Dallas
An hour-long run later and Britain is nowhere near ready for me. I shouldn’t have even gone in and checked to see if she was, because now I can’t get to the front door again.
“So I heard you were a grad student,” a red-head says, twirling her hair around her finger.
She and her friends have me cornered. Literally. My back is pressed against the wall. Not only that, but I’m moping the sweat off me with my balled up t-shirt. I’m sure I reek.
“I… uhh… yeah.”
She flashes her perfectly white teeth while her friends ooh and ahh. “That’s so hot. What’s your major? I’m business administration.”
“I’m… bio. Biology. I do research.”
Her eyes light up. “So you’re going to be a doctor?”
Fuck me. I hate having this conversation with ugly people, let alone ten gorgeous women.
“No, no. Not a doctor.”
“Dallas!” Britain barks. “Get your ass over here.”
Thank God.
“Excuse me,” I say. The girls’ faces fall as I push past them, and I hurry over to my photographer.
“Jesus, it’s like you’re a puppy at a kindergarten birthday party.”
I relax my shoulders. “Can you hide me?”
“Yeah, but bro, you smell terrible.” She looks toward the bathroom. The door is open and girls are literally pouring out of it as they attempt to do their makeup. “I never do this, but I like you, and, like all these bitches here, think you’re kind of cute.” From the pocket of her jeans she pulls out a key and dangles it in front of her. I take it. “This is to the actual house portion of this place. Use the bathroom upstairs—there are towels above the toilet. Lock it up when you’re done, and don’t fuck around with anything else. Got it?”
I grin. “Yes, Ma’am.”
“And don’t ever call me that again.”
“So by fucking around, you mean I can’t stay over there, right?”
“Am I not speaking English?”
“I just have a lot of homework to get done.” I glance at the herd of models in the corner. The red-head winks at me while the two behind her whisper back and forth to each other. “It’s kind of impossible to work in here.”
“Oh, God. Kid, just ignore them. You’re not that cute.” Then she laughs and says, “Okay, you do look terrified. There’s a private makeup and dressing room for Delilah and Rylan. I think Rylan’s the only one using it right now. You can probably camp out behind the clothing racks and do some algebra.”
“Biology. You can’t get a master’s in Algebra.”
“Whatever.”
I smile. “Thanks.”
“I’m only nice to you because you take good photos, you know,” she says. But then she smiles back.
Britain is kid of a badass to work under.
I unlock the door to the living quarters part of the house and slip inside.
The lock clicks behind me and I’m wondering if I stepped through the right door.
The living room isn’t like one belonging to four college girls. The shit in here is nice. The kitchen countertops are marble and the appliances are brand new. The couches in the living room are leather, and the desktop computer is easily worth a couple grand. Instead of half-naked posters of the EPE girls covering the walls, the space is decorated with framed photographs—urban pictures of L.A. and Boston and Chicago, from whole cityscapes to exchanges on the streets. New York’s skyline and Detroit’s downtown coffee shop.
If I were to walk in here without knowing, I’d think that a rich middle-aged man lived here alone.
Don’t fuck around, said Britain. Right.
I follow her instructions, heading up the stairs. She said the second door on the left was the bathroom. I walk past the first door on the right, and stop.
The room is decorated in purple and black. A few framed photos scatter the walls, along with a poster of a band I’ve never heard of. The bed is unmade. Biology textbooks and nonfiction are stacked on the computer desk and plywood bookshelf.
This is Rylan’s… this is Evan’s room.
Something comes over me… an urge to crawl into her bed and wait for her to find me there.
Snap out of it, Dallas.
I told Tricia last night when I got home—when she finally had the time to listen to me—about the shoot, and the amount of time I was going to have spend touching, licking, kissing these models. She seemed totally unfazed. If it helps you concentrate better, just pretend that you’re single when you walk into the studio. Pretend you have no obligation to stay loyal to me.
I’m sure that, if any guy heard my girlfriend tell me this, they’d think I was the luckiest man in the world. So why don’t I feel lucky? The fact that she’s cool with me acting single in the midst of all these gorgeous, naked women makes me sick to my stomach.
But it’s not real. It’s just for show… just for money. I have to remember that.
I leave Evan’s room and shower in a bathroom decorated like the ocean. I pull on my shorts and head back to the studio. Some models have created a makeup station by the door and look at me funny when I pull out Britain’s key and lock it.
“Is he fucking one of the full-timers?” I hear one of them whisper as I walk past. Great. This is how rumors start.
Not wanting to be subject to model stares any longer than I have to, I find my bag that’s been buried under a pile of clothes next to the front door and head to the VIP changing room. The door’s closed. I knock.
“Come in,” Evan says.
I push open the door and pause. She probably wasn’t expecting me. I should leave. But before I can, she glances at me in the mirror and says, “Hurry up, you’re letting all of the heat out.”
Like she has no shame at all that she’s almost naked.
I close the door, letting my bag fall to the floor.
Her curls rolls down her back, wild and perfect to drag my fingers through. Her cleavage spills from the top of her baby blue, frilly bra. And her panties expose just enough of her firm ass that I have a hard-on in seconds.
Goddamnit. Not now.
The worst thing in the world is having a boner while trying to finish biology homework.
And she acts like there’s nothing weird about this. Just another day at the office.
“Does Britain need me or something?”
I hold up my book. “I just need a quiet place to keep my sanity.”
She continues to powder her face. “This place’ll be yours in a bit. Britain wants to start my shoot soon.”
Fuck. Homework is hard enough to do in the studio in the first place, but she’s going to leave me hot and bothered? I might as well not even try.
I take a deep breath. It’s okay. Just play single in the studio.
Just play single.
“You need an audience?”
She pauses in applying her mascara, looks at me in the mirror, and laughs. “Oh, Dallas. I won’t be cruel because you’ve never been here on a mass photography day. But trust me, I’ll have an audience.”
My eyes lock onto hers. “What, a bunch of girls who’re insanely jealous of you?”
She scoffs. “Jealous of my position in EPE, maybe. But that’s all. They see my success and study my shoots so they can copy them. Trust me, most of these girls think they’re way hotter than I am and could do a better job.”
I can’t remember when I started walking toward her, but I can’t stop. My eyes don’t leave hers. “And you think they have a chance at performing better than you?”
“Even if they did, Britain would never demote me.”
I stop right behind her. Her eyes widen as I place my hands on either side of the counter surrounding her. “That’s not what I asked you.”
She opens her mouth to respond, but when no noise escapes, she bites her lip. Finally, after seconds of silence, she changes the subject by asking, “Why do you want to watch my shoot?”
I lean in close to her ear, strawberry-scented locks brushing against my nose. “To study you. I need to know how to move with you if you’re going to be writhing under me for the next month or so.”
I watch her jaw drop in the mirror. She spins around until she’s facing me, back pressed against the counter, and says, “Are you for real?”
I hunch until my face is level with hers. Her quick breath smells like spearmint. I cock an eyebrow and say, “What do you think?”
The door opens behind me, and Britain yells, “You’re up, Ry.”
Evan bites her bottom lip again, teeth sinking into plump, glossy flesh. “Then watch,” she says.
I push away from the counter and she slides from me, hips swaying as she walks toward the door. She doesn’t look back.
Damnit. Homework is so not getting done today.
I hurry after her.
^^^^
Evan wasn’t lying. The pool deck is packed with people. Britain’s barking for people to stay on one end of the patio so they don’t block her shot. I don’t listen to her, heading to the other end, to the lounge chair that Evan and I posed on the other day. Britain doesn’t say anything, maybe because she notices the herd of models with watering mouths eyeing me like prey.
And I seriously need my privacy when watching Evan.
She steps into the pool, slowly dunking her whole body beneath the surface of the water. When she climbs back onto the patio, her soaked lingerie clings to her, and I can see everything.
Ev-ery-thing.
Actually, a whole shit ton of people watching can see everything, and that doesn’t even faze her. Britain flips her blonde braid to the side and instructs Evan to lie on the ledge of the pool so her feet are facing me. As soon as Evan does so, Britain kneels and starts adjusting her lens.
Evan raises her hands above her head until her perfect tits are the fullest they can be, her nipples straining against the wet fabric of her bra. She arches the small of her back and lets her head fall back.
Oh fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Without being too conspicuous, I place my fists in my lap and lean forward.
Evan spreads her legs just enough for me to see the way her underwear clings to the inside of her thighs, just enough so I can see the outline of her slit.
“Perfect, Rylan. Now bring more innocence to your eyes.”
I force myself to pry my eyes away from her to look at the models on the other end of the pool. Most of them stand in groups, whispering back and forth to each other, all of them in their lingerie get-ups.
None of them coming anywhere near to Evan’s sex appeal.
She flips on her stomach and raises her ass in the air, craning her head to the side so she’s staring right at the lens.
The models’ whispers flutter frantically through the air, and I hope to God they won’t be watching when I’m shooting with Evan.
I want her all to myself.
^^^^
I’m able to catch her before she heads back to change. Luckily I remember to call her Rylan. The name thing is going to be hard to get used to.
“Follow me to the dressing room,” Evan says.
“Why? What’s up?”
“I don’t like the way these models are looking at both of us. Like you’re the meat and I’m the bitch that’s hoarding it.”
I laugh until I realize she isn’t joking, letting my head drop and following her to the dressing room. When I close the door behind me, she lets the towel fall. She might as well not be wearing anything.
She crosses her arms. “Well? What do you want?”
“To study with you tonight.”
No, I just want to spend time with her when both of us aren’t being gawked at. Which isn’t something I should want. I shouldn’t want to spend time with my gorgeous coworker when I have a girlfriend, a girlfriend who told me I could only act single inside the studio.
She scoffs and turns away from me. “I told you. We can’t be seen together. I know a lot of models like the attention that EPE gives them, but I don’t, okay?” She reaches behind her and takes off her bra so I’m staring at her naked back.
My mouth goes dry. I swallow. “There’s this cool coffee shop an hour outside town in an old strip mall. There’s no chance of anyone recognizing you there.”
She slips an oversized t-shirt over her head and glances back at me. “And why the hell would I want to do that?”
I smirk. “Because I know what Professor Gates is planning to cover on the midterm.”