ask you the same thing,”Mercedes said. “Is there something going on between you and Lilah?”
“What do you mean?” Shane asked, in his best attempt at nonchalance.
“You haven’t said a word to each other all day.”
Not just today,he wanted to reply. “Oh. We, um. We just like to stay focused when we’re working. Not get distracted with chitchat.”
Mercedes and Dario exchanged looks.
“Right,” Dario said. “The thing is…we’re not feeling the chemistry. We know you two have it, obviously. But that connection is missing right now. That’s what this whole shoot is about. Without that, it’s just vulgar.”
Shane scrubbed his hand over his face. “Shit. Sorry.” He gestured to his robed body. “I guess I’m a little nervous.”
Dario’s expression cleared. “Of course. Totally understandable. We’ll be closing the set for the rest of the day, if that makes a difference.” He stood back up. “Also…no pressure at all, and I’m not suggesting you get wasted or anything, but if you want, there’s always the option of having a shot of something to help you loosen up a little.”
“Like what? Morphine?”
Dario chuckled. “I was thinking tequila, but I can check the first aid kit for something stronger.”
Mercedes cleared her throat. “We could also get you two together and take a few minutes to do those bonding exercises I was talking—”
“I’ll take the tequila,” Shane interrupted.
The shot warmed him from the inside out, the tension in his body instantly dissipating. Not all of it, obviously. That would’ve taken the entire bottle. He tossed another one back for good measure.
He strode back onto the set, a little more swagger in his step. Lilah showed up a few minutes later, looking slightly more relaxed, too. They were herded into the bathroom, which was almost as big as the bedroom, with an ostentatious chandelier dangling over a detached claw-foot tub in the center. True to his word, Dario had closed the set, clearing the room of everyone except the three of them and Mercedes.
At least it was warm in there.
“Whenever you’re ready, you can take off your robes,” Mercedes instructed. Shane turned away from Lilah to take his off, not that it mattered.
To start, Dario shot Lilah in the mirror as she pretended to do her makeup, the reflection catching Shane sprawled in the (empty) bathtub, watching her.
The vintage theme of the shoot extended to her lingerie, which she definitely hadn’t been wearing under her dress earlier—a strappy bra that stretched down her ribs, high-waisted briefs, thigh-high stockings, garter belt, and heels, all black. Shane had never really understood the appeal of fancy lingerie—it always seemed like more of an obstacle than anything—but she was making a hell of a case for it.
Even though the bra gave her an almost cartoonish level of cleavage, his eyes kept drifting down to the sliver of midriff between her waistband and the bottom of her bra, the stretch of exposed thigh revealed by the tops of her stockings. It was less skin than she’d show in a bathing suit, but something about the negative space of it all made it feel obscene.
All he could do was stare as she arched her back and leaned over the counter, reapplying her lipstick. His brain was immediately hijacked by fantasies of smeared lipstick, fingers digging into those taunting flashes of skin, her serene expression in the mirror turned glazed and undone.
His first instinct was to suppress them. But there was no point in trying to hide it, trying to hold back. As disturbing as it was that she could still get under his skin like this, this was, ultimately, what they wanted from him. To see how much he wanted her. Fuck it. He could give that to them, no acting required.
“Amazing, Shane. Keep looking at her just like that. Lilah, toss your hair over your shoulder and look back at him.”
She did, and when her eyes locked on his, a jolt went through him. He knew that look. She wasn’t nervous anymore, either.
“Stunning. You two are killing me. Lilah, go over and sit on the edge of the tub. Take your time, though.”
She capped the lipstick and turned around, pausing for a beat to lean against the countertop. Dario circled them as she sauntered over to Shane, her heels clacking out a leisurely rhythm against the tile. He let himself drink her in, bringing his thumb to his mouth and lightly brushing it across his lower lip as he watched her. Her gaze tracked it, her breasts rising and falling with a heavy exhale.
Under Mercedes’s instruction, she perched on the side of the bathtub, ankles crossed demurely, like her ass wasn’t inches from his shoulder. She placed her hand on the nape of his neck, pleasurable goosebumps rippling across his skin as she slowly spread her fingers across his scalp. Once she had a solid grip on his hair, she used it to guide his head back as she looked down at him hungrily.
