Chapter 55
AUSTIN
Iwoke up to Melody already out of bed, humming to herself in the bathroom. I stretched, feeling more relaxed than I had in days. Last night had been incredible. Yesterday had been everything. We spent the whole day hanging out. Eating. Having sex. And just being together.
And I was hoping for a repeat today. That was the bonus of not having a job. We could hang out all day every day.
“Morning, sleepyhead,” she called out, appearing in the doorway wrapped in a fluffy robe, her hair still messy from sleep and my hands.
“Morning, beautiful.”
She padded over and kissed me, tasting like mint toothpaste. “I have a full day of content creation blocked out. You’re welcome to hang around, but fair warning—it’s going to be boring for you.”
I sat up, an idea forming. “What if I help?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Help how?”
“I can be your assistant. Your photographer. Your eye candy.” I waggled my eyebrows.
She laughed, and the sound made my chest warm. “You want to take pictures of me trying on clothes?”
“Baby girl, I want to do whatever makes you happy. Plus, I’m genuinely curious about what you do all day. Show me your world. And I should remind you the photos I took of you blew up on your social media. I’m apparently pretty good at it.”
Her expression softened. “Okay. But you have to follow my directions. This is my work.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
After a quick breakfast, it was time to get to work.
An hour later, I was holding her professional camera, which was way more complicated than my phone but I figured it out.
Melody modeled a flowy sundress in her living room.
I got the chance to see her workspace. Again, I was impressed by just how serious she took things.
There were various props and backdrops. A large window allowed plenty of natural light, but she had several professional-looking lights as well.
“How’s this angle?” I asked, crouching down.
“Lower. It’s more flattering.”
I dropped to one knee, adjusting the lens the way she’d shown me. Through the viewfinder, she looked like a goddess. The dress caught the light perfectly, hugging her curves before flowing out around her thighs.
“You’re staring,” she said, but she was smiling.
“Can you blame me?”
“Less staring, more shooting, Bancroft.”
I snapped a burst of photos. She moved naturally, shifting her weight, adjusting her pose. She knew exactly what she was doing, and watching her work was mesmerizing. I had kind of assumed her job was just taking selfies, but this was an artist who understood angles, lighting, composition.
“How do they look?” she asked.
I turned the camera to show her the display screen. She leaned in, studying each shot critically.
“These are actually good,” she said, surprised.
“I wish you didn’t sound so shocked,” I said with a smile.
“Well, it’s just that most guys wouldn’t get it. But you’re actually listening to what I’m asking for.”
“That’s because you know what you’re talking about, and I respect that.” I stood up, adjusting my grip on the camera. “What’s next? Some boudoir shots?”
“No, next outfit.” She disappeared into her bedroom, calling out, “This is going to take a minute!”
“Are you sure I shouldn’t be in there, documenting the whole process?” I asked loud enough for her to hear me.
“I’m not that kind of internet model,” she called back.
“I can leave the camera out here,” I said with a chuckle.
“Okay, what do you think?” Melody emerged in a killer pantsuit that made my mouth go dry. It was tailored perfectly, emphasizing her waist and showing off her figure. She had added heels that made her legs look endless.
“I think you’re trying to kill me.”
She laughed, striking a pose. “Is that a yes?”
“That’s a fuck yes.”
We worked through several more outfits. With each change, I got better with the camera, and she got more playful with her poses.
“You’re actually pretty good at this,” she admitted, reviewing the shots on her laptop. “Cleo is going to be jealous.”
“I just have a good subject.”
She rolled her eyes but was grinning. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”
“Is it still flattery if it’s true?” I asked, musing out loud.
“I think so.” She stood up, stretching. “One more outfit change, and then I’ll need to edit these.”
“What’s the last outfit?”
Her smile turned wicked. “You’ll see.”
She disappeared into the bedroom again, and I fiddled with the camera, scrolling through the photos we’d taken. She looked confident and beautiful and completely herself in every single one.
“Okay,” she called out. “Close your eyes.”
“What?”
“Close your eyes!”
“Little hard to take pictures with my eyes closed.” I laughed.
“Close them.”
I obeyed, grinning. I heard her footsteps approaching, felt her presence close by.
“Open them.”
I opened my eyes and nearly dropped the camera.
She stood there in matching lace lingerie.
A deep burgundy number that contrasted beautifully with her skin.
The bra showcased her curves, and the high-waisted panties sat perfectly on her hips.
She also wore thigh-high stockings with a delicate lace trim.
“Holy fuck,” I breathed.
“Too much?” she asked, suddenly looking uncertain.
“Don’t change a thing,” I managed to say. “You’re stunning.”
Melody smiled and rolled her eyes, pretending she didn’t love it. “Are you ready with the camera?”
I shook my head. “No, ma’am. Not going to do it. I am not taking pictures of you looking like that so you can post the pictures.”
She grinned and popped her hip. “Why not?”
I put the camera down and walked to her, placing my hands on her hips. “Melody, I’m not playing. This is mine. I don’t want you flashing this body to the world. It’s mine.”
She arched an eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s very caveman of you.”
I shrugged. “I suppose it is.”
“It’s not fair that I’m the only one half-naked here.”
I helped her pull my shirt over my head, and her hands immediately went to my chest, tracing the lines of muscle. She made an appreciative sound that went straight to my groin.
“Your turn to model,” she said, reaching for the camera.
“You want to take pictures of me?”
“Fair is fair.” She gestured to the backdrop. “Go on. Work it, Bancroft.”
I laughed but moved to the backdrop, striking an exaggerated pose. She snapped a photo, giggling. I tried different poses while she clicked away, both of us laughing. This was ridiculous and perfect and exactly what I needed.
“Lose the pants,” she said.
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me.” Her eyes sparkled with mischief. “I showed you mine.”
“Not all of it.” I unbuttoned my jeans slowly, watching her watch me. Her breath quickened as I pushed them down and kicked them aside, leaving me in just my boxer briefs.
“Better?” I asked.
“You’re getting there.” She bit her lip, camera forgotten in her hands. “You’re really hot, you know that?”
“I’ve been told.” I crooked my finger at her. “Come here.”
She set the camera down and walked into my arms. I kissed her deeply, my hands roaming over the lace. She pressed against me, all that lace scratching against my bare chest. Things got hot and heavy, and the next thing I knew, we were naked on the floor in her studio.
Later—much later—I found myself on her couch in nothing but my boxers, scrolling through the photos on her camera while she puttered around in the kitchen making lunch. The shots were incredible. Not just the professional ones from earlier, but the candid ones. The real ones.
There was one of her laughing, completely free and unguarded, that took my breath away. She was photogenic. Some people looked weird or fake in photographs. Not her. She was stunning.
“What are you looking at?” Melody asked, coming around the couch with two plates.
“These photos. You’re beautiful.”
She set the plates down and leaned over my shoulder. She smelled like sex and happiness. “Austin, you’re a natural photographer.”
“You’re a natural model. The camera loves you.”
She studied the screen as I scrolled, then suddenly stilled. “Wait, go back.”
I went back to a shot I’d taken of her in the lingerie, mid-laugh, completely natural.
“I love that one,” she said softly. “That’s how I want to feel all the time.”
“Free?”
“Happy,” she corrected. “Just purely happy.”
I set the camera aside and pulled her around the couch into my lap. “You make me happy too. You know that, right?”
“I’m trying,” she murmured.
“And succeeding. Maybe we can send some shots to Cleo’s damned Instagram account.”
She nearly choked on her food, laughing. “What?”
“That account with all my worst photos. It’s singlehandedly convincing part of the population that I’m not attractive, and that’s a crime in my books.”
“Austin Bancroft, are you vain?”
“I prefer ‘appropriately confident in my appearance.’”
She was full on laughing now, and I loved it. “That account has like 800,000 followers. I don’t think your modeling shots are going to change any minds.”
“I could try. Give them something good to look at for once.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“You love it.”
She smiled, soft and genuine. “Yeah, I really do.”
We finished eating, making plans between bites. Weekend plans. Normal couple things.
“There’s a show I’ve been wanting to see,” Melody said. “At the Winter Garden Theatre. Would you want to go?”
“What show?” She named it, and I nodded. “Let me make a call. I’ll get us tickets.”
“Austin, you don’t have to make a call, cash in a chip or whatever you rich people do.”
“I want to. Let me spoil you a little. And it’s not about cashing in anything. I’m just going to ask if there are tickets available.”
She bit her lip, then nodded. “Okay, but I don’t want you to take someone else’s tickets.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because you’re rich and people like you take what they want.”
“I think I’m offended.”
She kissed my cheek. “You should be.”
“We can go to my brother Dane’s restaurant for dinner.”
She looked thoughtful. “You told me but I forgot.”
“Edge.”
“Oh! Yes! That would be amazing. Again, aren’t they always booked up?”
I gave her a dry look. “It’s my brother.”
“But I don’t want to bump someone’s reservation.”
“He keeps an open table for family,” I said. “With a family as big as ours, you never know when someone is going to drop in. And if that’s not available, we can eat in his office.”
Melody smiled. “That sounds perfect. I can’t wait.”
She leaned against me. I wrapped my arm around her shoulders.
We sat like that for a while, comfortable in the silence.
Sitting on her couch in our underwear eating sandwiches and making weekend plans should not have felt as good as it did.
But somehow, it felt better than any yacht trip or exclusive party ever had.
“What are you thinking about?” she asked.
“That I’m having just as much fun here with you as I did in Tahiti.”
She tilted her head to look at me. “Is that a good thing?”
“It’s the best thing.” I kissed her forehead.
She grabbed the remote and turned on the TV, finding some cooking show we both immediately started making fun of.
As the afternoon stretched into evening, we stayed like that, half-dressed, completely comfortable, doing absolutely nothing special.
She worked on editing photos on her laptop while I scrolled through my phone.
We ordered takeout for dinner because neither of us wanted to move. We watched TV and talked and laughed.
It was mundane. Domestic. Normal.
And it was perfect.
“Stay tonight,” she said as we were cleaning up the takeout containers.
“You sure?”
“I’m sure. I like having you here.”
“I like being here.”
I did feel like I belonged in her home. In her life.
I thought about the day. How everything felt right even when we were doing nothing at all. The fact that I could be just as happy on her couch in my boxers as I’d been on a luxury yacht said something.
It said we had something real. Something that transcended money and status and all the superficial bullshit I’d spent years chasing.
When we went to bed that night, we were both pretty sexed out. I didn’t think that was even possible, but I was actually looking forward to simply holding her.
I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling, with an incredible woman in my arms. I realized something that should have scared me but didn’t—I could do this every day for the rest of my life and never get bored.