Chapter Three
M aya
Maya stood outside the resort's private photography studio. She'd spent the night tossing and turning, replaying every second of Dom's kiss, the way his hands had felt in her hair, the heat of his body pressed against hers in the hallway.
Professional. She needed to be professional.
The studio was a photographer's dream—floor-to-ceiling windows offering natural light, state-of-the-art equipment, and enough space to create any vision she could imagine.
Maya had arrived early to set up, needing the ritual of checking her cameras and adjusting lights to center herself before facing Dom again.
"Hiding behind your equipment already?"
Maya turned at the sound of his voice. Dom leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, wearing dark jeans and a white button-down shirt that emphasized every hard line of his torso. His stare held amusement and something darker that made her pulse quicken.
"Just setting up," she said, proud that her voice came out steady. "Some of us actually prepare for our work."
Dom's laugh was rich as he stepped into the studio, moving in a way that made her think of a large panther. "And some of us have been doing this long enough to know the equipment is only as good as the person behind it."
He was testing her, Maya realized. Seeing if she could be intimidated. She lifted her chin, meeting his gaze directly.
"Then you should have nothing to worry about."
"No," Dom said, his voice dropping to that rough register that made her wet. "I don't think I do."
Maya busied herself with adjusting a light, trying to ignore the way he watched her every movement. "Colleen wants natural shots. Authentic moments that show who you really are."
"And who do you think I really am, Maya?"
The question made her pause, her hands stilling on the equipment. When she looked at him, Dom had moved closer, close enough that she saw the flecks of gold in his green eyes.
"I think," she said carefully, "you're a man who's spent so long being what other people want that you've forgotten how to just be yourself."
Vulnerability flickered across his features before he masked it with that practiced charm. "Careful, sweetheart. You're starting to sound like you give a damn."
"Maybe I do." The words slipped out before Maya could stop them.
Dom went very still. For a moment, the only sound in the studio was the hum of the air conditioning. Then he smiled—not the polished smile she'd seen in magazines, but something real and dangerous.
"Show me," he said.
Maya blinked. "What?"
"Show me what you see. Take the pictures that matter." Dom moved to the center of the studio, his movements deliberate and controlled. "But I have conditions."
“What kind of conditions?"
"You do this my way. No directing, no posing suggestions, no telling me how to stand or where to look." His eyes locked with hers. "You want authentic? Then you get me exactly as I am."
This wasn't just about photography anymore—this was Dom asserting his dominance, testing whether she'd submit to his control even in her own professional space.
Maya lifted her camera, checking the settings without breaking eye contact. "Fine. But I shoot what I see, not what you want me to see."
"Deal."
The first few shots were safe—Dom standing by the windows, natural light cutting across his features. Maya found her rhythm, the familiar weight of the camera in her hands steadying her nerves.
Then Dom started moving.
It was subtle at first. A shift in posture that emphasized the breadth of his shoulders. A turn of his head that caught the light on his jawline. But Maya saw the intention behind every movement, the way he was using his body like a weapon designed to make her lose focus.
"Problem?" Dom asked, his voice carrying that hint of amusement that set her teeth on edge.
"No problem." Maya adjusted her lens, zooming in on his face. Through the viewfinder, she detailed everything about him—the intelligence in his eyes, the slight curve of his lips that suggested he was enjoying this far too much.
"Good. Because I'd hate for you to be distracted."
The way he said the word made Maya's cheeks flush. She lowered the camera, meeting his gaze directly. "It takes more than a pretty face to distract me."
Dom's smile turned dangerous. "Who said anything about my face?"
Before Maya could respond, he pulled his shirt over his head, revealing a torso that belonged in museums. Every muscle was perfectly defined, his chest broad and strong, with a light dusting of dark hair that trailed down to disappear beneath his jeans.
Maya's mouth went dry. She'd seen shirtless models before—it was part of the job. But this was different. Personal. Like Dom was stripping away more than just his shirt.
"Problem now?" he asked, his voice thick with desire.
Maya raised her camera with hands that weren't quite steady. "Not at all."
But her first few shots were terrible. The camera seemed to have a mind of its own, focusing on the wrong elements, missing the moments that mattered. Maya cursed under her breath, adjusting settings that should have been automatic.
"Maya."
Dom's voice was closer now. When she lowered her camera, he was standing just a few feet away, close enough to touch. The afternoon light streaming through the windows painted his skin golden, highlighting every ridge of muscle, every perfect line of his body.
"You're thinking too much," he said quietly. "Stop trying to control the shot and just feel it."
"I don't—"
"You do." Dom stepped closer, close enough that she felt the heat radiating from his skin. "I can see it in your eyes. You want something, Maya. Stop being afraid to take it."
"This is supposed to be professional."
"Is it?" Dom's hand came up to cup her cheek, his thumb brushing across her skin with devastating gentleness. "Because the way you're looking at me right now doesn't feel very professional."
Maya knew she should step back, should re-establish boundaries, should remember that her career depended on this assignment. Instead, she leaned into his touch, her body betraying every rational thought in her head.
"Dom..."
"Take the picture, Maya."
She blinked up at him, confused. "What?"
"Right now. This moment. Take the picture."
Maya raised her camera with trembling hands, not understanding what he meant until she saw his expression through the viewfinder. Intense. Completely unguarded as he looked at her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered.
The shutter clicked almost of its own accord.
"Again," Dom murmured, his hand still cupping her face.
Maya took another shot, then another. Each click of the shutter captured something different—desire, vulnerability, a hunger that went deeper than simple physical attraction. These weren't posed photos. They were stolen moments, honest emotions caught on film.
"Beautiful," Dom said softly. "Do you see it now? What happens when you stop hiding behind that camera?"
Maya lowered the camera, her lips parting as she tried to find words. But Dom was already moving, backing her across the studio with predatory grace until her back hit the door of the studio.
"This is what's real, Maya," he said. "Not the poses, not the perfect lighting. This."
His mouth crashed down on hers with none of the controlled precision from their hallway encounter. This kiss was hungry, desperate, like he'd been starving for the taste of her. Maya gasped against his lips, and Dom took advantage, his tongue sweeping into her mouth to claim and conquer.
Maya's camera slipped from her suddenly nerveless fingers, the strap catching on her wrist as Dom pressed his body against hers.
She felt every hard inch of him—the solid wall of his chest, the rigid length of him pressed against her hip, the controlled strength in his hands as they tangled in her hair.
"God, Maya," Dom groaned against her mouth. "You're driving me insane."
His hands tugged the hem of her blouse, fingers skimming the bare skin of her waist. Maya arched into his touch, a soft moan escaping her lips as he skimmed over the sensitive spot just below her ribs.
"We shouldn't," she gasped, even as her hands fisted in his hair, holding him closer.
"Probably not," Dom agreed, his lips moving to her throat. "Tell me to stop."
Maya opened her mouth to do exactly that, but what came out instead was a breathless "Don't you dare."
Dom's hands braced on either side of her body as he stared down at her with eyes gone dark with want.
"Last chance," he said. "Tell me to stop, and I will. But if you don't..."
"If I don't?" Maya's voice came out as barely a whisper.
"If you don't, I'm going to show you exactly what I've been thinking about since I kissed you yesterday.
" His hand came up to trace the line of her jaw, his touch gentle despite the hunger in his eyes.
"I'm going to touch you until you can't think straight.
Kiss you until you forget your own name.
And then I'm going to watch you come apart in my hands. "
She should say no. Should remember all the reasons this was a terrible idea. Instead, she reached up and pulled his mouth down to hers.
"Yes," she whispered against his lips. "Yes, to all of it."
Dom's control snapped. His mouth crashed down on hers again as his hands made quick work of the buttons on her blouse. Maya gasped as his palms covered her breasts through the thin lace of her bra, his thumbs brushing over her nipples until they peaked against the delicate fabric.
"So responsive," Dom murmured, his lips trailing down her throat to the hollow between her collarbones. "I want to know all the sounds you make when you lose control."
His hands were everywhere—skimming down her sides, tracing the curve of her waist, sliding around to cup her ass and lift her onto a nearby counter. Maya wrapped her legs around his waist instinctively, pulling him closer as he continued his assault on her senses.