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“Are you sure? You know we don’t have to do this. Just because Layla asked doesn’t mean we can’t tell her no or take separate shots, and she somehow meshes us together. I’m sure she’s talented enough to keep our arms and legs in the right places.”
I chuckle as the thought of our mismatched poses being globbed together eases some of the tension.
“I’m serious.” His voice is thick and husky. And closer, as if he’s leaning against the wall and talking through the crack in the door. “If you don’t want to do this, I’ll tell her to go. I know she’s your best friend, and she’s a bulldozer with her passion projects, but she’ll understand. I’ll make her.”
“Thank you, I appreciate it.” I clutch the doorknob with shaking fingers.
Why is he being so kind to me? Or is he disgusted by the idea of touching me and hoping I’ll back out, giving him a free pass? Not that I blame him. I’ve never wanted to do couples shots because they feel fake and, even worse, look fake if you can’t get into the person.
“But I’ll do what I agreed to do. I don’t break promises.” And then, he’s there. All 6’3” of him in a white dress shirt that’s open to the middle of his chest with the tail tucked into a pair of black trousers and a matching belt emphasizing his waist. On his feet are a pair of leather shoes.
Stop drooling. His dark eyes bore into mine, and my knees buckle. Before I hit the floor, I grasp the door’s edge. “Oops.” I straighten and act like I stumbled over my stiletto heels and not over how impossibly sexy he is.
And it keeps going. His sleeves are rolled up, exposing his muscular forearms and the intricate veins that bulge as they carry blood from his large hands. Then, there’s his thighs. Lord, he’s a lot of man. Ian was scrawny compared to Cole.
What will it feel like having this man hold me? Touch me? Devour me? The walls of my sex flex as desire takes over and hijacks my rational brain. I no longer remember he’s my brother’s best friend. Or that he’s a serial dater. I want to climb him like a tree. Just once. What’s wrong with just once?
His nostrils flare as he balls his hands into fists. He’s a man. I’m a woman. By the time we get done laying all over each other, we’re going to be desperate for release. One time. That’s it. And then I can officially forget my foolish obsession with him.
“You’re gorgeous.” The words coming out of my mouth sound bizarre. I’m not flirty. Or girlie. I’m the tomboy who tried to fit in with a noisy, burping house full of boys.
“Thank you.” His eyes dart to my chest, causing the color on his cheeks to brighten. “You look….” He meets my gaze again. “Stunning.”
“Thank you.” I smile tentatively. “Um….” Before I can get the words out, Layla bounds out of Cole’s bedroom. “I thought you were going to climb out the window and disappear.”
“No.” I shake my head and clasp my hands together. Cole’s eyes darken, and if I’m not mistaken, he lets out a slight groan. The energy around us zaps as every inch of my body hums, and the hairs on my arms stand. Yeah, there’s not going to be any issues with this photo shoot looking real at least from the lust front. Deep emotions might not be involved on either side, or his side, whatever, but the physical connection between us is off the charts.
Cole clears his throat and steps back. “Where do you want us?”
Layla grins in response as mischief fills her eyes. “My client has very specific instructions. She wants a bed, Harbor straddling you as you sit on the edge of the mattress, and your fist wrapped around the chain coming from Harbor’s neck.”
Holy shit. I’m going to spontaneously combust.
“And Harbor’s arms tied in a bow behind her back.”
“Shit,” Cole coughs and lifts his hand as if he’s going to rake his fingers through his hair.
“No, you don’t.” Layla glares and grips his forearm. “Hair is perfect. Don’t touch.”
I’m not typically into kink, but it’s as if her client researched into my darkest fantasies and wrote out a scene I’d love to reenact with Cole. I grab the bag I stuffed my clothes into and follow behind them.
It takes several minutes for Layla to set everything up as she instructs us to move pillows, cover lamps, shut blinds, and yank the covers back.
I swallow hard as I study the sheets. How many women has he brought back here? I know he’s not a virgin, and neither am I, but the thought of how close we’re going to be when he’s had sex with other women just inches away–maybe in this exact same scenario–fills me with jealousy. I glance away from the bed as Layla twists knobs and takes test shots from across the room.
Cole clasps my arm and twists me away from Layla’s line of sight. His voice is low as he says, “When I moved in here, I bought a new bed. And these are new sheets.” He licks his lips. “And I’ve not dated since Emilia moved back, so no one’s been in here before now.”
“I….” I inhale and swallow. “You don’t owe me an explanation.” My heart thunders in my chest. That’s a lot to take in at once. He’s been celibate longer than I have. And that’s been too long.
“Yes, I do.” He leans closer until all my senses are filled with him. His scent. His heat. His size. All of it. It overwhelms me, leaving me lightheaded. “I don’t want you thinking about someone else being in here. And if there had been someone else, I wouldn’t have suggested my house.”
“Okay.” I try to nod, but my body doesn’t move. I’m mesmerized by the look in his eyes. Until the camera flashes, and I return to reality. We’re not alone. Layla tilts her head and smiles.
“Don’t move. Either of you. Look back at Cole.” She bites her bottom lip and waits.
Once I’m looking at him again, she snaps off several photos. “Cole, place your hand on her jaw, push her head back, and step between her legs.”
He doesn’t speak as he follows her directions. The second his palm touches my skin, I whimper. His thigh pushes my legs apart. “Put your other hand on her butt and cup the cheek with your fingers denting into her flesh.”
