Total pages in book: 136
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 131821 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 659(@200wpm)___ 527(@250wpm)___ 439(@300wpm)
She likes trim and tapered, wide shoulders, and a core that looks painted on…if I do say so my damn self. She likes, well, me.
I glance her way, narrowing in on the pink of her cheeks as she looks at the three of us through the lens.
Right?
“Okay, Payton, we want at least a dozen group shots to pick from and then double that for the individuals. We’ll be featuring them come summer, trickling them in to help build excitement for next season. And if there’s one thing the Avix Inquirer readers love, it’s abs, so don’t hold back. Move them where you want them, and let us know when you’re done. Kari and Leddy are working lighting, so just do you, and they’ll follow your lead.”
Payton nods, the slight press of her lips letting me know she’s a bit nervous, but then she blinks, straightens her shoulders, and hot damn. She transforms.
One minute she’s a blushing, shy little thing, and the next she’s bossing a two-hundred-and-sixty-pound man around like no one’s business.
It’s a damn good look on her, but I’m not the only one who thinks so, and when it’s Fernando who goes first for his solos, he’s a smirking bastard, staring her right in the eye the entire time.
I stand to the side, arms crossed and glare intact, listening as she instructs him, praising when he does what he’s told, but when she asks him to twist his torso slightly while keeping his hips facing forward, he pretends like he don’t get it.
“You’ll have to show me, sweetheart. I’m not sure what you mean.” He grins, and the fucker ain’t ugly.
But he is lying.
I’ve seen his Instagram. He’s a thirst trap pro. Loves the mirror.
Payton steps away from the tripod and onto the small rise of the set. Her hands move out, and she directs him without touching him.
Fernando’s eyes are on her face, and he smiles wider. “Like this?” He doesn’t even move.
“No.” Payton chuckles, and this time when her hand goes out, her fingers press to his upper abs. “Twist here. It will define the abs more, and keep facing forward.”
My teeth are grinding together, and I take a step forward when his hand shoots out, wrapping around her wrist as he does what she asked.
Payton’s eyes snap my way instantly, and that is the only reason my feet freeze in place.
She knows I don’t like it, doesn’t she?
Knows I want his hands off her and hers off him.
“Like this?” Fernando smirks.
Anger and jealousy start to boil in my blood, and my foot starts tapping.
This is her job. She’s working.
She’s not touching him because she wants to.
I close my eyes, counting to five, and when I open them, she’s behind the camera again.
Jeremy goes next and listens a hell of a lot better, and then it’s my turn.
I step into the lights, standing tall, and wait for her instructions.
“Uh…um.” She swallows. “Okay, straight on first, and then slow shifts to each side, hips staying in place.”
I’m a good fucking boy, doing exactly what she asked, my eyes locked on hers through the lens the entire time.
“Holy shit.” The lead editor of the Avix Inquirer, as she introduced herself earlier, steps up, staring at the sample screen to the left. Her eyes move from it to me and back. “These are just…yes.”
Payton’s eyes snap up over the lip of the camera, and I wink at her.
I don’t know what those images show, but I know what I was thinking about the entire time she was clicking that little button.
Me and her.
Her and me.
Every which way our bodies could move and how well she’d listen if it were me on the other side of this little situation. How bad I want to get her in front of a camera lens so she can see how I see her.
Literal, utter perfection.
A fucking mirage I want to capture and keep. Spoil. Fucking ravage.
A flush works its way up Payton’s neck, and I chew the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling. I’m standing here alone under bright-ass lights in nothing but a pair of navy football pants, undone in the front to show my black briefs.
I lift my left hand, run my thumb knuckle along my lips, and watch as her chest rises, the flash flickering over and over and over. My teeth sink into my lip next, and she drops her gaze to the floor, but only for a split second, and then she’s back, gripping her camera and tugging it from the tripod. She steps right once, twice, and my head follows, my body staying stationary, and I swear she shudders.
“Done,” she calls out suddenly, and then she spins on her heels, her steps carrying her across the room and through a small door in the back of it.