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His hands lock onto my backside and he jerks me closer, growling into the curve of my neck. “No one fucks with my baby girl.”
“Not as long as you’re around,” I whimper, grinding my hips up and back. “You keep me so safe.”
“Always.” His hot, open mouth settles against the sensitive spot beneath my ear, his breath pelting me faster, faster. “Ahh, Christ. You’re going to make me come in my pants again.”
“No.” I stop moving. “Inside me.”
“Angelica,” he says raggedly. “We talked about this.”
“No more touching, unless you’re giving me everything.”
Though it requires a lot of willpower, I’m determined to convince him that giving in doesn’t make us evil. So I start to climb off of his big lap and he yanks me back down with a grunt. “Mine.”
“Am I?”
His expression holds a warning. “Angelica…”
“If I’m yours, you better show me. I’m beginning to doubt…”
That’s a lie. There isn’t a single doubt in my head.
But I need to be claimed, fully and completely, so I’m playing dirty now.
Murph surges forward, sealing our lips together in a blatantly sexual kiss, my mouth opening on a whimper and allowing his tongue to fill me aggressively, his hands pulling me closer, closer, while I attempt to get away, even though I want anything but.
“Oh this. This is perfect.”
A new voice in the room has us breaking apart, breaths shallow. I look over at the entrance of the studio where a vaguely familiar man is standing holding a large camera. One of Taryn’s interns hovers at his elbow, nervously waving a clipboard. “I-I’m sorry to interrupt. The photographer is here from Esquire for the shoot. But I can see we’ve come at a bad time, so…”
The intern nudges the photographer and jerks her head toward the door, but he sweeps closer to me and Murph instead.
“I love this concept. Beauty and the bruiser. The juxtaposition is breathtaking. Our editorial team is going to go crazy for this…”
He’s already lifting the camera.
Murph’s muscles are coiling, his teeth bared at the man, as blindsided by the invasion of our private moment as I am.
“This…this isn’t part of the shoot,” I blurt in a rush, wrapping myself around Murph, instinctively wanting to shield him from the constant overexposure that comes with my fame. “This is my, um…my Murph. He’s not part of the shoot.”
“Oh, but he should be. Together you are big and small.” The photographer slaps a hand to his chest. “Rough and polished. Fragile and fierce. It’s intoxicating! May I please just snap a few shots?”
I start to deny the request. Obviously. I don’t want our new relationship to be splashed across magazines for strangers to speculate about.
But…maybe, just maybe, there is a little devil on my shoulder urging me on.
Telling me to let the pictures be taken. Published everywhere.
There is a part of Murph that still thinks of me as his best friend’s little girl. But I’m not a kid anymore. If he could see these pictures of us, he would accept that fact. And if my father forbids a relationship between me and Murph, what if Murph listens? It would break my heart. It’s already kind of breaking now, just thinking about that possibility.
But if I allow this not-so-innocent photo shoot…our relationship won’t be this secret thing anymore. It will be real. And I want it to be real so badly. I want it on film, so I know I didn’t imagine my dream coming true.
Lastly, ever since Murph arrived…I’ve realized that my career isn’t what I want it to be. It belongs to everyone else. Not me. I’m just a toy. And I want to be real. I want to be raw. I want to burn it all to the ground and start over.
“Maybe a few pictures,” I murmur, slowly dragging the tip of my tongue up the curve of Murph’s ear. A violent shudder courses through him and he lifts his hips eagerly…and just like that, we’re the only two people in the room. Sure, there is the sound of footsteps creaking in a circle around the chaise, plus the occasional flashbulb going off, but my attention is zeroed in on the man in front of me.
“I don’t want him taking pictures of you,” Murph says, glaring at the photographer over my shoulder.
“There are pictures of me everywhere. In various stages of undress.” I suction my mouth to the side of his neck and pull deeply. “But you’re the first man to touch me, to be with me in any of them. This is the first time a picture means anything. Don’t you want to show everyone who I belong to?” I purr in his ear, nipping it with my teeth.
“Yes,” he rasps, his hands sliding up my thighs, around to clasp my backside, drawing me closer, so close that I whine in my throat, the bulk of his erection nudging my clit, then pressing hot against my sex. “I can’t help it. You’ve always been mine. Long before that night on the living room floor.”
