I kept going over things in my head, trying to figure out when I’d changed from wanting Sine to continue modeling for me to simply wanting her. She was nothing like the women I usually went for. I’d always preferred slender builds, but Sine was the definition of petite. When I picked her up the other night and carried her to her bedroom, I realized just how small she was. For a moment, when I’d been above her, I had the sudden urge to tell her that I’d protect her, keep her safe. That I’d never let anyone hurt her. Not even me. Not even if I had to walk away.

But that thought hadn’t been enough to stop me from sinking into her, from finding pleasure in her body.

It hadn’t been until I’d untied her and started rubbing her arms and hands to get the circulation flowing properly that I’d realized just how stupid I’d been. She was my assistant and my model, not some nameless Sub I met at a club. And while Sine might not have been a virgin, she definitely wasn’t experienced, especially not in bondage. Having sex with her could ruin everything.

I’d always vowed I’d never be the sort of sleazy photographer who’d seduce his models, and until Saturday night, I’d kept that promise.

I hadn’t lingered, but I hadn’t exactly snuck out either. I cleaned myself up in her tiny bathroom before letting her know I’d see myself out. She hadn’t seemed upset when she’d gone to take a shower, but I’d been too cowardly to wait around to make sure she was okay. Now, I was kicking myself for that.

What if she didn’t come in today? She would be well within her rights to file a harassment claim, or even something worse if she felt like I’d pressured her into sex. I could lose her as an assistant and as a model, and that would be the very least of the consequences my rash actions could have. It wasn’t outside the realm of possibility that she could sue me, drag my name through the mud. And it’d be all my fault.

When Jean had told me to behave myself with Sine, she hadn’t meant this, but if she found out what happened, she’d kick me to the curb. She’d always been so proud that I wasn’t one of those asshole artists who kept needing to be bailed out of jail. And while my sexual preferences for BDSM weren’t public knowledge, I didn’t try to hide my membership at Gilded Cage either. I was neither a recluse nor a partier, neither a serial romancer or a life-long bachelor. I didn’t see myself in the tabloids, and I liked it that way.

While I waited to see if Sine would show up, I brought out the photos from our session Friday night and spread them out on the floor so I could see them in relation to each other. I was kneeling next to a particularly evocative one when I heard the door open. I made myself count to ten before raising my head, not wanting to appear too eager to see her. I didn’t want her to get the wrong idea.

“I didn’t realize you’d taken so many of them.”

She wasn’t looking at me, but rather at the pictures, giving me the opportunity to study her without being obvious about it. She didn’t look any different than she had on Friday, except she was back to a pair of dress slacks and a nice blouse rather than her sundress.

“I’ll let you know if I need you to answer any emails personally,” she said as she turned to go. “Your coffee’s on the table.”

“Do you have anything planned for this afternoon?” I sat back on my heels and ignored the voice in the back of my head telling me this was an imprudent idea. To say the least.

“Nothing specific.” Her eyes met mine for a moment, her cheeks growing pink before she glanced away, focusing instead on the cup she held in her hands.

“I’d like you to model for me again.” I rose to my feet but went for my coffee instead of going to her like my body wanted to.

In the silence that followed, a hundred thoughts ran through my mind, everything from her stomping out in a huff, to her calling the cops, to her taking that to mean I wanted her in my bed. The memory of what she felt like made my stomach tighten, but I knew it couldn’t happen again. Once could be written off as an impulsive mistake. Twice...that would be the start of a pattern I didn’t want.

“I would be open to that,” she said slowly, her finger tracing around the lid of her cup. “But we need to have some rules in place.”

I nodded, took a long gulp of my iced cafe latte before speaking. “That’s a good idea. Did you have anything specific in mind?”

“Two.”

I blinked. If she had two rules ready so quickly, it meant she’d already been thinking about this. I was surprised but not displeased.

“It has to stay professional between us,” she said, her voice steady. “What happened the other night, it can’t happen again. I’m your assistant, and you’re my boss. A model and photographer. Nothing more.”

I nodded, relieved that she wasn’t going to blow things up because of a moment of shared weakness. “I want the same thing.”

“And no nudity,” she said, eyes darting up to my face again. “It doesn’t matter that you’ve already seen...” She lifted her chin. “I won’t be doing anything like that.”

“Agreed.”

She nodded once and then turned away. “I’ll let you know when I order lunch, and we can get started after that.”

I couldn’t have hoped for a better outcome, I thought as I watched her disappear into her office. No awkward silences or wondering what the other one was thinking. No worries that she’d gotten the wrong idea, no demands or threats of legal action. It should have been everything I could have wanted.

Then why did the thought of touching her again after lunch make me feel elated? That I’d have a reason to feel her soft skin against my palms. That every single idea I had for today’s session morphed into what it would be like to tie her up, pose her, not for photographs, but so that I could lose myself in her again.

She was right to want this to stay professional, but I wasn’t so sure of my own motives anymore.