The camera clicked again and again. Connor’s breath brushed against my cheek, and for one fleeting second, I had this terrifying, mortifying, brain-short-circuiting thought that if I turned my head just a little… our noses would touch.
And worse than that? That I could do it. That all of those hormones bottled up since the last time I was in his close proximity have just exploded like a rainbow of colors inside me. All the arguments we had in class, all the nights we sat across from each other in the library, pretending not to notice the other breathing, suddenly none of it felt innocent anymore. And then I remembered who I was. Whohewas. My old college rival turnedcaptain of our shared stadium. None of this would look good if I accidentally kissed him, not that I ever would. It’d cause a PR nightmare in front of a dozen Buzz executives before seven a.m. No, I wasn’t going to do that at all.
So I cleared my throat, stepped slightly back, and smiled so hard it made my insides cringe. That couldn’t have looked natural.
The photographer beamed. “Yes! That’s it! That is chemistry! That is passion! That is branding!”
“I need a minute,” I said under my breath.
Connor didn’t move. “Too much for you, sunshine?” he asked, all faux innocence.
I glared at him. “One more smirk, and I’ll staple your tongue to a Buzz can.”
He laughed then, full and easy, and it shouldn’t have made my stomach feel weird. But it did.
God help me—Iached.
10
Connor
She stalked away, all fire and sass, and I wasn’t ashamed to admit my eyes followed. That ass swayed in the exact opposite direction I wanted it to, and truthfully, since she’d stepped out in that first outfit, I’d had trouble keeping things in check. When I noticed how much she fidgeted, there was no way I was about to let her feel uncomfortable, not when I seemed to be able to do that all by myself.
The image of Teddy in skin-tight matching gym wear was going to remain imprinted for a while.
The photographer was rambling something about lighting adjustments, but I was already moving. “I’ll go check on her,” I muttered to no one in particular.
Rounding the corner, I found her just past the dressing area, one hand braced on the wall, breathing out through her nose, counting backwards from ten.
“Hey,” I said quietly. “You okay?”
Her eyes cut to mine. “Peachy. Just taking a moment before I commit a felony.”
“Just a usual Tuesday for you, then?” I teased, and those blues narrowed fiercely. “But maybe commit it after we finish the shoot? I’ve got places to be later.”
That earned the faintest flicker of a smile before she rolled her eyes and turned away again. “You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”
“Definethis,” I said, leaning a shoulder against the wall beside her. “Because if you mean watching you try not to murder a French man with a camera, then yeah. A bit.”
Her exhale came out like a sigh combined with a laugh, and she was close enough that I’d caught the faint scent of her sweet shampoo again. I became very aware of the little space between us too. “I’d never actually hurt anyone.”
I shouldn’t have looked at her lips as she spoke. I shouldn’t have done a quick instinctive sweep of her body, the line of her throat. The way the tank top scooped around her strong arms, revealing the cut of muscle there. The rise of her chest as she inhaled, the shape of her waist where the fabric pulled in. And then I dragged my eyes up to meet hers so fast because heat shot through me like a bullet.
“Are you telling me all this front isn’t made of steel, sunshine?” I mused, using the nickname I’d given her in college. I’d never given it much thought until now, but it still fit her. She’d huff and roll her eyes, sure, but there was a stubborn brightness she tried hard to hide. I still saw it, though.
I pushed off the wall and nodded toward the set. I had no idea if she’d noticed me checking her out, but suddenly, I needed a bit of air. “Come on. Let’s finish it, then I’ll buy you another cappuccino.”
She eyed me like she didn’t quite believe it, but after a second, she nodded and followed.
As soon as we stepped back under the lights, the photographer nearly wept with joy. “Ah! She returns!Magnifique! Now we do something more… intimate. Stand behind her, close—closer!”
Teddy muttered something about “boundaries,” but she stepped into position anyway. I followed and shifted a fraction closer, hands hovering at her hips until the photographer waved for adjustment. My palms found her waist, fingers curling just enough to steady her. The muscles beneath my thumbs tightened, a quiet jolt shooting through me, but the only thing that registered was how rigid she’d gone.
I suddenly had an idea, one that I knew would probably calm her down, or at the very least, distract her to loosen up a bit…
I leaned in, mouth close enough that the soft edge of her braid grazed my cheek. “You want to know why we fought so much in college?” I murmured, just loud enough for her to hear. Her mouth opened, but the only thing that escaped was a sharp breath that fueled something within me. “Because every time you beat me, you smiled like you knew exactly how much it got under my skin.”
Her body tightened then, almost imperceptibly, and her lips curved. “Maybe because I did.”
