“Oh, I have poses, all right,” he tells me, right before he starts popping off with several poses that consist of nothing more than him flexing his muscles in the tight black gym shirt he’s wearing. When he doesn’t find that effective enough, he brings his legs to the disco, showing off the impressive muscle there, and it’s a miracle I don’t swoon at the sight of them.
Biting my lip through the free show, I watch and absorb every pose, storing them in the memory bank in my mind before I tell him, “I’m ready to get this party started when you are, muscles.”
“Then, by all means, let’s go do a photo shoot,” he announces with a flair I thought only I was capable of. Laughing, I hop off my stool and gather my purse, camera, and travel light I had the good thought to pull out of my closet three days ago. Tucking my feet into my Converse before gesturing to the door as soon as I have everything, I check I have everything before turning to Caiden.
“After you, Mr. Miller,” I drawl with a fake English accent I’m sure would bring Henley a great amount of pride.
Caid snorts as he heads out of the door before me, and I follow after, my eyes directly landing on his ass outlined to perfection in his gym shorts. There is method to my madness after all, and there’s certainly no way I would have followed after a man unless it was to check out his buns.
And Caiden’s buns, much like Baxter’s and Ryan’s, are worth following after. I’m sure once I check out Rayne’s ass thoroughly, he’ll join the list, because I’m almost convinced there isn’t a single thing physically wrong with these guys. They’re all drop-dead gorgeous, so much so that I’m convinced they were created instead of birthed. It’s unnatural, for sure, but I’ll be damned if it’s not an absolute delight resting my gaze on each of them.
And today, my gaze will be resting on one-fourth of pure perfection, and I simply can’t wait.
Chapter Forty
Caiden
We only stop for coffee on the way to the gym, my treat since Ryan already treated her, the lucky bastard. I know coffee can’t compete with the shit I imagine Ryan did to our girl, but it’s a start until I finally go from where I am to where he was. I’m a patient man. I waited two years to get this photo shoot, and I can wait however long it takes for Maddie’s and my relationship to develop naturally.
Thankfully, the coffee pit stop puts a little pep in Maddie’s step as we walk back to the car, her teeth biting into the straw as she hums under her breath with her first sip. She makes the same sound once we’re seated, and again when we’re back on the road, and I have to clear my throat and my mind when my body starts reacting. I can’t very well go into a photo shoot rocking a hard-on because Maddie likes to enjoy her coffee with sounds that could be mistaken for the soundtrack to a porno.
When we bounce over a pothole I didn’t quite spot in time, distracted enough that I’m not paying much attention to the road, I wince when she says, “If this coffee spills on me, I’m walking directly into the ocean.”
Seconds pass.
“Not to die or anything. Just to reflect.”
A grin wide enough to hurt splits my face, and I treat myself to a glance at her. The morning light pours through the windshield, catching blue strands of her hair every time she turns toward me, and I have to keep reminding myself to watch the damn road instead of her. I barely manage it, captivated for the millionth time by the sight of Madison Fowler.
She’s beautiful as always, her hair in a cute wavy bun with blue strands hanging neatly around her face. She’s in casual clothes that still somehow manage to make her look sexy, the shorts tight enough to show off the rounded curve of her ass and her jersey short enough to reveal a thin strip of pale skin between where her shirt ends and her shorts begin.
And I have her all to myself for the next however many hours it’ll take to snap enough promotional photos for the gym. A solid win for a guy itching to spend some one-on-one time with the woman he’s been crushing on for two years.
“You’re smiling suspiciously,” Maddie drawls, and I glance over at her, finding her watching me with narrowed eyes and a quirk to her lips.
I shrug. “Can’t a man be happy to be spending time with his long-time crush?”
“No.” She points her coffee at me accusingly, then pauses before tilting her head. “Actually, when you put it like that, I suppose I’ll let you off with a warning.”
“Gee, thanks, Officer,” I snicker, and I catch a beaming smile from her that I capture with the camera in my mind, the memory joining several others I’ve accumulated over the months Maddie has been in our lives.
The remainder of the drive goes by with the level of chaos I would expect with Maddie. She steals two sips of my coffee despite having her own. She critiques several billboards like she’s personally offended by their design, and then she spends a full five minutes passionately ranting about why seagulls look like they wouldn’t pay child support. After that, we listen to music, swapping playlists at stoplights and choosing which songs to queue before we reach the gym. I’m pretty sure Maddie turns on every girly-pop song she can find for no other goal than to aggravate me, but joke’s on her. I sing to every song like I wrote them myself, overdramatically putting on a free concertfor her with every song she chooses. I was raised with two mothers. I know my shit about girly songs and feelings and all that crap.
Mads is actually cackling by the time we reach our destination, and I consider it a job well done, my heart filling with the sound of her laughter.
“That was the best concert I’ve ever experienced,” she tells me the moment we’ve parked and the music stops.
I offer her a bow. “I’m an entertainer at heart.”
“Whatever you say, diva,” she quips, climbing out of the car with a little hop that jiggles her ass in ways that will embarrass me if I follow after her right now. She peers back into the car when I don’t move, pale-blue eyes questioning before she verbalizes what her eyes are asking. “Are you coming? I can’t take photos of you if the you isn’t there to take photos of.”
Nodding while I try to fill my brain with anything gross that will stop my dick from hardening even more, I mutter, “Yep. Be right there.”
She nods even as she squints at me, shutting the door before heading to the trunk and gathering her camera and travel light. By the time she’s done, I’ve managed to wrangle my wayward appendage back under control, and I climb out of the car just as she reaches my door.
Flashing her a grin, I ask, “Ready, Blue?”
“I was born ready,” she quips, and then pauses. “Well, that’s not entirely true. I was born screaming and covered in someone else’s bodily fluids, but you catch my drift.”
