7. Cora
cora
. . .
This is the most fun I’ve had in ages. All the members of Velvet Echo are great. Such unique personalities but not one of them is a diva or an asshole.
From what I’ve seen in the press, the biggest asshole in the band isn’t around anymore. Christopher has been bitter about his firing from the band.
There isn’t any mention of him as we work but it is the elephant in the room. This whole photoshoot is about the new line up. I’m just glad they chose me. And I know who I have to thank for that.
The last few months my photography has slipped into a more money focused endeavor, as in pay the bills, rather than amass a fortune. I haven’t had a real project to work on in ages. Something I can use my creative process with.
Working with people who are used to being photographed helps. All the guys take direction really well, even Ronan. They’re handsome with plenty of attributes, but Ronan is different.
It’s odd because Perry is more my type, the muscular dark-haired guy covered in tattoos and the kind of smile that could melt you with one curve of those sinful lips. There is something magnetic about Ronan that is messing with my panties.
We’re finished with the actual modeling part. As I check out the last round of shots of Caden, I can’t help but peer around the screen to watch Ronan.
It’s happened far too often throughout this shoot. I kept my shit together when I was taking his pictures. Outwardly. Barely. At one point a bucket of cold water may have been required.
I already know his pictures are going to be amazing because that old adage is true. Ronan knows his angles, and he knows how to smolder. He was making love to my camera.
More like through my camera. Half the time it felt like he was stripping me naked as he followed my instructions, watching me.
I’m not convinced I hid how flustered he got me when he was changing his top. Instead of stepping aside to do it, he just pulled his T-shirt off right in front of me.
In that way, when a guy grabs the fabric at the back of his neck and just lifts the whole thing over his head, biceps flexing. Unveiling all that tanned, smooth, bare sexiness.
The whole time I’ve been reliving that moment, and having dirty thoughts about him, Ronan has been staring at me.
I clear my throat, and my brain and go back to the layout of Caden, pulling the best and discarding the ones I wouldn’t want to show a client.
“Can I see?”
My heart slams and I almost fall out of my seat.
“Scared you again?” Ronan asks, amusement dancing across his features. He rests his butt against the desk and looks at the screen. “Jesus,” he says in surprise. “Have you touched these up?”
“No, these are the raw images.”
“Fuck,” he murmurs, impressed. “Can I see mine?”
I’m not sure I want to do that, not before I’ve seen them first. Photography can be a very personal thing between the subject and photographer. What will he see when he looks at his images? The last thing I need is Ronan Christian seeing beyond to the meaning behind them.
“You’re not supposed to be looking at these,” I try to deflect.
“Come on,” he grips the edges of the desk and shifts his ass a little closer. “You know mine are going to be the best, right?”
His cologne smells divine. I’m swaying toward him when Marissa stops in front of the desk.
“Cora, thank you so much, this has been an amazing day, but we have to get going.”
“We do?” Ronan asks.
“Yes, Ronan.” Marissa gives him a look. It’s more amused than the tone of her voice would imply. Yeah, she sees right through him. “Cora, how long before we get the proofs through?”
“I should have them completed by tomorrow.”
“That fast?” she asks.
“At the risk of giving anyone a big head” I side-eye Ronan. “They’re all very photogenic.”
“That’s very diplomatic of you.” She smirks. “But I know what you mean.”
“We’re all gorgeous,” Ronan says.
“Oh god.” Marissa rolls her eyes. She thanks me again and says she’ll be in touch about the album cover shoot, then she grabs Ronan’s arm and, much to his annoyance, tugs him away.
I close the screen so no one else can get a sneak peek and head over to the set to put away my cameras. I can be professional until they’re gone. Then I’m having one hell of a party to celebrate that I just got a major job that can bring me untold exposure.
The guys are all gathering their things. Perry leaves alone, saying he needs to get back to have dinner with his wife. My heart melts a little.
Wait…where is Ronan? My heart jumps into my throat when I see him near the back of the room looking around a screen I pulled over to hide what is behind there.
Without looking back, he disappears around the screen.
Shit. Did I make the bed before I came out of there this morning? Oh god, did I put away my vibrator?
Ronan returns and meets my eyes. The flirty, bantering Ronan isn’t here anymore, his brow is furrowed in confusion. And concern. That’s unexpected, but he shouldn’t be nosing around where I definitely do not want him. I hurry over to get him away from my current, makeshift homestead.
Behind us the others are heading out.
“Are you living here?”
“Mind your business.”
“Cora?”
I tug on his arm to pull him away, but the man is immovable.
Ronan looks down at me, his brow furrowed. “We’ll get to how comfortable you are with touching me later. You’re living here, in your studio?”
“No.” I fold my arms.
“Cora, the evidence is right there.”
“You’re imagining it.” The folded arms are a lot more defensive now. I can’t refute him with much conviction. “I’m between residences. But there is nothing wrong with living here.”
“I beg to differ. It’s not a house.”
“It has a bathroom, a place to sleep. I even have a TV.”
“No kitchen.”
“I have a coffee machine.”
“That is not a kitchen, Cora.”
“It is when you don’t cook.”
“Fucking hell, you have an answer for everything.”
To that, I have only one answer. “Don’t even think about telling me I can’t live like this. I can, and I have been, and it’s perfectly fine. And safe.” I point a finger at him. “Before you try to throw that one at me too.”
“Fine.”
“Fine?” I can’t hide the shock.
“If you say so.” He walks around me, back to my ‘home’.
“Bro, you coming?” Caden calls out to me.
“Yes, he is.” I push Ronan, and this time move him so we’re both back out in the studio.
Caden is the only one left waiting for him. He looks from Ronan, to me, then back again. A slow smile creeps over his face.
“I can let them know you’ll be making your own way home,” he says.
“That is not happ?—”
“Thanks, man. Appreciate that,” Ronan cuts off my protest.
“Wait.” I hold up a hand.
“We still on for tomorrow?” Caden asks.
“Yeah, midday.”
“What is going on?” I groan.
Ronan looks at me, then waves at Caden.
“You can’t stay here.” I whirl on Ronan again.
He ignores me and goes back behind the screen. He eyes my bed, then spots the remote for the TV on a small fold-up table. He picks it up, and without a single thought, drops on the bed.
The audacity would be impressive if it wasn’t my bed he was getting comfortable on .
“What in the hell do you think you’re doing? Besides inviting yourself into my personal space.”
“Why are you living here?”
“I already told you to mind your own business.”
He goes quiet for a minute, and I squirm, watching him lying on my damn bed. All that hotness outweighed by his nosiness.
“Alright, if you must know, my landlord was a weak ass bastard who got railroaded by his family and kicked me out. I’m looking for another place, and I have plenty of offers on where to go but I’m perfectly fine here.”
He arches a brow, and I brace for another probing question but all he does is nod.
That’s it? No more questions, no telling me I can’t live here like everyone else? Before I can say anything more, Ronan turns on the TV.
“Look, Rocky III is on.”
I’m at a loss for words. Guess there is a first time for everything.
“Do you like the Rocky movies?”
What in the hell is happening?
Ronan pats the bed in a ‘come join me,’ gesture. “No funny business. You can even pick a movie if you want something different.”
“Are you serious? Don’t you have better things to do?”
“I can think of nothing better than watching a movie in your house .”
He watches me tip my head back, not hiding that I’m counting to ten. He waits me out .
“What’ll it be?”
A terrible idea. A catastrophe waiting to befall me. He’ll soon lose interest. I’m just a passing fancy right now. He’s staring at me, waiting.
I take in the length of his body, the easy way he’s lounging back against my pillows. I really should throw his ass out.
He lifts one side of his lips in a sexy smirk. A challenge of sorts.
Well, he doesn’t know who he is challenging. And what the hell? How many people get to say they watched a movie in bed with Ronan Christian? Probably a lot.
We’re all alone in here now. Anya must have left with everyone else after overhearing our bizarre conversation back here.
“I prefer Rocky two. He beats Creed a second time and proves he deserves to be where he is.”
He grins. “Creed won in Rocky.”
“On a technicality.”
“It’s a points system,” Ronan argues.
“Yeah, well, he beat him fair and square in the second movie.”
The whole time we’ve been arguing, I’ve got on the bed and settled myself beside him. There is no point fighting this, but there is enough space between us another person could fit.
“If you’re sticking around, make yourself useful and order a pizza. I’m hungry, and you’re buying.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
I feel him grinning at me. “Stop it.”
“Stop what?” he asks.
“Plotting. You’re not as subtle as you think.”
My chin tips up. I’ve always been stubborn, but this situation is making me giddy.
He orders a food delivery, and I make us some drinks.
I slip out to grab the food because it’s not a great idea to have the rock star go take delivery from the guy at the reception desk.
When I come back, he’s made himself even more comfortable, his shoes are tossed in the corner and he’s lounging back as I join him with the food.
“Don’t you love first dates,” he comments.
“Don’t even start.” I toss a napkin at him.
We go back to watching the movie, both laughing at the same parts, even when they’re not meant to be funny. It should bother me that we have the same sense of humor.
“Cora, you have a laugh like no one I’ve ever met,” Ronan says, his focus still on the TV. Just when I think he is going to stay quiet, he rolls his head to look at me. His gaze is intense. “I can tell you don’t give your joy out freely, but I’m going to help you change that.”
“Don’t threaten me with a good time,” I murmur.
Ronan laughs and lays back so he’s further down the bed, his head on my pillow. “What do you think of the song ‘Eye of The Tiger’?” he muses.
“That isn’t even in this movie.”
“It’s synonymous with Rocky.”
“I prefer the Jensen Ackles version.”
“The what?” He rolls on to his side to look at me .
“Never mind.” He doesn’t need to hear about my obsession with Supernatural and my decade long crush on one of its stars. Or the realization Ronan looks a little like him. Same green eyes and hot masculine energy.
“‘Burning Heart’ is a better Survivor song,” I divert the conversation. He has a weird obsession with eighties music, so he is easily distracted.
Ronan sits up and pulls out his phone. I figure he’s going to get up the song, but he taps around then puts the phone away.
“What was that?”
“What was what?”
“Did you just make a note of that song?”
“Perhaps.”
“Why?”
“I have my reasons.”
Closing the pizza box, I drop it on the floor beside the bed and sit cross-legged facing him. “Is this about your mixtape?”
“You mean your mixtape.”
“You’re seriously making a mixtape for me? We’re not in high school, Ronan. And it’s also not 1986.”
“But isn’t that what you do when you want to make someone your girl.”
“Oh, you went there.”
“What if I did?” He bends his elbow and props himself up, staring at me with that smolder I’m getting stupid over. “What are you gonna do about it?”