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“I’d be lying if I told you it didn’t, rojita. I’m a selfish bastard and I’m glad that I’m your first.” Even if I’m not going to be your last. It hung unsaid, but it was as if he had voiced the words out loud.
She couldn’t bear the bleakness in his eyes. “Make love to me, Nic,” she pleaded, and Nic needed no further urging. He was careful at first, sliding in and out of her with careful strokes, but Lexie didn’t want him to hold back. She wanted fierce, she wanted rough, she wanted all-consuming. She wanted everything she could get tonight from a man she could never have.
* * *
Nic woke up to the sound of running feet muted on the carpet. Before he could react, the door to the bedroom was thrown wide open and Blair walked in. Stopping midstride, her jaw unhinged and fell slack. Nic raised a finger to his lips and glanced at the sleeping figure beside him. Thankfully, the duvet around their hips gave them some form of modesty. Smirking, Blair backtracked and carefully shut the door behind her.
A hand shot out under the covers to push tousled titian locks off her face.
“What time is it?” came the grumpy query.
Nic glanced at his Rolex. “It’s seven-thirty.” He braced himself for the predictable morning-after panic attack. The irony wasn’t lost on him. In the past, he was the one who couldn’t get out of a post hook-up fast enough.
Her Royal Highness surfaced out of the covers in delicious disarray, her hazel eyes bleary eyed from lack of sleep. Hell, she looked way too beautiful in the morning in a way he wasn’t prepared for, all creamy, soft and dewy skin. He felt himself growing harder than he already was.
Nic’s abdominal muscles tensed in anticipation of the look of horror that would wipe away her lethargy once she remembered what they had been doing all night. Knowing that rejection would be forthcoming wouldn’t lessen the pain. Even if he armored himself against it, she would always find that chink where she could stab him with the power she wielded over him. Again and again.
Clutching the duvet to her breasts, she blinked owlishly at him. “Oh good,” she murmured, her voice still husky with sleep. “You’re still here.” She was studying his chest with seeming fascination. “I thought you were just a very, very wet dream I was having.”
His bark of laughter seemed to confuse her as little furrows appeared between her eyebrows. “You can pinch me to check if I’m real.” She hesitated. “Or I can pinch you here.” His hand reached out to dive under the covers and between her legs.
Nic groaned at the way her legs automatically fell apart to give him access. Just one lick, one taste, he promised himself, then he would stop, but then she made that throaty little sound of pleasure and everything quickly spun out of control. His PR agent was going to have his head if he arrived at the shoot late. He was fucked either way, Nic thought, so better that he made the most out of the situation now.
* * *
They arrived at the studio fifteen minutes late.
Lexie couldn’t believe she had agreed to come to the photo shoot with him, but her mouth had already said “yes” before her brain caught up and flashed danger signals that she was getting too close. Act first, think later would seem to be her default mode around this man. After a quick shower and change of clothes, with Nic wearing the same clothes from the night before, they made their way to famous celebrity photographer Priscilla Dux’s studio in West Hollywood.
Priscilla was tall, gorgeous, and charming. Lexie learned that she had been a model before deciding to be the one behind the lens.
“My apologies, Pris,” she heard Nic apologizing as they bussed each other on the cheek. Quickly, Lexie shut the lid on her jealousy like it was Pandora’s box itself. Who knew what complicated, messy things might come out if she didn’t keep a close guard on that box? “We were held up by traffic.”
Priscilla’s smile held as Nic made the introductions. She was sure the photographer’s keen eye for details hadn’t missed out on her still-damp hair gathered in a ponytail and Nic’s overnight stubble and rumpled clothes.
