Chapter Twenty-Two
Kairo
I’ve never been to a photo shoot before.
We’re crammed into Rosalie’s dressing room, Roman taking up most of the sofa and Maddox sitting bleary-eyed beside him as he fights to stay awake.
I’m propped against the armrest of the couch, occasionally snatching the back of Maddox’s head to keep him from slumping over like a ragdoll onto the floor.
His sleeping has gotten worse. Part of it’s because we’re staying in a new place that isn’t our apartment. Maddox has to get used to his surroundings before he’s comfortable enough to crash. Another part is something far more…peculiar.
It’s obvious he’s stopped taking his meds, and Roman notices the third time I drag our friend’s head back against the rest of the sofa.
Rosalie is oblivious to what’s going on. She’s seated in front of a large vanity with fluorescent lights framing the mirror. She’s dressed in a silky white robe, her legs crossed as a make-up artist flutters around her, applying lipstick and removing the curlers from her hair.
It’s interesting to see her dolled up like this, with blush painted over her cheeks and black eyeliner heightening her siren eyes until she looks dangerous and tantalizing. Her soft curls fall around her heart-shaped face, framing her perfectly.
Fuck, she looks good enough to eat.
My mouth is watering as my eyes bounce around every inch of exposed flesh I can see. Being too far away is agitating, and I’m unable to stop myself as I rise from my seated position and wander over. I’m cautious not to get in the make-up artist’s way as she finishes with Rosalie’s hair.
I run my fingers along the vanity, catching those enchanting green eyes in the mirror. Rosalie gives me an impatient expression. “Don’t touch anything.”
I rub my hand all over the tops of the makeup palettes, smirking when the artist covers her amused snort with the back of her hand.
“You’re worse than a child,” Rosalie snarks, rising from her chair. “Is the photographer ready?”
The artist checks her phone, then nods and packs up her supplies. She leads us out first as Elijah intercepts Rosalie before she can step onto the set. They speak in hushed tones, and he looks remorseful as he apologizes.
She gives him a reassuring smile, listening to him as he tries to explain himself. She’s far different from when we were teenagers, but she’s still a good person at heart. I’m glad to see that never changed.
But I think I like this bratty side of her even more. She’s outspoken and not afraid to put us in our places. It’s going to make taming her even more fun.
Maddox looks like he’s fading as his head hangs and he slouches back against a vacant wall. Until his eyes saucer and his head shoots up as he stares at something behind us. “Hey…what kind of photoshoot is this?”
Roman scowls. “I don’t know. Something to do with a sports brand.”
Maddox’s eyes dilate at something in the distance, and I follow his gaze, unprepared for the miles of creamy, perfect skin on display.
Rosalie has shed her robe and now stands in a matching pink bikini set and heels.
Her shapely waist dips near her flared hips, and the perfect globes of her breasts show past her top.
Her legs are long and toned, showing just how athletic she is with muscular, supple thighs and perfect calves.
My sight soaks in every inch of her I can, bouncing around as if I’m not looking well enough at one particular point of her.
Then, I notice something faint over her arms as she struts closer to the set.
It wouldn’t be noticeable if those pale scars weren’t scattered across her skin like an untold story and far too many to count with the naked eye.
Bitterness churns in my gut at her wounds, something profound washing over me in tidal waves.
We knew her home life was bad, but I never thought…
Roman rubs a hand across his mouth, dangerous, dark intent swirling in his irises. There’s anger mixed with his desire, lighting a fire within him.
Maddox is now awake, his bloodshot gaze following Rosalie as she steps onto the large, white backdrop that makes up the set.
“You see them too?” I ask him low, cautious not to stir attention from the crew rushing around us.
“Mhm,” he hums at my side.
A few people on the production crew wheel massive lights towards the set, illuminating Rosalie in all her beauty before another man pushes a luxurious red armchair onto the backdrop behind her.
The photographer, a man in his forties with silver straight hair to his shoulders and neutral-toned clothing, glides onto the set. His camera hangs down from his neck, resting over his loose shirt as he smiles in welcome at Thorn.
“Rose, my dear, it’s a pleasure to work with you again. Stunning, as always!” He gushes.
“Hi, Carlos,” she greets before he kisses her cheek.
My fist tightens at my side at the contact. I hyperfixate on the spot where the photographer touched her, my jaw grinding.
Roman turns away, waving a hand. “I can’t watch this. Tell me when it’s over.”
Maddox and I exchange a look. It seems we aren’t the only two who can’t stomach the idea of another man touching what belongs to us.
“Okay!” Carlos claps, catching the production crew’s attention. “We’re going to do a few single shots, and then we can bring the model in.”
Roman’s head whips around to us. “Model?”
I shrug. “Probably another woman. Don’t think too hard about it.”
He shakes his head before going back to staring at the opposite wall.
Maddox and I are enraptured by Rosalie’s shoot.
The sultry, seductive poses that Carlos suggests are the things of my wet dreams as Thorn kneels on the chair and places her hands in front of her before arching her back, and her perfectly rounded ass is in the air.
She gives the camera a smoldering expression, glancing through her lashes as she subtly changes her position with every shutter of the camera.
“You’re on fire, Rose!” Carlos praises before instructing her to sit in the chair and throw her legs over the armrest.
Her head tips back, and we make eye contact.
Her face is impassive until the corner of her mouth tugs up in a smirk, and she lifts a hand to her breast. She tucks the other neatly between her thighs before rubbing her roaming fingers over her hardened nipple.
She teases it through the fabric, her eyes fluttering slightly as they burn into me.
Fuck, I’m hard enough to pound nails.
She knows what she’s doing, the little fucking tease. God, this bold side of her really gets me going, and I’m forced to stand here like a fucking idiot and watch her. No touching.
It’s torture.
A dark chuckle tumbles past my lips as I tilt my head in warning.
“Oh, Rosey, darling! That’s perfect! Drive them wild!” Carlos shouts as there’s even more shuttering from his camera.
Thorn doesn’t heed my warning as her finger dips past the cup of her bikini top, and I catch the smallest sliver of her pale pink nipple. My mouth begs to close around the dusky peak as my breathing becomes ragged with desire.
“Oh, that’s x-rated, my love!” Carlos gasps. “Fantastic! Bring in the model, quickly, before she loses the vision!” He ushers his crew into action, sending a few scurrying to drag the model out onto the set.
Elijah walks over to us, a hand raised to his mouth as he stares at Thorn with pride. “She’s a natural.”
Yeah, a natural fucking vixen.
“Perfect…” Maddox mumbles, oblivious to the brow-raised expression Elijah shoots him.
When a tall guy with windswept brown hair is pushed onto the set, Maddox and I both tense. This newcomer looks like model material with his exposed, sculpted abdomen and chiseled jaw.
It would take nothing to fucking shatter a bone structure like that.
“Fuck no.” Roman grits, his molars grinding as his eyes lock onto the male model shaking hands with Thorn.
Elijah glances between us like a deer caught in headlights. “He isn’t a security threat—”
“Don’t care,” Roman spits before brushing past the PR manager. We follow behind him, ready to do whatever it takes to make sure this doesn’t happen.
The photographer’s eyes widen when we approach, and he lowers the camera. “Can I help you?”
“We’re Rosalie’s security,” I smirk.
“No unapproved models without direct permission,” Roman instructs. “It’s in our agreement. Everyone is to be vetted beforehand. This is a breach.”
“Oh…” Carlos trails, glancing at Thorn. “My apologies.”
Rosalie scowls at us. “Seriously? Dante is fine.” She motions to the male model, who preens like a fucking bird.
Roman crosses his arms, posting up as he stares down at her. “Breaching the contract results in early termination of any agreement proposed by either party. You do this, and we end it here.”
Her shoulders sink before she releases a harsh breath. Her mouth twists. “Fine. So, what do you propose I do? This is meant to be a couple’s shoot.”
Roman nods. “Kairo will do it.”
My head swivels around to him. “I will?”
“No!” Thorn gives an egregious sound. “He isn’t even a model!”
I scoff, rubbing a hand down my stomach. “I’m far better looking than Ken doll over here.”
Dante rolls his eyes before throwing his hands up. “You know what? I actually forgot I have another appointment. I’ll see you later, Rose.”
Rosalie’s lips part on a plea, but it withers before Dante can make it off the set. She closes her eyes tightly, taking a calming breath.
Carlos places a hand on my shoulder, turning me to face the production crew. “Can we get hair and make-up? I need him ready in ten.”
I’m whisked away by two women who take my arms and drag me into a dressing room.
“This is a dilemma…” Carlos says as he brushes a finger across his chin.
I’m in a pair of tight, mid-thigh swim trunks that show far more than what’s necessary.
My dick feels like it’s vacuum sealed to my god damned thigh.
The photographer’s eyes are fixed on my legs, covered in two full sleeves of geometric tattoos. “I didn’t expect so much…artwork.”
He’s trying to be nice, but it’s obvious he doesn’t appreciate my ink.
Rosalie places her hands on her hips. “Hmm. Think of it this way. Wouldn’t it cause quite the stir in the tabloids? People will wonder who the model covered in tattoos is.”
Carlos’ eyes light up. “I love a good scandal. Let’s get this rolling!”
People scatter around us, and I’m pushed onto the set beside Thorn. We stand side-by-side as the photographer spouts off instructions, but I’m not paying attention as my hand lifts to the small of Rosalie’s back, and I feel her tense beneath my fingers before a full-body shudder wracks her spine.
Her warmth soaks into my fingertips, and her skin is so soft and smooth against my calloused palm. She feels fucking phenomenal beside me. “You were so brave earlier…” I whisper, staring down at her.
Her throat bobs in a gulp before her eyes, full of mischievous intent, shift up to me. “I’m brave now.”
A deep rumble of approval shakes my chest. “Good. Let’s play, Thorn.”
Carlos puts us in a few poses, and all of them are like pure temptation—Thorn standing flush against me, her hand gripping my bicep, and one of her legs between mine as she pouts for the camera, her with her back pressed against my abdomen and her head resting on my chest as I place a hand over her hip.
It takes everything in me not to bunch up the skimpy little bikini bottoms just to see the outline of her pussy.
The bottoms hardly cover enough as it is, and one minor adjustment will have her bared to me in an instant.
Roman and Maddox stand at full attention on the outskirts of the set.
They’re much closer now, eating Thorn alive with their eyes as if they’re begging for a taste too.
It’s in the way Roman keeps rubbing a hand over his mouth like he’s starving, and the subtle shift that Maddox gives with every move of my hands on our little Thorn.
Rosalie stays focused on the photographer, but I know she’s hyper aware of every movement I make.
Her quiet gasps as I rub a hand across her stomach and the way she bites her lower lip anytime I pull her intimately closer to me are her giveaways.
She’s just as affected as I am, but she’s doing a damn good job of hiding it.
Such a little fucking tease.
“Okay!” Carlos announces once the camera stops shuttering. “For this next pose, I need passion and desire! You’re both giving so much natural chemistry that I want something to make the people question their morals.”
I slide my hand to the nape of Thorn’s neck, bunching her hair in my fist before subtly pulling her back. I lean down, my breath fanning over the shell of her ear as I growl low. “Can you do that, little Thorn? Let’s show the people who you belong to.”
Those green siren eyes shift to me, her bravado strong. “I don’t belong to anyone.”
“Mmm,” I hum. “So feisty.”
We become caught in each other, staring into one another with so much pent-up energy and connection that it makes my skin prickle like a live wire. She can deny this all she wants, but even the photographer sees it.
We’re meant for each other.
When she speaks, her voice is soft but heavy with her conviction. “You make me sick.”
“So you’ve said,” I smirk before tugging her back further until I overcrowd her field of vision, and all she can see is me. “Let me infect you, Thorn.”
There’s trepidation in her gaze as she becomes entirely consumed by me.
I think she’s going to back down; hell, anyone in their right mind would, but she surprises me as she loses every ounce of hesitancy.
Her features harden into something unshakeable, and it makes my lips part in shock. “Game on,” She whispers.
“That’s what I’m talking about!” Carlos shouts, breaking up our moment. “Rose, darling, can I get you seated on the ground? I want to try something.”
Thorn’s brows crease before I release her and let her ease down to the floor. Carlos instructs her to perch on her left hip and fold her legs beside her. It causes her head to rest against the outer part of my thigh as her hands wrap around my leg.
“Yes!” Carlos praises. “It’s seductive and beautiful! Now, give me more of that dazzling chemistry!”
A conniving grin tugs at the corner of my lips as I snatch Thorn by her hair and pull her flush against my thigh.
Her gaze cuts up to me, and her eyes narrow before she opens her mouth and sinks her teeth into my flesh.
I hiss at the slight pain as pleasure bursts through me.
My cock hardens against my leg, and Thorn gets an eyeful of it as she doesn’t let up.
“Oh, my…” Carlos laughs. Some of the crew chuckle as they fix the lighting. “That’s going to be a billboard hit.”
The camera begins to shutter again, but neither of us is paying attention to the crew. There’s the start of something electrifying in Thorn’s sight—a war being waged beyond those thick, perfect lashes of hers.
And I can’t fucking wait to win.