“Brooklyn.” The warning in his tone is weak and I know, at least for right now, I’ve got him. He’s hungry. He’s tired. And I have the cure, in the form of a big plate of made-from-scratch pasta and sauce, and a glass topped off with aged merlot.
The way his eyes rove my body also suggests he’s hungry for more than just the meal. Well. If it comes down to it, I’m willing to let him do anything he wants—not just because I want to insure he hears me out, but because I miss the feel of his body on mine.
He pulls out a chair and sits, eyes tracking me through the doorway. I prepare his plate and bring it over, bending to display my cleavage as I set his food in front of him. I see the muscle in his jaw tighten as he forces his gaze away. Suppressing a smirk, I go back for my own plate, then serve us both a glass of wine. Snapping my fabric napkin, I set it on my lap after I sit.
“How was work?” I ask.
“It was…fine,” he says, then clears his throat. “And how was your day?”
“Excellent,” I chirp. “Now please eat. You’ve earned it.”
My behavior is all very wife-like and proper, and it’s clearly confusing the hell out of my husband. He gives me a steady look as he starts on his salad, and I can almost see the wheels turning in his mind. He knows I’m after something. But it doesn’t stop him from digging in to his pasta. I can tell he’s enjoying it by the way he pauses after the first bite, sighing softly.
I try to keep up with Luka, but I’m so nervous about talking to him that I don’t have much of an appetite.
When he finally finishes his meal and sits back with his wine glass in one hand, his expression is more relaxed. Maybe some of the fight in him has gone.
“So,” I say slowly as I set down my own glass, “I overheard something interesting while I was at the DRM offices visiting your sister the other day.”
One of his brows immediately shoots up. “Oh really. And what was that?”
“Oh, just that the agency is looking for the next Gisele so they can take on Maxilene’s ad campaigns. Exclusively. I mean, if all goes according to plan.”
Luka sighs and starts pushing away from the table. “I knew you were after something. Don’t even ask; the answer is no.”
I put a calming hand on his forearm. “Stop. Stay. Finish your wine and hear me out.”
He pauses, probably thrown by how authoritative my voice was just now. To my relief, he sits back again and reaches for his glass. “Fine. I’m listening.”
“This isn’t just about me wanting visibility or a paycheck. Think about it. Isn’t it better for your image if I’m successful? A wife reflects on her husband and vice versa.”
He grins but there’s no humor in it. “Obviously.”
I ignore his sharp tone. “Having a strong new model go out for the job would also reflect well on the company, and prove what it can deliver to the industry as a whole. That’s the main goal here, right? Making sure Danica Rose succeeds and presents its best face to the public?”
He sighs but doesn’t say anything. He has to listen to reason, and he knows I’m right.
Taking his drink with him, he retreats to the living room and settles onto the sofa. I follow him, watching him lean back against the leather cushions, his gaze intent on me.
“Well?” I say.
“If you want the job, you’re going to have to do what every other model has to do—audition.”
My heart flutters at the deep huskiness of his voice.
“Haven’t I already proven myself?”
“You want this, you need to do it properly,” he commands.
I go damp between the thighs watching him work at his tie until it pulls free. He tosses it to the side, then slowly loosens the buttons of his dress shirt. I want nothing more than to crawl onto his lap and ride his cock until we both explode. Instead, I set my glass down and move to stand before him, waiting for instructions.
“This is a nude audition. Show me how DRM’s prize new model takes off her clothes.”
I don’t hesitate—in fact, I have to force myself to slow down—as I reach behind my back and lower the zipper on my dress. He watches, eyes dark with lust, as I hold the dress to my chest and pull the straps over my shoulders with my other hand. Slowly, I spin in a circle, glancing at him over my shoulder before I bend low. I can feel the hem rising high up my ass cheeks, exposing the plump lips of my bare pussy, before I stand and complete my rotation to face him. I lower the dress by fractions, showing the firm swell of my breasts, and then I drop it.
It flutters to my feet. I step out of it and stand before him in my sheer bra and high heels, pulling the elastic from my hair.
“Turn around and bend over again. All the way, until your face touches your legs.”
