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Her eyes are wide, and her cheeks are flushed, and she looks so much like that first photo I want to shove her to her knees to teach her a lesson about playing with fire.
“Who did you take these for?” I seethe, still stepping forward.
I don’t care who the fuck the man is. I’m going to kill him.
Cassandra continues to back away from me, moving into the living room.
“Hans, what are you—” Her question cuts off when she bumps into the back of her couch.
“This.” I hold up the book. “This is what I’m talking about, little Butterfly. Who did you fucking take these for?”
She drops her eyes to the little black book in my hand, and her brows furrow for a moment before her eyes widen.
Guilty.
“Oh my god!”
Her gasp goes straight to my dick, which has been hard as stone since I first opened this fucking book.
She reaches for it, but I hold it up.
She’s average height, but I’m not, so it’s out of her reach.
“Tell me.” My demand is ridiculous. She doesn’t owe me anything. I have no rightful claim over her.
But I’m past being reasonable. And she’s pushed me here.
“Where did you get that?” Her eyes bounce between me and the book.
“It was delivered to my house.” I step closer, leaving only an inch of space between our bodies. “Now answer the question, Cassandra. Who took these?” Shifting my grip on the cover, I let the book flop open.
CHAPTER13
Cassie
My mouth dropsopen as I take in the image hanging from my neighbor’s large hand.
It’s me, but it’s…
Wow.
The flush crawling up my cheeks deepens.
It’s me, laid out on the prop bed from the photo shoot, with the fluffy comforter bunched up beneath me and my hands above my head, one of my knees bent to the side.
I had fun that day, pretending to be a model. Pretending I was a total sexpot. But I didn’t get to see any of the photos. That’s the deal. Trust the photographer, and she picks the best ones to put in the book.
Andgoddamn, that photographer earned every single dollar I paid her.
Hans shifts his grip, and the page flips, a new, equally provocative image revealing itself.
Then my brain glitches back into reality, and I remember what’s happening.
Hans is holding the book.
He is here.
He’s seen the photos.
