Chapter 5 – ryan #2
“Just hang there for a sec while I fix the lighting,” I tell her. After I sync up my phone with the speakers, I put on Gigi Perez. Immediately, the tension in Pippa’s shoulders disappears.
“I didn’t know you liked this album.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty good.” And I know for a fact that Pippa’s a big fan.
I let the music help her unwind while I fiddle with the ring light.
Once it’s lighting her face well, I grab the remote that controls the LED lights around the walls.
I press a few buttons, and suddenly all the light not directed at Pippa’s face is as red as her lipstick.
“What is this, your fuck lighting?” she asks.
“No, it’s my vampire movie marathon lighting. This is my under-the-sea lighting.”
I press another button and the lights turn blue instead. Pippa laughs—a real, unguarded laugh, and I wish I’d been aiming the camera at her then, because the wide smile lights up her whole face.
“I want you to lie back on the sofa, with your legs draped over the arm,” I say.
She cocks her head. “But I would never sit like that.”
“That doesn’t matter. It’s about a vibe.”
“A vibe like I never learned how to sit on a sofa?”
“Yes, exactly. Men love dumb women. Show them how moronic you can be.”
She huffs out a breath, but follows instructions.
I resist the urge to call her a good girl and make steam really come out of her ears.
Pulling out my phone, I snap a few sample pictures, trying different angles.
All the photos look staged and awkward, with Pippa’s legs held stiffly at a 90-degree angle, her hands still clenched in her lap for some fucking reason.
“Try moving your hands,” I suggest.
She puts one on her knee and dangles the other arm off the edge of the sofa. It manages to make her look both rigid and like she’s lost control of her limbs.
“Not like that. More relaxed.”
Rolling her eyes, she puts her hands behind her head, spreading out her elbows like she’s Ferris fucking Buehler.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” I grumble. Shoving my phone in my pocket, I step over and grab her wrists. She gasps, clenching her fists and trying to get out of my grasp.
“What the hell are you doing?”
“Helping you.” I pull one of her hands to her hip, the other next to her face. I literally unpeel her fingers until they look soft, open, and natural. “There you go. Much better.”
Pippa blinks up at me, and I’m suddenly all too aware that I’m hovering over her, our faces closer than they’ve been in a long fucking time. Her lips are slightly parted, her hazel eyes wide. She takes a shuddering breath, and her breasts press up against her sweater’s low neckline.
Shit. She looks hot as fuck, and with her soft hands in mine, I can’t help but notice it.
Gulping, I turn my gaze toward her legs. Now I’m thanking god that she wore tights, because if I feel her bare skin while I press her knees apart, I might be tempted to do something fucking stupid. Like kneel between them.
Taking one of her calves, I arrange her legs so one is crossed over the other. From where my camera is set up, I’ll be able to catch a glimpse of the red soles of her shoes.
“Good,” I say, the word feeling clumsy in my mouth. “Don’t move.”
I take a few steps back and pull up the camera on my phone. I can see her slender neck shift as she swallows. “I look okay?” she says quietly.
“Yeah. You look good, Pippa.”
A pink flush spreads under her cheeks as she blinks at me. “Okay. Good.”
She holds the pose perfectly as I snap a few photos, crouching or shifting to the side to try different angles. The more photos I take, the more amused Pippa looks.
“Wow. You’re really a pro at this, huh?” There’s a natural-looking slight smile on her face in the next photo.
“Anything worth doing is worth doing well,” I say, shrugging.
“You probably practice with lighting and angles all the time to make your cock look bigger.”
There’s not as much venom in the joke as there usually would be, so I quirk a brow at her. “Wanna bet?”
“Ew, no!” She covers her eyes with her hands. “Keep it to yourself.”
She’s broken the pose, but I take another photo anyway. She’s kind of cute when she’s joking around—annoyingly cute, but cute.
“I think we got it.” I move behind the couch while Pippa pushes up to sit. Leaning over, I show her the results of the photo shoot.
“Wow.” She flicks through a few pictures. “These are actually decent.”
“Did you expect any less from me?”
She stops on a photo, one where her lips are parted slightly and her eyes look wide and bright. “I think that’s the one. I’ll put it at the top of the profile.”
Right. I kind of forgot that the whole reason we were taking these photos was to show them to other guys. Hundreds of guys—maybe thousands—would see Pippa lying out on the couch, her hair loose around her soft face.
The face I coaxed her to make.
The idea doesn’t exactly appeal to me, but I shake it off. If Pippa actually finds a guy to date, she’ll start spending time over at his place. That means she’ll be out of my hair way more.
“Texting it to you now,” I tell her. “Just put the new pics on your profile, and you’re ready.”
Pippa bites her lower lip. “I guess. I don’t know. The bikini, plus this photo…maybe it’s a little much.”
I roll my eyes. Everything is a “little much” for Pippa.
She takes her work and everything in life so seriously that she never actually does anything fun.
Even after I directed a whole goddamn photo shoot for her, she’s ready to throw all my hard work in the trash and stick with her boring, sexless little profile.
Except…
Pippa hates fun, but she loves winning. There’s one surefire way to make sure all this work didn’t go to waste.
“Wanna put some money on it?”
She crosses her arms. “What do you mean?”
“Put up my pics, then don’t change your profile for twenty-four hours. That’s it. We’ve got our parents’ Holiday Soiree thing tomorrow night. By the end of the party, you’re going to have over two-hundred guys on that app begging for the chance to go out with you.”
“And if I don’t?” She arches a brow, giving me a challenging look.
“I’ll give you $200. A dollar for each dude.”
She snorts. “Fat chance. I’m placing a bet where if I win, it proves I’m not attractive enough to get guys to swipe right. For that kind of dignity loss, I’d need way more money.”
“Two thousand bucks, then.”
“Still too low. Hey, how much did you win at your poker tournament last night?”
“$75,000.”
Her eyes go so wide, I can see white all around her irises. Oh, yeah. She’s impressed, even if she hates herself for it. I puff up my chest, preening a little.
“Maybe if you gave me your winnings, I’d consider it.” She laughs, because she doesn’t think I’d ever actually do it.
So naive. She’s seriously underestimating how much I love winning.
“Fine. You win, you get 75 thou. But if I win, you have to leave your dating profile like that until the new year.”
She tilts her head like a confused puppy. “That’s it? That’s all you want for winning?”
I shrug. “I can make back my money playing online poker for a few days. But the feeling of beating you? Priceless.”
“Fine.” She snatches her phone back out of my hand. I don’t even make her fight me for it. “I’ll keep the profile for a day. I look forward to you writing me a check.”
With that, she scoops Waffle up in her arms and stomps back to her bedroom. I flop down on the couch, grabbing a Playstation controller. If Pippa’s sulking all night, that means I get the living room all to myself. I can play Grand Theft Auto until the sun comes up if I feel like it.
It’s only a little annoying that now, the couch smells like Pippa’s cherry perfume.