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She’s got a vintage black lace bra on. There’s a pointed feature to the cups that is unlike anything I’ve ever seen, and there’s virtually no middle to the bra—just two lace cups and thin straps. Her tits are pushed up and high, practically spilling out of the bra. I can’t help but let my eyes roam over her perfect, flawless skin. I can’t deny how fucking sexy she looks right now, not even if I wanted to.
The wardrobe stylist has paired the barely there bra with black lace panties, a retro garter belt, and sheer thigh highs. They may not know it yet, but putting Declan on the cover wearing this outfit is about to make them a goddamn killing. There’s no doubt in my mind.
My chest tightens the minute her eyes find mine. She stands in front of a black schoolhouse chair as the loafer dude hands over her bass. Her big, dark brown doe eyes latch on to mine, almost as if she’s pleading with me to tell her everything will be fine. She hates shit like this; I can feel it. Outwardly, she’s one of the most confident women I’ve ever met, but inside, I know she’s struggling.
Declan shifts on her feet. Her tall black high heels look crazy uncomfortable, and I hope, for her sake, she gets to sit for most of this shoot. Our stare breaks when loafer dude fixes how she’s holding the bass. He says something else, and Declan sits on the chair. Someone from hair and makeup fluffs her thick, wavy black hair, styled to perfection, as Declan is clearly instructed to spread her legs wide and set the bass between them.
Fuck.
“Hey, thanks for coming. She seems calmer when you’re around.” Isla comes up to me and squeezes my shoulder. “Look at how hot my best friend looks.”
I can’t even form words. I just… there’s no way to speak about the way Declan looks right now. Of course, she’s always gorgeous. I don’t remember a time when she wasn’t. Even our freshman year of high school when most of the other girls were freaking out over pimples, Declan was just… beautiful.
I shake my head, turning to Isla. “She looks incredible.” It’s all I can manage. Today sure as shit is not the time to let old feelings resurface, not with her looking like a fucking vintage vixen. “How did they pull this off in such a short amount of time?” I ask, not taking my eyes off Declan as someone hands her a pair of black-framed glasses. She slips them on, sets her bass upright between her legs, and grips it by the neck.
And then she’s sucking her bottom lip into her mouth, biting down gently. My dick throbs in my pants, and I immediately shut myself down. I need to stop thinking about her like this.
But it’s not like I’m even trying to. I’m not telling my dick to get hard right now. She’s doing it. All by herself. And she doesn’t even know it.
Isla says something about this set not being what the team originally had in mind for Declan, but they all just rolled with it. I think they made the right choice to roll with it because I can barely see straight. I’m not sure how any man in this room is holding it together.
I look around, the thought immediately sparking a hint of jealousy in my veins.
What the hell is wrong with me?
The photographer calls for a break, and Isla and I take that as our cue to go check in on Dec.
“God, I’m still pissed about earlier,” the photographer whines as he scrolls through the photos on his camera. “I had this bed imported, for the love of god.”
I can only imagine what he was planning on this bed for whatever shoot he was originally planning on for today.
“We can totally still do it,” a woman to loafers left says, her eyes lighting up. “We just need a sexy model to stand in.”
Loafers looks around, and before I even realize what’s happening, he’s in front of me, peering up at me. I’m six foot three, and this guy can’t be more than five feet.
“You.” Loafers smiles. “Who are you?”
Declan interjects, and it’s the first time I’ve heard her speak. “That’s my friend Spence. He works for Rebellion Records too.”
Loafers looks me up and down, clearly sizing me up. “You are a fine-ass piece of man meat, you little dumpling,” he says, and it’s the first time I actually take him in. I can practically see my reflection in his bald head. He’s probably in his mid-forties, and judging by the way he’s eye-fucking me right now, is very much into men.
“I’m sorry,” I say, looking around the room. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I’m not a model.”
“You are today, honey. Strip down.”
Five minutes later, I’m wearing too tight black jeans and nothing else. I don’t know how I get myself into this shit.
Declan rolls her eyes as I walk up to her.
“I’m sorry,” she says, tilting her head back to look up at me. “If I would have known you’d be roped into this, I wouldn’t have asked you to come. The male model they hired for the bedroom part of the shoot is a no-show.”
Well, he’s a fucking idiot. No man in their right mind would miss out on seeing Declan this way.
I make a show out of smiling at her, trying to ease her worry. “It’s all good, Dec. I can’t help it if I’m mistaken for a model.”
I wink at her, and she playfully swats me as the photographer tells us to get into bed together.
That escalated quickly.
