Chapter 10
ten
. . .
Jordana
Inside, Gavin was arranging lighting equipment, his movements graceful. Then I saw the bed.
Oh my God, the bed.
Given the lack of furniture, I’d expected a mattress on the floor. Instead, an enormous four-poster bed rose in front of me, carved from dark wood, with metal rings hanging from the posts and headboard. Dominating the small room.
Tripods surrounded the bed, some with white lighting umbrellas, others with box-shaped lights, all casting a golden glow over the black satin comforter and pillows.
That bed was a centerpiece.
And I was about to serve myself to Gavin on it, like a platter.
“Sweet Jesus,” I said. “Your bed. I mean, it’s perfect, but it’s so…big. And beautiful. And…” I searched for a word that could not possibly also apply to Gavin’s dick. “Ornate.”
He nodded. “Ornate. That’s fair.”
Quickly, I set the contract on a table by the window. “Was this your bed in New York?”
More to the point, had he shared it with his ex-wife?
His brow furrowed. “I used it as a prop bed in my studio. I moved it here because I needed something to sleep on.”
“Good to know.” Shrugging off my robe, I let it fall to the floor in a puddle of sea blue.
Gavin’s lips parted as he stared. Under the heat of his gaze, my skin prickled. I suddenly felt very undressed in my white bikini.
His amber eyes darkened as they traveled over my naked shoulders, the curves of my breasts, the smooth expanse of my belly and the barely hidden triangle between my thighs.
“Is something wrong?”
“I was expecting…more coverage.”
“You said a swimsuit was one of the options.”
“Yeah. But I pictured more of a-a one-piece situation.”
His voice was husky as he stammered. It was fucking adorable, and also confusing. The man was about to take nudes of me. He’d talked dirty to me on the catwalk and made me crawl to him in a diner. Why was my bikini stopping him in his tracks?
“And I didn’t tell you to take that off.” He nodded toward the robe on the floor.
I ran a finger over my collarbone, giving him an innocent look. “I’ll try to listen better, Gavin. I’ll be good for you.”
He inhaled sharply, rubbing his palms on his black sweatpants. “You better be,” he muttered. “Go ahead and take your boots off too.”
I bent over, unzipping each high-heeled boot and easing them down my calves, my feet. I wondered if he was looking at my cleavage. I tugged off my white socks and dropped them in my boots, which I set against the wall, away from the photography equipment.
I was aware of being shorter, more naked, now that I was barefoot. More vulnerable.
Gavin raked a hand through his dark hair, leaving it standing on end. “Any time you need a break, tell me. Ready?”
“Ready.”
He was beautiful, and we were standing so close that my breasts almost brushed his chest. As I gazed at him, I felt like I was falling.
“Get on the bed, Jordana. Kneel in the center with your knees together and your hands crossed on them. Look down at yourself. The way you’re feeling right now — keep it.
” His voice grew soft and hypnotic, lulling me as he had in the diner.
“You’re nervous, and this is new. It’s the beginning of your journey.
You don’t know what’s coming, but you want to find out. ”
Fuck, every word was true.
I knelt in the middle of the black satin comforter. Excitement rippled through me as Gavin picked up his camera.
“Remember, Jordana. Don’t look at me. Turn inward. Explore yourself.”
I stretched my arms above my head and ran my hands over my hair. Tuning into my body, I trailed my fingertips down my cheeks and neck. For so long, I’d tried to numb out. To erase myself.
“Good,” Gavin murmured. “Touch your beautiful body.”
My stomach lurched at his words. A shiver ran through me, and he smiled.
A sharp click sliced the air, followed by a brilliant flash. My muscles tensed. The camera’s light was bright, the sound abrupt. I let my hair fall over my face to shield me. When my fingers outlined circles on my arms, goosebumps followed.
“Gorgeous. Keep doing that.” Gavin was a dark shadow, moving around me.
Crossing my arms, I drew my fingers over my breasts. My nipples hardened when I stroked them through my swimsuit. Another click of the shutter sent a pulse through the taut peaks, making them ache.
I’d expected Gavin to talk me through each pose like he’d done in the diner, but he was silent. I resorted to tracing patterns all over my upper body, swirls and figure eights. My skin buzzed as he circled me, shooting from all angles.
I flipped my hair back, but he evaded my view. The message was clear: forget I’m here.
So I pressed my fingers to my lips like I’d just gotten my first kiss. I could feel it — male lips, Gavin’s lips, making my mouth tingle and my head spin.
If only my real first kiss had been like that.
I was thirteen. The run of Hello, Dolly! had just closed. My father found me on the couch in the living room, crying, because I couldn’t believe it was over. I couldn’t bear to say goodbye.
“Jorie,” he said in his infuriatingly sure way, “theater has taken over your life. This is not normal. See how emotional you’re getting? You’re too young for this obsession. For your own good, it ends now.”
I felt like I was drowning. My mother came in, and he turned to her.
“She needs to focus on her studies. She, at least, can make something of herself. No more of this acting business. Jillian, you understand?”
My mother had nodded silently.
“Mom,” I whispered when my dad took a phone call. “Say something. Help me. I can’t quit.”
She shook her head and looked away. The truth hit me: when it came to a choice between me and my dad, she would always choose him.
I had no one in my corner.
I was alone.
Click.
“Jordana, you with me?” Gavin asked.
Dazed, I nodded, but the memory persisted.
That night, we headed out to dinner at the penthouse of my father’s biggest client.
I didn’t want to go, but I put on a tight black dress and high heels and tried to be charming.
I made everyone laugh by dramatically drinking a glass of wine.
Afterward, the client’s son, older than me, invited me to watch TV in the media room.
My mom was thrilled. Be nice to him, she’d whispered, pressing my hand. Make him happy.
I didn’t remember that boy’s name now, or his age.
I didn’t remember his face. But I remembered thinking that I had nothing left to lose.
That I was desperate to feel alive, like I mattered.
I remembered leaning in recklessly to kiss him, straddling his lap like I’d seen in movies.
I remembered his tongue in my mouth, the taste of red wine.
It never occurred to me that I could say no, that I could stop what I’d started.
I remembered playing a role, a woman who was older, who had power, who wanted — was enthusiastic — about everything that we did.
I believed that role. I thought it was me.
Afterward, I gave him my number.
Later, I told my mom about the kiss — only the kiss. “Oh, honey, your first kiss! Now that you’re not busy with that play, you’ll have plenty of time for boys.”
When the client’s son called me and asked me to come over after school a week later, I went. And I played my new role.
“Jordana.” Gavin’s voice penetrated the memory. “Come back. You went somewhere else. Be in this room with me.”
Breaking his rule, I looked right at the camera. “Gavin, I can’t be myself for this shoot.”
“Why not?”
“I’m not innocent.” My throat closed up.
He knelt on the bed and planted his hands on the mattress, letting the camera hang from his neck. “According to whom? This is your story, Jordana. Not someone else’s.”
“I need you to talk me through this like you did at the diner. Take control, please. I need your voice, your commands…”
He flinched. “I’m stepping back to let you explore. Believe me, I’ll command the hell out of you later on. But right now, you’re alone with yourself.”
That was the scariest thing he could have said.
But out of respect, I turned my back on him.
Who would I be if I hadn’t gone to that dinner, met that boy? If I’d said no? If I’d defied my father, my mother?
As my thoughts roamed, my hands did too. I wasn’t thinking about whether I was beautiful, or sexy, or desirable. Only about how I felt. Only the glide of my palms on my skin.
The room was heavy with silence. Gavin was a dark thread, weaving around me with his camera. Click. Flash. Click. Flash.
I reached into my bikini top to pinch the pearl of my nipple. I rarely touched myself, but this felt so good, so right, that I eagerly untied the strings of my top and tossed it aside to expose my breasts.
A low hiss came from above like steam escaping.
Gavin had wanted me to keep the swimsuit on while he tied me up. Was this too soon?
“Gorgeous,” he breathed.
The mattress sank as he climbed onto the bed and knelt between my spread thighs. All I could see was the black hole of his lens and the brilliant flash that made me seize up with arousal.
Trying to ignore him, I explored the curves of my breasts, my puckered nipples, my belly and hips. Finally, I tugged my bikini bottoms down a few inches, exposing my pussy to the warm air.
There was a sharp intake of breath. The clicks and flashes stopped. I dared to peek at Gavin and saw his fingers trembling on the camera.
This man, who was capable of taking complete control, was undone by the sight of my cunt.
Slowly, he lowered his camera and climbed off the bed.
“Go on,” he whispered. “Do what feels right to you.”
The pictures began again as I tugged away my bottoms, completely naked now. I parted my legs, desperate for relief.
“Legs together, kitten.” Gavin’s rough whisper caught me by surprise. “We can’t show you spread open.”
My voice came out thick and dreamy. “You said do what feels right to me. Can’t there be pictures of me touching myself?”