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But he was a man on a mission and didn’t stop until he came to the end of the hallway. “I have the clothes I want you to wear in the bedroom.” He pointed to the door on his right. “There’s a bathroom in there you can use to get ready. When you’re dressed, come out this door and go across the patio, and I’ll be waiting in the studio.”
With that said, he headed outside. Meagan put a hand to her stomach in a useless attempt to calm the butterflies. Holy shit, she was really going to do this. Taking a deep breath, she walked into the bedroom and hurried to the bed to see what he’d selected for her to wear.
She stood, staring at it for several long seconds. Then, with a sweep of her hand, she picked it up and carried it outside and into Luke’s studio.
“What the hell is this?” she asked, lifting the scrappy material up to his face.
“It’s what I want you to wear.”
“You said clothes. This isn’t clothing.”
He walked toward her with long strides, never moving his eyes from hers, and when he stood before her, he took hold of her wrist. “Let’s agree on some ground rules, why don’t we?”
She was afraid to speak. If she didn’t say anything, maybe he wouldn’t know what the tone of his voice did to her. To counteract the delicious shivers running through her body, she lifted her chin. “Depends on what they are.”
“We both agree you’re not here as my submissive; however, I am the one in charge of these photography sessions and because of that, you’re going to listen and follow my directions.”
“That doesn’t sound so much like ground rules. Maybe more like you spouting things off and me blindly following.”
“Whatever you want to call it, sweetheart.” He nodded back toward the house. “Go change.”
She didn’t move. “You are such a pigheaded ass.”
“Turns you on, doesn’t it?”
Damn him for knowing the truth. “You’ll never know.”
“I already do.”
She didn’t know how to respond to that, so instead of goading him anymore, she went back into the bedroom to change. Once there, she unfurled the skimpy lingerie from the tiny ball she’d shoved it into, and was shocked at what she found when she held it up in front of her.
It was a high-end brand, known for their delicate handmade lacework. Its subtle sensuality hit her. It was really a gorgeous piece. But did he have it here, or had he bought it for her?
She wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
Moving quickly, she splashed water on her face and then applied light makeup, doing her best to ignore the way her hands trembled. Stupid nerves. She decided to leave her hair down, but brushed it until it snapped with electricity and fell softly around her shoulders. Something about the process of getting ready for Luke to photograph her reminded her of getting ready for a scene with a Dom, and the ritual of it eased her anxiety, leaving only excitement behind. By the time she slipped the short lacy gown over her head and stepped into the tiny panties, she felt calmer.
In fact, she was so calm, so prepared, and so ready, she had to stop herself from kneeling in front of Luke when she made it back to the studio. As it was, it felt as if he’d turned the heat up fifteen degrees.
She was certain he noticed, but he simply nodded. “You look perfect, Meagan.” He pointed to a wrought iron bench. “Go have a seat and we’ll get started.”
The cool metal soothed her heated flesh and she had only a moment to take a deep breath before she heard his footsteps. He didn’t give her instructions on how he wanted her to pose; he simply moved her himself. Within a few minutes, she was sitting straight on the bench, her hands folded in her lap, and her head bowed.
“Close your eyes.” His whisper was rough, but his hands were gentle as he swept her hair to one side so it fell across her right shoulder. “That color looks magnificent on you. Just like I thought it would.”
Her heart jumped up to her throat. Did that mean he’d bought it for her?
“So many people think of black when they think of lingerie and I agree, it has its place.” He trailed a finger along the lace skimming her breasts. “But I like this hue. The palest pink. Just a shade different from your skin. An alluring combination of innocence and seduction.”
He stepped away from her and she wondered if he was picking up his camera.
“It’s not the gown itself, of course,” he spoke, and she couldn’t hear anything from the camera. “That color could wash some women out or make others look too young. But on you, it’s almost regal.”
Surely he was taking pictures; she couldn’t imagine him standing there just talking. Not when he had photos to take. But damn it all, she didn’t recall him talking when he’d photographed her before. Back then, he’d been like your standard photographer—directing and shooting. The man he was now . . .
She’d vastly underestimated both him and his ability to affect her. And she had a feeling that was a big mistake on her part.
“I’m going to print these in both color and black and white.” He kept on talking as though he was having an everyday conversation. “I bet in black and white you’ll have to look really close to see what’s skin and what’s silk.”
As he spoke, she felt transformed. With his words wrapping themselves around her, she became something beyond herself. She was more than a model, more than a woman; she was a muse. Greater still, for those few short moments in time, she became his muse. And the shocking part was, she didn’t want to be anyone else.
She didn’t want the session to end either, because she knew once it did, she’d go right back to being plain Meagan Bishop.
“Lift your head, but keep your eyes closed,” he spoke softer. She hoped she was getting to him, even if it was only a little bit. It seemed only fair. “Tilt your head back, just a bit. Part your lips. Slightly.”
Following his direction was effortless. The muse in her pictured how she looked and was pleased.
“That’s it.” His voice was rougher. He was definitely bothered by her. The side of her that was plain Meagan Bishop smiled. “Keep your eyes closed and move slowly.”
Freed by his words, she moved slowly and seductively. The muse became an enchantress. Luke didn’t speak, but she heard the faint clicks of his camera and his footsteps as he moved around her. For a few moments, it was as if they moved in unison as one: her, Luke, and his camera.
It was one of the most sensual things she’d ever experienced and she wasn’t going to examine it or try to figure it out. She freed herself of any inhibitions and just let her body move along with the feeling, wishing whatever magic they created could last forever.
But, of course, it couldn’t and much too soon, she heard Luke’s heavy sigh. “That’s enough for today.”
Was it her imagination or did he sound as if he didn’t want it to end either?
As if she could somehow delay the inevitable, she took her time opening her eyes. She scanned the room for Luke, desperate to know if he felt something, too, or if it was only in her mind. But when she found him, his back was to her.
She wondered if he was hiding.
“Should I get dressed?” she asked, surprised at how husky her voice sounded.
“Yes, that’s fine.”
She waited for several long seconds to see if he’d turn around so she could find some sort of hint in his expression about how he felt. But he never did and she decided to leave before the quiet moment turned awkward.
Once she’d changed back into her clothes and hung up the beautiful gown, she slowly made her way into the hallway. He must have heard her, because he called, “I’m in the kitchen.”
Following the sound of his voice, she met him in the house’s expansive kitchen. Luke stood, looking out the back window, turning only when she entered the room. He nodded at the table where two water bottles sat.
“I got you some water,” he said. His expression was veiled and she couldn’t help it—it pissed her off.
“Do you typically provide after
care for your photography sessions?”
It was the wrong thing to say; she knew it as soon as the words came out of her mouth. He moved to stand in front of her.
Hell, she’d forgotten how tall he was.
“I thought you might be thirsty,” he said. “It has nothing to do with aftercare. If it were aftercare, you would be in my arms, both of us basking in the joint pleasure we’d experienced. I’d be stroking your hair, telling you how much you pleased me and turned me on. I might even kiss you. Run my lips across your shoulders, taste your skin, enjoy the hint of salt that remained.” He picked up a bottle of water and gave it to her. “This is merely water.
