PART TWO
SO I WAS standing in Shane Sanders’s kitchen, mostly naked, definitely vulnerable, in a moment that should have felt like heaven. Instead, his revelation brought me to my knees. “I, uh…I have a girlfriend.”
I felt pain in my heart, an ache that didn’t feel earned because I barely knew the guy. I’d never done something like this before, abandoning all sense of decorum, fucking a total stranger, simply because we’d been unnaturally put in a position where our sexual imaginations had gone wild.
But, whether or not the hurt in my heart should have happened, it was real. Shane’s little revelation felt like a knife in my chest…and I couldn’t find any words.
“I’m sorry, Ivy. I should have told you before.”
Why was he telling me now? I was getting ready to leave, and had he not said a word, I never would have known any better—because no matter how I was feeling after coupling with this man, I knew the headiness and rush of climax would wear off soon enough and I’d realize none of what had happened to us was realistic.
But he was making it real.
He must have seen all that on my face. “Ivy, I don’t do shit like this—and I’m not a cheater.”
“Yeah, you are. You just told me you are.”
He closed his eyes, nodding. “I am now. But what I’m trying to tell you is I’ve never done this before.” Oh, the true words of a cheater. I’d heard this song before. “What happened between us today convinces me that I need to break up with her. We weren’t compatible anyway—I knew that already—but I was trying. And now I see how stupid that is.”
I’d heard similar stories to that one, too. I needed to just get the hell out of there and collect my thoughts. The problem was he’d been my ride here, but I had no desire to spend any more time with him than I had to.
Why couldn’t I say anything? Why weren’t the words coming out? My tongue was frozen.
Because I was hurt, and I was afraid of revealing that.
So I let my emotions turn to anger, twist into something else I had no problems exposing. The venom in my voice was unmistakable. “I don’t understand why you’re telling me. This was a one-time thing, so it doesn’t really matter to me. I don’t need to know.” I yanked up my panties while looking for my bra. I needed to cover myself up because that alone would help me feel stronger.
He got close then, effectively pinning my body against the island, and he stroked my cheek with the back of his fingers. “This is stupid, Ivy. I…shouldn’t be feeling anything for you, but I do. And I want to see you again—so I knew I needed to be honest.”
My heart felt like it was being squeezed in a vice and I just needed to get the hell out of there—so I could regroup, find myself, feel like normal. Too much had happened too fast, and I felt confused and hypersensitive. I couldn’t trust myself right now.
“Maybe you should have been honest before.”
“I…I don’t know what came over me. Didn’t you feel it, too?”
Was he talking about the crazy attraction, the undeniable desire I’d been experiencing all afternoon in his presence? Or was he touching on the deeper, stranger feeling that had come over me while we’d been in the middle of our animalistic lovemaking?
And did I dare trust myself to talk about it?
Hell, no. “Look, Shane, none of that matters.” Ah, my cold intellectual self was taking over. Good. I needed that part of myself right now. “What happened happened, but do you see me ever trusting you after something like this?” Pulling myself away from his grasp, I affixed my bra, but I forced myself to keep my eyes connected to his. I had to know he was getting the message. “There is nothing here to salvage, Shane, so your little confession served no purpose except to ease your conscience. So mission accomplished.”
“Ivy—”
“No, you don’t get to say anything else.” I touched my index finger to his lips—a mistake, but one I hoped I could recover from. I had to leave now before he could see the bleeding of my figurative wound. I needed to hide somewhere, tend to it, help it begin to heal, and only then could I trust myself to say anything unemotional or safe. I’d managed to do okay thus far, but the longer I was here, the more likely I was to do something I’d regret—like cry or beat on his chest or break something.
I found my camisole and pulled it over my head. So far, he was obeying my last command, that of shutting up. It felt tense and awkward in there but it was better than talking. I could smell the strength of the freshly brewed coffee in the room and I had the fleeting thought that I could use a cup right about now…but no way were Shane and I going to have a friendly mug of Joe together now. In fact, I knew it would be best if I never saw the man again…ever.
Jeans, boots, purse, jacket. I was ready to go. A tiny piece of my heart—the melodramatic girly part I’d buried since beginning more intellectual pursuits—wanted to say something like “Have a nice life” or “Good luck with your girlfriend,” but the rest of my heart, the part that was hurting, barely managed a goodbye as I walked out the door. He actually held it open for me, his jeans zipped so that if a neighbor passed by, he wouldn’t be accused of indent exposure, but he had to try to be a gentleman one last time. “You sure I can’t give you a ride back to your car?”
My lips pursed, I shook my head violently before storming down the hall, and I was barely in the elevator when the tears that had been threatening finally began to fall.
* * *
The good thing about a long walk is it clears your head like nothing else can. Even in the city where you’re surrounded by cars, noise, advertising, concrete, and gas fumes, the motion helps you think. And by the time I reached my car, I had blisters on my heels but I also had resolve. I would cry no more tears over this man Shane whom I hadn’t known before today and would never see again, except maybe on the cover of a book.
And, as the days passed by and I got back in the groove of my structured life, I managed to convince myself that what had happened that day had not only been a fluke, but it was almost like Shane and I been under the influence. Greg’s camera, his words and direction, the poses—they all figured into this weird scheme where we engaged in behavior unlike ourselves. Well, I could say that for myself at least. I couldn’t speak for Shane, but if he was anything like me, he would say the same thing.
So distance from the event gave me several things—perspective, control over my emotions, assurance that I hadn’t completely lost my mind, and forgiveness. I let go of the anger I felt at Shane for betraying not only his girlfriend but even me by not telling me the truth immediately. And I also forgave myself—for my crazy behavior, for doing something I never would have thought I was capable of.
Then I got on with my life. Work and school and “regular” modeling gigs got me back in the swing of things. But, just as I was settling in and feeling like things were back to “normal,” the rug was pulled out from underneath me. Typical.
Only it wasn’t as bad as I make it sound.
Greg called me a few months later for another shoot. It was the middle of summer—hot and dry, the perfect time for a shoot in one’s underwear, provided the AC wasn’t cranked up so high inside his studio that it felt like winter anyway. I agreed to the shoot but made up my mind that I would tell him before signing the contract that my bra was staying on. My integrity and my heart couldn’t afford another episode like last time. I knew, looking back, that having my bra off wasn’t the only thing playing into what had happened that day. It was more the fact that I’d found Shane irresistibly attractive…and the feeling had been mutual.
Having my bra off hadn’t helped, though…and if I didn’t put my foot down now, I could see Greg asking for more. After all, I hadn’t been posing for him for that long in the grand scheme of things. For all I knew, this was how he operated—slowly getting his models to do more and more compromising things for the sake of “art” and reaping the benefits. It didn’t matter that he’d paid me more; it wasn’t something I wanted to get in the habit of doing. Last time, my nipples had been hidden from the camera; would Greg ask for more next time?
That was why I had to draw the line. If he wanted me as a model, he would do it.
But he beat me to instigating that conversation. After I arrived in his lobby, twenty minutes early so I’d have plenty of time to chat, he said, “Ivy, I sensed that things were pretty strained by the end of the shoot, so I think—for now, anyway—I’m going to have you leave your underwear on.”
“I’m glad you brought that up, Greg. I think that needs to be a permanent rule for me. It’s out of my comfort zone.” He nodded but I wanted to make it perfectly clear. “If that’s the kind of model you need, I’m going to have to bow out.”
He looked a little sheepish. “I don’t know that I need that kind of model…but we got some great shots last time, shots that couldn’t have happened without your help. So thanks.” We started walking back into the studio area. “I don’t know if you’ve been paying attention, but Shane’s star is on the rise.”
I wanted to pretend like those few hours of my life had meant nothing and say, Shane who? But Greg was no dummy and I wasn’t a very good actress, so I’d skip the make believe. I was finding it irritating that Greg couldn’t drop that last shoot, though. I wanted to move on, put that all behind me, and he was forcing me to think about it more. I shook my head. “I didn’t know.”
“Yeah, those pictures. You know, we did the ones outside—that was the one that had been requested. But it was the indoor shots I put on my website for purchase that got everyone’s attention. And they’re being snatched up like hotcakes. Shane’s become a bit of a hot commodity. Authors have been fawning all over the photos of the two of you, and based on their response to the new kid on the block, I did a couple of solo shots with him and paired him with a couple of other females, too.” He smiled. “There was a request for him to be on an M/M cover, but he’s not ready for that yet. It’s one of those mindset things, you know?” We stood in the middle of the space, but Greg started fiddling with one of the tall lights, adjusting the height and moving it to another position. “I have plenty of men who are willing to do that, so the authors’ll just have to settle.”
Why was he telling me this? Yes, it was news to me, but why should I even care?
“In fact, he’s finally hired an agent…so this’ll probably be my last shoot with him.”
Okay…there it was. The big reveal. Why hadn’t I seen that one coming? “Wait…Shane’s the other model today?”
Greg stood and cocked his head. “Yeah, I didn’t tell you that?”
I felt my teeth clenching and I had to forcibly relax so I could answer. “Nope. You failed to mention that.”
“Yeah—he specifically requested you for this shoot.”
Good thing I hadn’t put my purse down.
Or signed the paperwork yet.
“Sorry, Greg. I’m going to have to pass.” For my sanity. For my heart. For what little dignity I had left.
“Are you kidding, Ivy? Your chance to work with someone—”
I felt the venom rising and I wanted to spit it right at him. He was getting ready to talk about Shane’s sudden fame and ask why I didn’t want a part of that. Obviously, those same people who’d seen Shane had seen me, too, and they weren’t going nuts over me—and that was fine. But Greg seemed to forget that I was only in this for the money—and it wasn’t a permanent thing. Once I’d defended my dissertation and found my way into my dream job, this pay-the-bills one would be a thing of the past.
I stuck my finger out, letting Greg know his arguments wouldn’t be effective. “Sorry. If I’d known, I would have told you no earlier.” I turned on my heel and began walking toward the front.
“What if I doubled your usual fee?” I hesitated then. He was offering me an obscene amount of money and had already promised I could leave my bra on. I would be an idiot to pass that one up. And he knew it, based on how I’d stopped in my tracks.
I couldn’t say no. Not yet. Not with double the money and a guarantee of nothing compromising. My nest egg had been growing considerably over the past year, enough that I knew my student loans wouldn’t be a concern as long as I kept up the earning pace. So I turned around and decided to just get it over with. I’d sign the damn paper, feeling like I was giving up my soul, but I’d just do it. I walked to the table and found the contract with my information already printed in the blanks. Greg smiled and pulled it toward himself before I could touch it, scratching out the amount written for payment and doubling it, writing his initials beside the number. He then signed at the bottom before sliding it back to me, holding the pen toward me until I took it. As I scrawled my name on the other line, self-loathing simmering in my chest, I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. I let out a long sigh as I set the pen down and asked, “Why Shane?” I wanted to follow it up with Why not any other guy? After all, I’d had plenty of shoots with lots of other men and had always managed to keep my cool; in fact, a good many of them I hadn’t even had to work at maintaining my composure. Shane, though…and maybe part of it was because he’d been new. He hadn’t known how to act.
Ah, but I couldn’t blame it all on him. I, too, had my part in all that shit.
But that was all processing in the back of my brain while I looked at Greg, waiting for an answer. But the reply came from behind me instead of from Greg. “Because I requested you.”
I felt a shiver crawl up my spine. I knew that voice. It was a lovely tenor timbre, one that made a variety of emotions charge through every fiber of my body in a matter of seconds. The animal part of me felt hungry in so many ways—lustful, yes, but also angry to my core, ready to rip that man apart. If anyone had asked me the day before how I felt about Shane Sanders, I would have given them what I’d have thought was an honest answer—hot guy, but kind of a jerk. Deep down, I knew I’d felt some weird unspoken connection with him, but I’d since attributed that to desire and being put in an unnatural situation. I was beginning to feel the same kind of love/ hate for modeling as well. Six months ago, I would have said it was the best thing that had happened to me but now…now I felt like Daniel Webster’s farmer. Did that make Greg the Devil? It would explain why I felt like I’d completely sold out.
I had. And now I was paying for it.
I didn’t turn to look at him. My brain was instead processing a hundred questions all at once. Why? That was the main one. Why me? Why couldn’t he just let me bury that part of my past, forget it, and move on?
But there was also one question for myself: Why did a part of me feel warm and special—satisfied, even, that Shane had chosen me over any other woman he could model with?
I was not going to have that conversation in front of Greg. After the shoot, we could either hash it out on the sidewalk or I could invite Shane for coffee this time—for real coffee in a coffee shop—and we could discuss what had happened. Part of me wanted to know how he’d grappled with what had happened, because I’d felt terrible guilt and shame—in fact, it was lingering now and I wouldn’t have known that until this moment.
For now, though, I was going to be professional. I wasn’t going to air our dirty laundry in front of Greg. As I turned to face Shane for the first time in months—for the first time since I’d stormed out of his apartment—I forced myself to be cool and calm. Cold even. I had to shut off all emotion, or I’d never survive this shoot. Inside, I was a boiling cauldron, a raging volcano simmering, ready to erupt.
But I couldn’t let either of these men know it.
I took a deep breath as I pivoted my body, and I allowed my eyes to meet his. Ah, they were still the most beautiful shade of verdant green I’d ever seen in a man’s face. And his skin was darker now, no doubt thanks to the summer sun. His facial hair was gone, and I never would have guessed how much hotter it would make him look.
Dammit.
I was already feeling my cold outer shell thawing and I had to resolve to keep it that way. When I heard the pitch of the words that exited my mouth, I knew I was at least doing a good job acting icy. “Then I suppose thanks are in order.” I nodded, hoping the gesture alone would serve as my gratitude. More than ever, I realized I just had to get this over with and consider it another lesson learned. Next time Greg called me up for a shoot, I either had to turn him down or ask if I was modeling with someone else and, if so, what that person’s name was. For now, though, the ink was dry and I had to tough it out.
Acting was a huge part of modeling. I could do this.
Shane, with a matter-of-fact tone in his voice, said, “We look good together.” He sauntered over to the table and I backed away a bit. I’d have to be up close to him soon enough. His eyes were on the paper when he added, “I don’t know if Greg told you, but the modeling career has taken off for me…taken me in some incredible places.” He turned then, looking me directly in the eyes, and I realized then that I was still too close. I could feel a magnetic draw to him, but I kept my walls up. “Since there are lots of eyes on me right now, I thought I could get attention on you if we posed together again.”
Oh, thank you, Shane, for giving me that ammo. I needed a toehold to fight up and over this mountain, and he’d just provided it. “I don’t plan to model for the rest of my life. Once I finish grad school, I won’t be in front of a camera again.”
Shane, however, was unfazed. “But why, Ivy? You look so damn good.” He lowered his voice and, for a split second, I forgot Greg was there…even forgot I was angry with this man. “You’re beautiful. And someone like you the world loves to look at. It’d be a damn shame for you to give that up.”
But then I realized he was just a flatterer. He was getting under my skin—the last thing I needed today. I had to regain my composure—and fast. “I have a hell of lot more to offer the world with my brain. I’d much rather help students unlock their potential and view the world differently. Beauty fades, and I know I’m not going to look like this in thirty years. And thirty years from now, the photos I’m in won’t matter anymore—but the good I do in the classroom could persist for a lifetime…or more.” Oh. The dreamer in me had emerged—the young idealistic girl who’d wanted to teach from the moment it had entered her head as a kid. The vision had remained and, as an undergrad, I’d seen the potential, thanks to some inspirational professors instilling hope and passion inside me. That enthusiasm had long since faded, thanks to bills and deadlines and figuring out how to make it in life, but it was still in there. I’d had no idea. And it was that feeling that propelled me to do what was necessary to get through the day.
Shane shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
I refrained from frowning. Based on his reaction, he was playing calm and collected, too. Good. That would make things much easier. “So what first, Greg? What do you need?” He hadn’t told me any specific clothing to wear, so I’d just assumed it was an underwear shoot. I was wearing a lacy red Victoria’s Secret bra-and-panty set, something I’d owned for a while. I hadn’t bought anything new for Greg’s photo shoots in some time, but this was one I hadn’t worn for him, so it was good enough.
Probably a mistake, though, now that I knew who my partner would be.
“Let’s just say the photos of the two of you are now bestsellers. And the ones that only show the bottom half of your faces seem to sell better than any other photos I have. The black-and-white versions sell even better than the color ones.” Well, that explained his willingness to pay extra.
But I was more than happy to communicate my displeasure. “Then let’s get it over with.” Two hours with a hot but lying, cheating bastard and a money-grubbing photographer weren’t my idea of fun.
“All right. I want to start with a few shots up against the wall over there.” I glanced over to the corner he indicated and saw that he already had lights set up. As Shane and I moved over there, I felt grateful that I wasn’t being forced to think. Just do. That was good. Keep me in motion; keep barking orders, and I’ll do all right.
The shots he did there were pretty generic. My back pressed against the wall, Shane and I had to look like we were in various states of passion. Fortunately, there was no actual kissing and only a little bit of eye contact. There was a lot of his lips on my neck.
And I felt a twitch. Dammit.
But then, just as I felt my resolve start to waver, Greg announced that we were moving on and, at that point, it was shirts off. To make a statement, I walked over to the changing area and stepped behind the screen. Silly, yes, but feeling vulnerable once more, I wanted the few moments of privacy. That minute while I unbuttoned my blouse was the perfect opportunity for my brain to relive the shame and humility I’d felt when Shane had revealed his secret. Not good. I needed to be emotionless for this, not wracked with guilt and negativity.
I had to shut that part of myself off. If that shit showed on my face, this shoot would be a disaster. So the last few seconds before I entered the room partially exposed I used to psyche myself up, much like I imagined an MMA fighter would do before what he knew would be a particularly brutal fight. A couple of deep breaths, finding my resolve, putting on my game face, and I was good to go.
The two hours went quickly but not with ease. It began again with a lot of close shots against a white background where our bodies touched, often not even leaving an inch between us. Whether we were facing each other or Shane was behind me holding me possessively (with various poses of his hand on my jaw, my neck, my belly, my breast, and the waistband of my jeans), we were close. The worst part near the end of that first stretch was when Shane was pressed up behind me, his hand on my jaw, his chin pressing against my face. His other hand was wrapped around my waist and damn it all to hell if that didn’t make me start feeling a little warm.
His hard body once more felt like it was made for me.
What did it was feeling his breath against my skin. Its warmth made my muscles tighten. Not good. Not good at all.
Just as I was sensing my inner strength weaken, Greg had us switch positions again. He had us move to the area of the room where he had the queen-size bed. At first, the poses weren’t bad. He had me take off my jeans (and I considered making a statement and running over to the screen again, instead opting to get it over with), and then he had Shane lie on the bed. He was propped up on a couple of pillows and I straddled him, per Greg’s request. I was still doing okay keeping myself in check, once more in control. But as we shifted and adjusted, mostly with Shane’s hand in various places on my back, I felt myself grow heated again.
What the hell was it about this man that fueled my fire?
My emotions swirling once more, Greg then had me lie on my back. He had Shane flip over and cozy up next to me, his arm around my waist, and we were to act like we were kissing. Greg adjusted the tripod and even got on a ladder, looking for the right angle and then, like a Hollywood director, he barked, “Action!” If I hadn’t been struggling so hard, I might have laughed.
But this was no laughing matter.
And, again, the problem with Shane was he wasn’t about to fake his kissing. Instead, it was like on a first date—a small couple of feathery kisses followed by a tentative touch of the tongue to my lips. There was no way I couldn’t respond. The kisses never grew deep but they were real, and my body—my brain, even—couldn’t help but react.
Yes, I kissed him back.
Slow, luxurious, tempting…I remembered the flavor of his mouth, and it made my pussy clench.
Just when it felt as though we might move into more dangerous territory—that of roaming hands and tongues—Greg said, “Great. Now we need to move to the bench.”
I’d never used the bench before. It was white and maybe a yard long, and Greg had it positioned up against a screen. Shane sat on the bench and Greg had me straddle Shane. Once more, we had to get all snuggly and touchy. Fortunately, it was pre-kissing and not the actual deed, but Greg had me put my hands on Shane’s jaw and neck and our mouths were mere millimeters from touching.
I knew we were nearing the end of the shoot, and I thought maybe we were done—with just enough time for me to save myself, because much longer and I’d be ready to spread my legs for this man again.
Unfortunately, that was exactly what Greg had in mind. We went back where we’d started, and Greg wanted my back against the wall again, but now that I was in nothing but underwear and Shane was shirtless, there was one final shot Greg wanted. He asked Shane to undo the button and zipper on his jeans enough that he could pull them down a bit—so it would look like we were engaged in sex or pretty damn close. The lights now were dimmer than usual—why, I didn’t know—but it added to the mood.
Oh, so not good.
We got into position—my ass hanging on the edge of a narrow table, Shane up close to me—while Greg barked out orders about how we needed to move because the shot wasn’t quite working from the backside where he was standing. It was a little awkward but getting a whiff of Shane’s cologne, my legs and arms wrapped around him was taking its toll.
My brain might not have wanted it, but my body remembered—and it wanted more. In that compromising, intimate position, that was all I wanted.
At last, Greg began his usual barrage of orders as he snapped one photo and then the next but then he cursed, muttering something about camera issues. “One moment. Hold your position.”
I wouldn’t let myself look up at Shane, instead focusing on his Adam’s apple. In my head, I could hear my mother’s old mantra, her voice uttering an old adage for whenever times got tough: This too shall pass.
Yes, it would, but what would I be like after passing through the fire once more?
Shane’s low voice—quiet so it was just for me—interrupted my thoughts. And it had the added effect of drawing my eyes to his. “A tad awkward.” I couldn’t help but give him an abbreviated chuckle and nodded. I was still smiling when he said, his eyes laser focused on mine, “I broke up with my girlfriend.”
There went the air from my lungs. What the hell was I supposed to say to that? Congratulations? But some words tumbled out of my mouth without much thought. “Good for you—and her. She deserves a man who wants to be with her.”
The light in his eyes faded and he grew serious. “Yeah, she does. I know you might not believe it, Ivy, but you were a symbol. A symbol of the new life I was craving, the new life I needed. Harper was part of the old. She represented everything I wanted to escape from. It was nothing against her. She’s really a sweet girl—and she does deserve someone more like her.”
What the hell was all that drivel even supposed to mean? I was still angry with him and his words felt like bullshit. But I couldn’t call him on it because Greg started snapping at us again. “All right, guys. Now, from here, I’m not believing it. You just look like two models who posed like that because I told them to. I need to believe you’re either fucking or getting ready to.”
I was pissed at Greg, too. So angry, so furious—and I couldn’t believe I was in this position again. I considered leaving right that second, weary of the way Greg talked to us constantly while in “work mode,” but I’d never breached a contract before. I didn’t know how much of a leg I’d have to stand on if I chose to walk out, especially at the very end. Honestly, Greg wasn’t asking me to do much more than he had in the past—and, to the best of my knowledge, he had no idea about what had transpired between me and Shane after the last time we’d posed together. The issues were mine.
Shane’s voice was low and sexy—and I felt another flash of ire over the fact that I found it so—when he murmured, “There’s only one way I know how to do that.”
My eyes darted upward again and Shane no doubt saw the fury in them, but it didn’t matter what he saw; it didn’t stop him from moving forward with his plan. His olive eyes were smoldering as his face got closer and he pressed his lips on mine before I could say a word. I knew what he was doing, and I also understood why. Shane had a hard time pretending in front of the camera—with me, at least—and so he decided to simulate what Greg was asking for.
I pressed my mouth closed in resistance.
Greg’s voice interjected. “A little better.”
Shane’s lower half moved closer to me and my heartbeat quickened in response. But it was when he actually ground himself into me that I actually gasped. I knew Shane was putting on a show for Greg, but I hadn’t expected dry humping.
Um, well, if he kept it up, it would be anything but dry.
But Shane took advantage of the fact that I’d opened my mouth in surprise and he planted on me a warm, luxurious kiss that made all the ice inside and around me thaw. I was still frozen, not responding as Greg had been demanding, but the man had shut up for a few moments. By the end of that damned kiss, though, I felt my fingers curling in Shane’s hair.
Holy shit. Who’d have thought?
I certainly would not have, particularly when I considered my emotions earlier, but here I was completely primed and ready to engage in full-on sex with this man.
Again.
“Ivy, that’s good with your hands, but can you move one of them to his back? Your red nails would look amazing digging into his skin.”
Only heaven knows how I managed to obey, because it was all I could do to concentrate—to remember that this was supposed to be pretend. My body couldn’t keep it together, though, as all the other parts of me responded. My nerves were on alert, my hairs standing on edge as I waited for takeoff.
I even heard a tiny mmmm in my throat.
My entire body was a traitor.
At this point, I didn’t know exactly what Shane was thinking, but he moved his lips to my neck. I dug my nails in again and heard Greg say, “Perfect. Keep going.”
Keep going? Did he want us to actually fuck?
That was where I’d draw the line. Right now, my panties were on (although they were now damp) and Shane’s underwear and jeans were on, but his cock was stiffening—I could feel it up against me, heating me up even more—and I might have gone farther than I should have, but I had to draw the line somewhere.
Yeah…hard to believe I still had principles at that point.
But I did.
I felt the last little bit of my brain screaming at me, and I was getting ready to call a halt to everything when I heard a long vibrating rrrrrring! It took me a moment to remember that it was a switch at the front counter, alerting Greg that someone was standing at the front counter, letting him know someone was waiting for him.
“Guess that’s a wrap. I have an appointment up front. Stop by the office on the way out for your payment.”
Seriously? That was it? After all we’d gone through, that seemed unceremonious. Unreal, even. But there was my chance. It was my only chance. I had to get the fuck out of Shane’s arms right this second, or we would give in to our basest desires, right there up against the wall. As if encouraging an old friend, I patted Shane on the chest before loosening my grip, ducking my head under his arms, and sliding off the table. “Good job.” Quickly, I traipsed over to the area of the room where I’d flung my jeans to the floor, snatched them up, and scooted to the screen. But I saw Shane out of the corner of my eye—and I didn’t dare look at him. No way.
“That’s it, Ivy? Now you’re just gonna run away from me?”
I swallowed and glanced over at him—mistake!—while taking one step behind the screen. “Why should I even trust you, Shane?”
“You can’t be serious.” In a second, he was at the side of the screen just as I’d stepped completely behind it. I could have pitched a fit, screaming invasion of privacy, but I was putting clothes on, not taking them off. It would have been silly and sophomoric and this was a subject that required me to behave like an adult, like it or not. So I kept my mouth shut, jutting out my chin and raising my eyebrows, in effect telling him I was completely serious, challenging him to answer my question. “Ivy, don’t you get it? When I met you, I was miserable. I fucking hated my life—everything about it. Not just the job or the student loans looming over my head or the people, including my girlfriend, that I associated with. I hated the person I had to pretend to be. You?” Why was my heart softening at his sorrowful soliloquy? “You represented my escape. I’d taken a chance at modeling, hoping I could find something different, and you were a beautiful symbol of that. Even if it didn’t work out, you represented my hope, my faith in the universe.”
Corny, yes, but it was tugging at my heartstrings nevertheless. My lips remained pursed, because I didn’t trust myself to say a word.
“Was making love to you while I was still with my girlfriend wrong? Yeah, technically, but I’d already left her the minute I’d committed to that first session. And she knew it. We’d argued about it. She’d told me I needed to find satisfaction in my job and apply for promotions, move up the ladder, get more involved. She wanted me to do the exact opposite of what I wanted to do. She was asking me to sell my soul. And she knew it. I wasn’t going to be the perfect corporate boyfriend anymore, and I think that scared her. But I wasn’t the guy for her. She knew it. She was trying to make us fit, and we didn’t. So, yeah, Ivy, I cheated on her, okay? I cheated on her. But I’d already left her in my mind…and, that night, we talked and we broke up. It was mutual. Hell, she’s with someone else already, better off for it.”
I felt like a heel then, like I hadn’t given him the benefit of the doubt, and that was because when I’d stormed out of his apartment that afternoon, I’d hardened my heart. I only thought of myself—of my humiliation and shame, of the lewd act I’d engaged in after our questionable photo shoot. But, when I dug deep, I knew Shane was the kind of guy who’d trip my trigger. Physically, he was amazing, from top to bottom, and any woman would die to be with a guy that hot. Now, though, he’d shown me his most vulnerable side, basically pulling apart his chest and yanking out his heart, thrusting it toward me and telling me to look at it—just look at it—and, seeing the suffering, seeing the beauty of struggle and knowing he was enjoying some success made me realize that I couldn’t question it. I couldn’t condemn him for wanting something better.
And now I also knew that maybe he wasn’t a smarmy, sneaky, snaky devil like I’d originally thought.
Maybe he was a good guy after all.
So, by the time I spoke, the ice around my heart had completely melted. My voice was soft. Nodding, I said, “I’m sorry, Shane. I didn’t know…about—”
He touched the bottom of my chin with his finger, urging me to look up at him. “Of course, you didn’t. That’s why I wanted to tell you.”
Those jade eyes of his…I was mesmerized, captivated. Frozen. Now willing to try once more.
My breath was shallow and I saw the rise of my chest as Shane’s head lowered toward mine. I knew then that I wanted to feel his lips on mine, wanted to taste the sweetness of his tongue in my mouth, needed to get lost in his arms. He brushed his fingertips along my jawline and I felt a simultaneous shiver travel down my spine, causing me to arch my back almost imperceptibly. As I took in another light breath, his fingers moved so that he cupped the back of my neck, his thumb touching the bottom of my ear, and the wetness in my panties told me how badly I wanted this man. I felt my lips part in anticipation of tasting him and I blinked once before closing my eyes.
That soft, sweet, slow, gentle kiss made my entire body feel like it was full of tiny bubbles, like I was brewing and ready to overflow. In essence, I was. Something inside was building, and this time, it felt like more than just the animalistic, lustful side of myself. This time, it felt like my heart and soul were completely committed too. Through that kiss, through my hands that began to slide up first his chest and then down his back, I was communicating something deeper, something that meant more than just a tawdry hop in the sack.
Oh, I wanted him, yes, but it wasn’t just a one-time thing anymore. It was more.
After a few seconds, I didn’t even think about where we were, because it felt as if time had stood still, as if the earth had stopped rotating on its axis just for these few moments we were together, and I felt the emotions and desire grow strong inside as they found their way through my kiss. In mere seconds, our kissing had become furious and passionate, needy and impatient. Shane slid the red strap of my bra down my shoulder and his fingers tickled my skin as he pulled the cup down with aching slowness while his lips touched my neck. But then he cupped my breast and flicked the nipple with his tongue, forcing a slow moan out of my mouth.
Yes, I was ready and I was ready now. How the hell had that happened so fast? I wanted—needed—to feel him inside me. Trailing my hands down his body, they met at the button on his jeans and I pulled it apart and drew the zipper down before working my way inside. It was hot in that little space and my hand could feel how electric and alive it was, his cock throbbing as if to the rhythm of pounding bass beat. I sensed that his urgency was in tune with mine, the need to join, the urge to be together and communicate without words, to say all the things we couldn’t find the phrases for, to feel a deeper emotion than what we’d expressed with our eyes and mouths.
The way his breathing changed told me he was as desperate as I, and he licked my cleavage before tracing a path back up my chest and neck and kissing me hard. My pussy was clenching against nothing but itself, yearning for him to fill me to capacity. Just as he’d done our first time together, he reached into his back pocket and pulled out his wallet to find a condom. It wasn’t long before he was rolling it up his length and I pulled my panties down in expectation.
The look in his eyes nearly wrecked me. Not only did they reflect his unbridled desire, but underneath that seemed to be a current of what I too was feeling deep down—something more, something lasting, one of connection, one that would be there long after our foreheads cooled and our hearts slowed. It accentuated not the ache between my legs but the one in my heart, the tiny hole there I hadn’t recognized till just that moment. My feelings for this man could fit inside that space, expand to overfill, and take over…and I knew that would be just fine. So when, a moment later, he entered me, causing me to shudder and moan and spread my legs as wide as they could go, I felt more than the animal inside. I felt a part of me awaken, something I hadn’t known was there, a foreign emotion that I knew would blossom as time went on.
He drove into me, satisfying my deep need for release, and with each wave, I experienced more—love, a need to connect, a yearning to know this man’s mind in addition to his beautiful body. As he continued to drive into me, I felt my senses heighten as my breathing quickened, but just as I felt my brain get ready to let it all go, I remembered where we were and fought against my innate desire to sing aloud. As my body shuddered and rejoiced in the sensation of pure pleasure, I managed to keep my mouth shut so that it let out low moans in my throat, still signaling to Shane that I was experiencing heaven but so that Greg and his visitor would have no idea what was transpiring in the bowels of the studio.
Coming to my senses, I realized Shane was experiencing his own climax as his undulations slowed. His hips were now in the vice created by my legs, fitting perfectly in that space, symbolizing to me that we were meant to be together—not just for the moment but for much longer.
Shane’s forehead rested on mine but his eyes were closed as the pace of his breathing neared normal. Unable to resist, I brushed my fingertips on his jaw, the emotions inside me boiling over, threatening to consume us both. This tiny act of affection I thought could keep those feelings at bay, if just for a moment.
He opened his eyes and what a relief for me to see that he seemed to be experiencing the same overwhelming emotion that I did. Gone was the studio, the shitty world outside, the mistakes we’d both made. All that mattered was here and now, him and me. Us. Bringing his lips to mine, we kissed, and it felt like his way of telling me that we were one now, that whatever happened from this point forward, we’d do together. I wound my fingers through the hair on the back of his head as I let myself swim in those waters, allowed myself to drown in those emotions, because I could no longer fight them.
“Wow.”
“Yeah.” He gave me a tiny affectionate kiss on the nose before relaxing his grip on me, helping my feet settle on the floor. “Guess we better get dressed before Greg comes looking for us.”
I nodded, pulling my bra strap up over my shoulder. It seemed surreal the way we dressed in that quiet cavern and made our way to the lobby together a few minutes later. Greg was still chatting with someone in his office, but he saw us and excused himself for a moment.
“Great shoot, guys,” he said, pulling a wad of cash out of his pants pocket and counting off several hundred dollar bills to first me and then Shane. A tiny part of me felt satisfaction that we were both paid equally, in spite of the fact that Shane was now a “star” in our tiny modeling community. I wouldn’t have balked had it been otherwise, but it was gratifying nonetheless.
As we walked toward the front door so Greg could return to his meeting, part of me wanted to grab Shane’s hand. But it felt too soon. It still didn’t seem real.
In retrospect, I was relieved that I hadn’t. He held the door for me and I walked through, still experiencing that floaty feeling inside, and I melted when he draped an arm over my shoulders. I leaned into his body, mirroring him by wrapping an arm around his waist, and he asked, “Where’s your car?”
“Around the corner.”
We paused once we got there and he gave me a soul-crushing kiss, his hands cupping my cheeks. But suddenly something didn’t feel quite right.
“Ivy, this was nice…”
The thud of my heart hitting the sidewalk told me to wake up, to pay attention and stop acting dreamy. “But?”
The relief I saw flood his eyes confirmed what I was feeling in the pit of my gut. “I don’t think I told you I had an agent.” I wanted to ask what the hell that had to do with anything, but I focused on breathing…just breathing. “She wants me to move to New York.”
I managed to repeat his words. “New York?”
“Yeah—that’s where the work is. If I’m gonna make this a career, I need to be where the big jobs are. She suggested a couple of other places but, really, New York is the place.” He must have seen how badly I wanted to object, because he added, “I can’t do the business thing, Ivy. It’s not in my blood. This, though? This I can do.”
I wanted to ask him how many other models he’d fucked…because he was fucking me right now. But instead I just let the world fall away from me as I realized I had to let this man go, just as I’d realized he was probably the only man for me.
Maybe I was destined to be alone. I just couldn’t believe he was dumping me before we’d even officially gotten together. Unbelievable.