There. Something flares in his eyes as the camera starts clicking away, a glimpse of the same fire I saw yesterday in the mirror before he turned and left me partially undressed.
“Foreheads together,” Dylan instructs.
Slowly, I lean forward. Aiden’s nostrils flare as his eyes darken. My glance drops to his lips. I hate that a fake kiss was the best one of my life. Hate that I can remember every second: the pressure of his hands on my face, the possessive press of his mouth on mine. That moment when he seemed to come undone and deepened the kiss until I had to cling to him to stay standing.
Our foreheads touch and my lips part on a sigh. Even though this is just for a show, I feel that connection that pulsed between us at the gala reignite, strengthen.
If him just touching my face and laying his head against mine makes me feel this way, if his kiss gave me more pleasure than any other intimate encounter, what would actually making love be like?
Click, click.
I inhale and pull back. Aiden’s hand tightens on my jaw.
“Steady, Seraphina,” he murmurs under his breath.
“Problem?”
I turn to Dylan and give her an apologetic smile. “Sorry. It’s just…taking some getting used to.”
She waves a hand. “We got the shot anyway. Let’s try one by the glass wall.”
I stand, avoiding Aiden’s gaze as we walk over to the incredible view of Central Park laid out below. Taxis look like bright yellow ants as they crawl along 59th Street.
“Okay, Seraphina, face the park. And then Aiden, right behind her and arms around her waist.”
I can’t help it; I tense this time as the full length of his body presses against my back, as his arms circle around my waist. Strong arms that pull me flush against him. I want to sink into him as much as I want to push him away. The day is clear enough I can see the George Washington Bridge. I focus on the bridge’s steel towers as I force myself to relax.
“Did I ever tell you about the time I picked my first pocket?”
Aiden’s voice whispers in my ear. A quake travels through me as he gently grabs one of my hands and guides it from the railing to settle over his.
“No.”
“I was so excited I held up the wallet for Dominic and Cassian to see. When I turned back around, the man was standing over me with his arms crossed and yanked it out of my hands.”
The image teases a smile to my lips. But it also stirs a sadness that he ever had to live his life that. Sadness and curiosity. I know next to nothing about Aiden’s life on the streets, or his life before.
Click.
“That must have been hard,” I murmur as Liam moves next to us and gets a close-up.
“Less than ideal. But there were good moments.” I want to ask more questions. But not in front of Dylan or Liam. I also don’t know if I’ll receive an answer if I do ask. Just like the kiss, I know he’s only sharing to help me relax, so I can slip deeper into my role.
“Seraphina, lay your other hand on top of his. Good,” Dylan praises as I follow her instructions. “Now both of you look out over the park.”
The camera clicks as I stare out over the leafy green treetops, the skyscrapers circling the lake and trails. I breathe in, then out, slowly relaxing back into Aiden. His arms tighten around me. Even through the material of my dress, I can still feel the strength in his arms, the heat of his body.
It’s not just that I’ve barely been touched by a man in the last four years, although that certainly plays a role. But the real reason is the man currently holding me in his arms. For years I’ve harbored my crush, indulged in the occasional daydream where he’d smile—really smile—at me before asking me out for a drink. That’s as far as I’d allow my dreams to go. Anything more felt disrespectful and dangerous. Why concoct a fantasy that would never come true?
Liam speaks up. “Got it. Let’s have you two head inside and face each other on the other side of the glass.” He grins. “Lovey-dovey.”
“Like you’re whispering lovers’ secrets,” Dylan adds, her voice lingering on the last word in a way I can only describe as sinister.
The cool air of the penthouse sends a shiver through me as I take up my spot on the other side of the glass and face Aiden.
“He’s taking our photo,” Aiden murmurs. “Not getting ready to bludgeon us with his camera.”
I sigh. “I’m sorry. This is just so strange. You’re my boss and I—”
