Chapter 7 #2
John jumps in before either of us can say anything.
“So Landon, Rori, we’re going to have a similar vibe to the first round of shots, but no props.
The initial pose I want is your palms against each other’s again—this time both palms so it’s like you’re each pushing off each other.
” He gently positions us in place and connects our hands as he requested.
Landon’s hands are warm and soft. Without the racquet in one hand, I’m even more sensitive to the sensation of his skin against mine. There’s nothing else to center my attention on other than his touch.
Except then John makes it even worse.
“Eye contact, you two. Fierce competitors, pushing each other to succeed. And let’s go with the music too, team.”
The music comes on, and I feel like I’m in a vacuum of sensation except for Landon.
Landon’s eyes. Landon’s hands. Landon’s skin. Landon’s muscles. Landon’s male scent. Landon’s gentle breathing sounds.
Hormones, one set to love.
“Fiercer, Rori!” orders John.
In theory, I should visualize an opponent to nail the facial expression John wants.
Well, it’s not going to be possible to imagine Landon as Hanna or any other of my normal competitors, so I trick my mind in a different way.
I pretend that I’m going to play tennis with Landon himself. As I picture getting ready on court for the first point, my innate competitive juices start to flow. In my mind, I absolutely want to beat this sexy beast of a man, if he’s ever game to challenge me in tennis.
That mental imagery seems to work because John shouts out, “Perfect, keep that up,” and takes fifteen minutes more worth of pictures from different angles.
At that point, John comes closer to us, while the music is turned down by one of his assistants.
“Okay, I do want to do one more pose together that takes a different approach, though with similar themes. Landon, stand here, and then Rori, I want you to back up, flush against his front.”
For the first time in our careful public interactions today, Landon and I spontaneously look at each other, both with undeniable looks of surprise on our faces. I assume he is thinking the same thing I am. His front and my back are about to be separated only by tiny pieces of spandex.
“And then, Rori, hold your arms out wide, palms up. Landon, I want you to rest your arms out palm down on hers, pressing down while she presses up. No eye contact to start, just stare fiercely at the camera.”
I pause for a split second and then walk up to Landon. Once I’m close enough to rest against him, I turn so my back is facing his front and softly push flush against him.
I hear him involuntarily make a soft gasp. In turn, I’m swallowing my own catch of air, as I feel all of his hard muscles against my shoulders and mid-back and then…something else…against my lower back and the top of my butt.
“Let’s get the arms in place, you two,” John says. I stick mine out wide, palms up, and Landon stretches his arms out, resting his palms on top of mine.
“Wonderful, competition faces!” And the camera starts to click.
My mind has nowhere to go except to the feel of this man behind me.
On top of everything else, he is invitingly warm, and I want to sink into him.
His hands touching mine, together with all this other contact, are inspiring tingles in my lower stomach.
Even more noticeable, the first feeling of true physical hunger since our night together rises up through my body.
Game, second set, match—hormones.
You still would take advantage of another night with him, don’t lie to yourself, a voice inside my head acknowledges.
John snaps more shots, and after a couple of minutes, gives new instructions.
“Next—I want you to stay in that position but now make eye contact. Rori, you look up and Landon, you look down, while keeping your bodies and arms in this pose.”
In what feels like slow motion, I lift my head up while still pressing against his body. When I move my eyes in place to meet his, his gaze is already on me.
The expression in his eyes probably looks like “game time” mode to the photography crew. But I see something different in the intensity of it. Longing? Need?
Oh my god, I’m starting to get truly turned on.
A beat after our eyes meet, I feel another change, showing he is fighting the same thing. He starts getting undeniably harder behind my lower back. Now it’s time for me to let out a small gasp. I swallow it again and try to relax so he doesn’t feel self-conscious.
Maybe he isn’t embarrassed, but I don’t want to make it worse if he is. I’ve heard that the man getting noticeably turned on is normal for scantily clad photo shoots, and I try to think of it as a compliment.
“Sorry,” he whispers in a sheepish tone with a half-grin. It’s the first time we’ve spoken during the actual photo shoot. He snaps back into his game face, while I give a small smile to show that I heard him and then do the same.
The moment breaks the ice a bit. I try to relax into the role that I’m supposed to be playing instead of focusing on Landon’s overwhelming presence and touch.
Five minutes later, John jumps in. “That’s it for this shot. Wow, so much to work with today, thank you both! You may not know this, but you have tremendous chemistry together in front of the camera!”
Landon chuckles and says, “Why doesn’t that surprise me?” under his breath.
“So Landon, you’re dismissed for the day, and Rori, we’ll do one last session with you solo this afternoon.”
Landon pauses and turns to me. “Oh, so will I see you tomorrow here? Everything was so last minute that I didn’t get the exact details on the schedule.”
“No, just you tomorrow,” John answers him instead of waiting for me.
“Rori flies out early tomorrow! For a couple of tournaments in Texas and Mexico,” Nina adds.
Landon looks unsure of what to do with this information, and I’m just as uncertain of what I want him to do.
“Well, I—it was nice to see you again. I’m sure it won’t be too long before we bump into each other at an industry event,” Landon says, his voice becoming more formal as he finishes his sentence.
After one last look at him, I obey the gentle push of the photo assistant’s hand behind my back, as she guides me to my dressing room to get ready for the solo shoot.
Entering the room, I take my phone out right away—plenty of new messages, but even after a few minutes, nothing from him, which sends a tinge of disappointment through me briefly.
Rori, I tell myself inside my head. We do not wait around hoping for a guy to message us.
“Hmmm,” I say out loud, realizing that is exactly what I just did.
“Did something happen?” Clara asks as she pulls my hair out of the ponytail.
“No, nothing worth noting,” I reply. I grab a water and set my phone to the side.
“I didn’t realize he was so tall,” Clara observes in a way that feels like she is making conversation to fill the silence.
“Football players,” one of the wardrobe assistants says in response. “They are always taller than you expect!”
She turns to me and says, “You looked incredible together. Did you know him before this?”
“Not really,” I lie.
As if on cue, my phone dings and I pick it back up to read the message.
NEW YEARS: Will you get dinner with me tonight?
I think my cheeks go bright red. Not what I was expecting.
I told him that I would answer his texts now, so I need to decide what I want to do.