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“Shit,” Declan murmurs, turning to Isla and then looking at me.
Before I can even reply, loafers is yanking me by the arm to the bed, following suit with Declan.
“Hotcakes, you lie on your back. Declan, you’ll be straddling hotcakes.”
I groan inwardly, thinking how this is very much not a good idea. Not with the way Declan looks right now. Not with the years of pent-up sexual frustration I’ve been trying to ignore.
I expect Declan to protest, to tell this guy that there is no way in hell she’s getting on top of me, but she doesn’t. Instead, she surprises me. She crawls onto the bed and does exactly as she’s told. Her legs are on either side of me, her pussy resting almost directly on top of my dick.
I suck in a jagged breath, but instead of relief, my chest aches. It feels more like I’m breathing in shards of glass than fucking oxygen.
I look up at Declan, searching her eyes for a sign of how she’s feeling, but she’s not looking at me, she’s looking at the photographer with her gorgeous fuck-me eyes.
The photographer tells Declan to lean over me, and she does. He tells her to put one hand in my hair and one palm on my naked chest, and she does. The slight tremble in her hands is undeniable, and part of me is glad she’s clearly feeling as nervous as I am. I just hope she can’t feel my heart skipping beats beneath my palm.
“Hotcakes, bring one hand up and caress her cheek as slowly as possible. The two of you need to be staring at each other like you’re the only two people left in the universe and the only thing you can think about is repopulating the whole damn world.”
A smile spreads on Declan’s face, and she quickly tames it, biting down on her bottom lip in the sexiest way.
“I’m sorry you got thrown into this, Spence,” she whispers, and I can’t help when my stare falls down to her perfectly pouty pink lips. Lips that are screaming for me to claim them.
“Declan, move closer. I want you inches from hotcakes’s lips.”
Fuck.
She does as she’s told. She bends, her tits brushing up against my chest and her lips so close to mine I can feel the warmth radiating off her body. Someone rushes over to us and moves Declan’s hair. Her dark locks cascade down and all around us. I breathe her in and get lost in the floral scent mixing with something sweet in her shampoo.
“This is utter gold!” Loafers shouts, clicking away with his camera. I’d do it differently if I were behind the lens, but right now, I cannot imagine being anywhere other than right here. “Now kiss him, honey!” Loafers gets closer and switches up his angle to get the best shot. “Kiss him, honey!”
And my mind instantly races.
She can’t kiss me.
We cannot kiss.
Declan Rothschild is untouchable. She’s off-limits.
Even if this is just for a fucking magazine article.
Before I can continue talking my brain into why Declan and I are definitely not about to kiss, Declan’s mouth crashes onto mine, and the only thing I’m thinking is how insanely delicious she tastes.
Our tongues meet and my universe tilts, her soft lips enveloping mine and taking control. Loafers is saying something in the background, and I can see the flash of his camera lighting up behind my closed eyelids. I don’t give a shit what he’s saying because, suddenly, my hands are reaching up and into her hair, I’m pulling her into me harder, and the world outside of the two of us doesn’t exist.
She moans against my mouth, and I fight my dick from swelling in my pants, barely holding on by a thread because this version of Declan is one I thought I’d never get.
And one I’m definitely going to pay for later.
***
16
***
DECLAN
I change back into the clothes I wore to the set and say goodbye to the crew who worked on today’s shoot after tying up loose ends with the magazine. I find Isla talking to Spence by my car.
My cheeks are permanently stained scarlet, I’m sure. I touch my palm to one and drop my hand as the heat radiates through my skin.
