I roll onto my back to put some distance between us because if Liam found out I’d been helping myself to a guest like this, he’d be unimpressed. I’m here to take care of her Ralph problem, not her.
That creep got dangerously close yesterday. If I’m to avoid him getting even closer, I need to concentrate. If I give into temptation and bury myself in Phoebe’s lush depths, I’ll be no good to anyone.
You sure about that, buddy?
I’ve no sooner thought this, than Phoebe rolls over to face me, her eyes full of passion, her lips parted on another sigh. There’s no missing the invitation.
It’s at this point I think back on how her breast had felt in my hand.
Wonderful?
Yeah that, and naked! If not for my still wearing boxers and a t-shirt, I’d be worried we’d already made love. And if I stay here, that’s exactly what’ll happen.
A quick check of the ancient clock on the dresser next to the bed shows that it’s still early. Much as I want to roll over and give into temptation, I can’t.
And neither can Phoebe.
Hadn’t she said she was due at hair and make-up at seven? And if the shoot is as big a deal as she’s made out, shouldn’t she be on time?
I turn my head on the pillow so I can look at her when I speak. “Your shoot?”
After a moment’s confusion, her eyes widen. She then lifts her head off the pillow so she can check the clock on the other side of me.
“Oh, oh, oh.”
A second later, she flings the covers to the side and jumps out of bed.
Now I’m the one whose eyes are widening as I take in her gorgeous curves. I’ve not seen nearly enough when she disappears into the bathroom, all the while wailing about how she’ll be late.
Because I’ll be accompanying her to the shoot, I’ll also need to be ready. This sees me reaching into the bathroom, only far enough to grab a towel. Rather than join her, which would definitely see us late, I head for the courtyard.
A cold plunge will have me clean enough and hopefully take care of an erection that’s showing no signs of abating.
Despite our departure being a blur, I’m still on high alert when we exit the tunnel into the carpark. There’s no-one around, other than one of our casino guards. Whereas he’d usually be upstairs, this morning he’s standing next to the elevator.
That he’s on duty is obvious, with his stance pointing to him being ex-forces. There’s something about those guys that says you can rely on them.
A brief nod to the guard, and we take the elevator to the second floor where she’s getting ready for the shoot. I leave only once Phoebe has entered the room, with her under strict instructions to phone me when she’s ready to leave.
While she might be safe making her way downstairs with the stylists as they’ve offered, I veto this. With Ralph getting ever desperate, it’s not a risk I’m prepared to take.
At this stage, all I know about the shoot is that it’s for the Curvy Girl Resort Wear label, which is apparently a big deal.
What even is resort wear?
As I watch Phoebe shrug free of the toweling robe she’d worn from hair and make-up, down to the shoot, I couldn’t even tell you my name.
I’d thought that bikini she’d worn for the Sports Fan cover was hot. It’s got nothing on the silver bikini she’s wearing now. Watching over her during the shoot will be both a blessing and a curse.
I’m keeping my composure until the photographer asks her to turn away from the camera.
It had to be a thong, didn’t it? It’s gonna take a couple of dozen bags of party ice in the plunge pool to take the edge off this erection. And the smile Phoebe gifts me over her shoulder says that she knows.
That’s not all it says.
SEVEN
PHOEBE
