He pulled on his pants and I grabbed some shorts and a T-shirt from my room. When I came back out, Ivan handed me a cup of coffee and grabbed his cup of tea. I smiled as we settled on the sofa, facing each other, my legs hooked over his. He tugged the coffee table closer so we could reach from this position. Then he wrapped his arms around me and linked his fingers behind my back.
“Okay. Just…talk,” he said.
“Um. Okay.” I settled my fingers against the top of his stomach. The lump in my throat was the only thing stopping bile coming up—I knew it. “Well, I went to my parents’ house yesterday. I needed to get out of the city to think. Of course, my batshit crazy nana was there, so I got more of an ass-kicking than I did thinking. But anyway, she made me realize that you have to face your fears if you’re ever going to get over them. So. Here I am. Fear-facing.”
Ivan’s thumbs stroke my back gently, a
My lips formed a wide grin. “Okay. I think my need for information is sated. For now.” “Good. And now I guess we have to get to my gritty stuff, right?” I nodded. “I fessed up. Now it’s your turn.” “Okay.” He grabbed his mug of tea and drunk half of it before setting it back on the table. He settled his arms around me again, linking his fingers on my back, and looked up. “Let’s see… When we were little, Mish and Aaron were constantly following our parents around. They wanted to know every last bit of the business. My dad tried for about a year to get me interested, but I just didn’t care. I didn’t have the right head for it. “Then we got older, and while they started internships and work experiences, I started sleeping with girls. Yeah. I was that knobhead.” He laughed. “I studied photography at A-level in college just to make up the number of courses I needed to take and fell in love with it. It was so calm and quiet compared to my rowdy, devil-may-c
My panties aren’t wet.They should be. While I’m sitting across the table from Mr. Franklin Banes, my ex-boss, my panties should be dripping. And they’re not.
He shoots me a dirty look and hands me a glass of wine. I take it with an eye roll.“So tell me again why Mr. Dreamboat is so bad.”
“Crap,” I mutter, reaching for my shrilly ringing cell. “Hello?” I groan into the receiver without looking at the caller ID. “Brenda.” My agent’s voice filters down the speaker. “I have some bad news.”
“Sara. Underwear. What’s my color scheme?”I sigh. Boy. Note to self: don’t ever be late when Nina is doing your makeup. She goes all stylist-zilla.
Well, this is awkward.And I don’t mean nervous-giggle awkward. I mean turn-around-and-run-for-your-fvcking-life awkward.
I cough and he looks up. He grins, unapologetic, and a dimple appears on his cheek. “The shoot?” I question, drawing on every bit of strength I have inside me to deal with this. “Are you ready to start?” Nope. I’m ready to click my heels and see if I’ll magic the hell out of here. “Yes. Where do you want me?” Wrong question. Wrong question. Something flickers in his eyes—lust. “On the bed.” Wrong answer. Wrong answer. I walk across the room and climb onto the bed. His eyes follow me the whole time, and I see him slowly raise the camera to his eye out of the corner of mine.
It’s a light touch, one I should barely feel but one I feel prickling all over my skin. The kiss is slow and sweet, and my hand betrays me by finding his shirt and fisting the material.“Yep, this is very unprofessional.”