4. Drew
Chapter Four
DREW
“It’s Just Kate and Just Drew, all right? There’s no need to be nervous anymore,” I say gently, wanting to soothe all of her discomfort.
“Yeah, sure there isn’t.” She rolls her eyes.
What will it be like to watch those gorgeous green eyes roll back as I touch her the way she wants to be touched? I shift my hips. If only I could adjust myself without grabbing my slightly throbbing cock. I’ve got to get it together. This is a job. “Why don’t you lie down on your stomach? Lean up on your elbows.”
“If you can’t see the lingerie, it kind of defeats the purpose,” she says in a much bolder tone, calling the shots. But she’s not the boss here. I am.
“Oh, so you want me to see your lingerie now?” I toy with the words, this time getting a little smile out of her.
“You know what I mean.”
I position the camera. “Yes, I do. But it’s not for the magazine. It’s just to help you feel less . . . exposed.”
She shrugs, then lifts up on her hands and knees, crawling to the middle of the bed. Fuck me . Kate is hot. “I think we’re past being exposed,” she says, lowering herself down on the bed with her feet in the air behind her.
I bite my lip and snap a photo. “So, Kate, I have to admit, when I met you the other night, I did not peg you for a lingerie designer.” Unfortunately, I didn’t peg her at all.
“Oh, yeah? Well, I didn’t peg you for a photographer.” Her shoulders ease up, and I can tell she’s getting a little cozier.
“I bet you never thought you’d see me again, huh?” I ask.
Kate looks away shamefully. “Honestly, no.”
I examine her luscious curves in the lens. “Yeah, me neither. I was just as surprised when I walked in on you half-naked today.”
She flashes a wry glance. “I’m sure that was vengefully satisfying for you.”
“Why? Because you left me with wet pants and a broken promise?” I ask, and her face turns a slight shade pinker. “I don’t know about vengefully satisfying, but it did ease my pain a little.”
She tosses her long, curled locks over her shoulder. “I’m sure you had no trouble finding another woman to ease your pain.”
I chuckle. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means that we knew each other for twenty minutes when you asked me to go upstairs with you. You’re obviously not shy.” She’s right about that. “I bet you had another girl in that room another twenty minutes later.”
What she doesn’t realize is I wasn’t in the mood for another woman. I’d seen them all before anyway. Hooked up with a handful even. I knew exactly what I’d be in for, and for some reason, the craving for Kate spoiled my appetite for the rest.
“Are you calling me a womanizer?” I ask, playfully, knowing she is. I round the bed, snapping a photo of her thighs, plump booty, and the silk bow at the top of her thong. If this wasn’t a photo shoot, I could tug on that bow and watch the fabric unravel, revealing more of her. “Look back this way.”
Kate glances over her shoulder, batting her long dark lashes. “I guess I am.”
“You know, deep down, I knew you were never coming back.”
“How?”
“You’re not that kind of girl.” The smooth beats play overhead, filling that tingly space between us. I circle around and get shots from every angle.
“You don’t know what kind of girl I am. And I was going to come back.”
I look at her twisted expression over my camera. “Then why didn’t you?”
“My best friend needed my help at that moment, so I helped her.” Her voice is sweet and honest, and now I know I’m right about her.
I kneel down, snapping a picture of her face. “Beautiful,” I say. “You ready to change positions?”
She blushes. “Okay.”
With a healthy trust account and good genes, women often throw themselves at me with fierce aggression. But Kate’s cute, coy glances are surprisingly more fun. Not to brag, but earning the attention of a beautiful woman is pretty easy for me.
Except Kate isn’t like other women. If I want her, I know she’ll make me work for it. And I never shy away from a challenge. At the same time, I know I may have met my match because she’s too good for me.
“Why don’t you stand up and grab onto the bedpost?”
She rises slowly and climbs off the bed, dragging her stilettos across the floor like she’s strutting up to a pole. Watching her slender fingers wrap around the tall bedpost, I want nothing more than for her to put her hands around my . . . bedpost. “How’s this?”
“Good,” I say, hoping she can’t see my flushed cheeks behind the camera. My temperature rises to a fever pitch. I set my camera down on a table and slide off my leather jacket, briskly rubbing my bicep where my wolf tattoo resides. Attempting to sidetrack my mind with thoughts of polo matches, I take in a few deep breaths,
“You okay?” she asks.
I clear my throat and grab the camera. “Fine.” The top of her lace stocking is folded down just enough to be distracting. “Wait.” I approach her, balancing my camera in one hand.
“What?” Kate steps back against the bed, still gripping the bedpost.
I get down on one knee. My fingertip hovers over the edge of her knee and then trails up to the top of her stocking.
“What are you doing?” Her sun-kissed thigh tenses.
I glance up, watching her chest rise and fall. A digit slips just barely inside her hosiery threshold. “There,” I say, fixing the lace. “Perfect.” My gaze draws up, her nearly see-through thong centimeters from my face. What if I were to take her into my mouth right now and drink up every drop of her? What would the good girl do then?
“Drew?” she says. A sure sign I’ve lingered too long.
I tilt my chin, admiring her silky skin from this angle. “One more thing.” I rise up, and my fingertips graze her soft thigh for a brief moment.
Standing tall next to her, I watch her pouty, pink lip part as my hand barely touches her shoulder. Kate’s eyes meet mine, and she takes in a slow, airy breath, heat radiating from her entire body. I flash her my hungry-eyed gaze and bite my lower lip, making a slight sucking noise. Wedging my finger beneath her thin bra strap, I pull it over the edge of her shoulder and let go, watching it dangle against her arm. “Now, it’s perfect.”
I look into her eyes once more, then step away. When I turn back, she’s a little breathless but absolutely stunning. Photo after photo, the shutter clicks. There are no words between us. Kate leans into the post, tilting her head, and exposing her neck. Through the lens, I can see something’s changed. She gazes at me with an intense fire in her eyes.
I want to drop my camera to the floor, strip off my clothes, and play with her body like it’s my own amusement park—sliding my tongue up and over, in and out. After all, we’re alone with a bed. But I can’t. This is business, not pleasure.
The sunlight shifts, dimming the glow in the room, and I snap the final shot. “That’s a wrap.” I immediately begin dismantling my camera.
“Really, that’s it? I feel like we were just getting started.” Kate blinks her eyes like she’s awakening from a trance.
“Did you want something more?” I ask, meeting her gaze.
“I . . . I just thought it would last longer.”
If only I could show her how long I can really last. But it’s over. At least for now. “Blame the light.” I nod toward the window.
She looks behind her at the sunny stream coming into the studio. “Oh, right.”
I slide back into my jacket, slinging my bag over my shoulder, and grab Kate’s satin robe hanging over the armrest of a nearby chair. It’s soft in my hands but not as soft as I imagine she is.
“Here,” I say, holding it open. She slips her arms inside the sleeves, and I lay the fabric gently on her shoulders. What a shame, covering her up like that.
“Thanks,” she says, sweeping her long, brown hair to the side. The robe’s still open, and she doesn’t seem to be in a hurry to close the curtain. Is she inviting me in?
“You’re welcome.” I take one last look at her stunning curves, those pink lips, and luminous eyes. “See you around, Kate,” I say in the base of my throat, then turn to leave.
Goodbye, my American beauty. I have a feeling we’ll meet again soon.