Wild Temptation (3 page)

I open my mouth to speak but she snatches my purse and hits me with her gaze.

“Liv, shut up. We’re behind schedule.”

I close my mouth again and take my subtle telling-off.

“Sara. Underwear. What’s my color scheme?”

I sigh. Boy. Note to self: don’t ever be late when Nina is doing your makeup. She goes all stylist-zilla.

“Color scheme is sexy,” Clara announces, walking into the room.

“Sexy isn’t a color scheme, it’s a state of mind. You’re here to observe, not dictate, so sit over there on that sofa and keep quiet,” Nina snaps, nodding at Sara.

A laugh bubbles in my chest, but I swallow it down. Since I signed with Sheila at the Stone Agency a few months ago, I’ve been thrust deeper into the modeling world. I’m quickly learning that modeling is much like being at high school: judgment, whispers, and bitchiness are the things you encounter most.

I sit silently and let Nina and Dean turn me from a hungover flop to a walking wet dream. It takes them twenty minutes, and I breathe a small sigh of relief when they step back from me.

“Change,” Nina orders, shoving a black set of underwear and matching stockings my way.

“Where?”

“Change in the middle of the room if you want, honey. I don’t care.” She rolls her eyes. “Bathroom—through there.”

I follow the direction her finger is pointing and strip off. “Robe!” I yell.

A floating hand passes one through the crack in the door.

“Thanks,” I tell the hand, slipping it over my shoulders. I dump my clothes on the sofa when I reenter the room, and Clara stands.

“Finally. We can get started.” She waves a hand over her shoulder for me to follow. I bite my tongue so it remains in my mouth and follow her upstairs.

The cottage is cute. Quaint. Yet oddly stylish.

Clara raps twice on the door and pushes it open. “Tyler, are you ready? Our model is finally here.”

Oh, the urge to slap her…

“Yep. I’m ready.”

A shiver runs down my spine. I recognize that voice.
No.

I look over Clara’s shoulder as the photographer, Tyler, gets up, and turns to me.

Oh, shit. That’s not Tyler.

It’s Mr. Tall, Dark, Handsome, and Oh So British.

W
ell, this is awkward.

And I don’t mean nervous-giggle awkward. I mean turn-around-and-run-for-your-fucking-life awkward.

Recognition flashes in his dark eyes when he sees me. Heat flares briefly, too quickly for Clara to notice it, but slowly enough that I know I wasn’t imagining it.

That same heat flushes up my neck and colors my cheeks. Yep. This is going from bad to worse.

“Thanks, Clara. Shut the door on your way out.”

Alone?

“But—”

“Sheila knows I shoot alone. Get out and shut the door.” He’s talking to her but his eyes are focused on me. I lick my lips as Clara makes another half-hearted attempt to argue and he shuts her down once more.

I lick my lips as Clara makes another halfhearted attempt to argue and he shuts her down once more. I trace his face. His unruly, dark hair is swept to one side, keeping out of his equally dark eyes. His cheekbones are defined and his jaw is strong, angular. And his lips are…curved in amusement at having caught me staring at him.

The slam of the door jolts me back to reality. Kind of. I still have hot-man haze. I mean, crap.

“This is a turn of events I wasn’t expecting.” His accent is crisp and w
hat the hell is it about the British accent?

“Yep.” I fiddle with the belt on the robe. “It’s certainly a surprise.”

It’s not every day that your one-night stand becomes your photographer.

“At least there’ll be no…awkwardness.” He drops his gaze to my hidden body and I swallow. Oh, no. He’s definitely seen my body. And touched it. And licked it.

I shift uncomfortably. Nope. Not even going there.
Eyes off the bed please, Olivia.

“Let’s get unnecessary introductions out of the way, shall we?” He steps toward me.

My lips curl into a smile. “It’s not unnecessary if you don’t know the other person’s name.”

“Very true.” He told his hand out. “Tyler.”

Half intros it is, then.

“Liv.” I put my hand in his larger one. He pulls me against his hard body and settles his lips close to my cheek.

He pulls me against his hard body and settles his lips close to my cheek. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Liv.” His words are smooth like melted caramel, and I fight the urge to close my eyes at the easy sound.

A pleasure indeed.

Tyler steps back with a brush of his lips across my cheek. My hand instantly feels cold when he releases it, and I raise it to my hair before realizing that Dean will pitch a fit if I mess up these curls.

I drop my arm lamely, aware of Tyler’s eyes on me as he gets his camera. He looks at me for a long moment.

“Well?”

“Well what?”

“Are you taking off the robe? I can’t do a lingerie shoot without lingerie.”

My lips form a small ‘o.’ Of course I have to take off the robe.

Please, someone pinch me. This can’t be reality. I mean, I’m all for coincidences, but this puts the ‘fuck’ in ‘fucking joke.’

I turn away from him and slide the robe down. I hang it on the hook on the back of the door. I flex my fingers to rid the slight tremble there and spin back to face Tyler.

My breath catches at the way he looks me over so obviously. He’s completely unashamed as his gaze touches every part of my body in a way that makes shivers rocket up and down my spine until my skin is buzzing.

I cough and he looks up. He grins, unapologetic, and a dimple appears on his cheek.

“The shoot?” I question, drawing on every bit of strength I have inside me to deal with this.

“Are you ready to start?”

Nope. I’m ready to click my heels and see if I’ll magic the hell out of here.

“Yes. Where do you want me?”
Wrong question. Wrong question.

Something flickers in his eyes—lust. “On the bed.”

Wrong answer. Wrong answer.

I walk across the room and climb onto the bed. His eyes follow me the whole time, and I see him slowly raise the camera to his eye out of the corner of mine.

“I want you sitting in the middle of the bed, however is comfortable for you. I want some natural shots so I can see where to go from there.”

I nod once and exhale slowly. I take a moment to close my eyes and get into the place where I forget about the eyes on me. It’s hard in this instance when his gaze—even through a camera—is all I’m truly aware of.

Somehow, I get to a place where I feel like I can concentrate on this shoot. I fall into my usual rhythm, the freeness of my movements throwing it off a little. Usually, I’m told what to do, who to be, how to sit or lie or stand.

“Good, good…” Tyler mumbles. “There’s a glass of wine on the side. Use it.”

The sight of the red wine makes my stomach roll. Damn, I hate red wine.

Still, I wrap my fingers around the stem, lean back, and rest the glass on my thigh. The shutter clicks twice. After a few shots on the bed, including one with my lips firmly clamped as I tilt the glass up, I slide onto the floor.

I lean on the bed, the wine glass my focus, and the shutter clicks again. And again. Tyler comes closer, moves to the side, shoots down.

He instructs me in my movements now, pulling me from the sofa to the bed to the middle of the floor. Playful, sexy, brooding—we cover every emotion and pose possible.

“Move to the window,” he orders, taking the wine glass from me. “I want you sitting on the seat, one leg bent at the knee and the other stretched out. Put your back against the wall.”

I follow his instructions.

“Put one hand on your thigh, the other above your head. I want you to look out of the window. Imagine you’re waiting for someone to come home, someone you miss, and the lingerie is for him.”

I swallow.

“You need to think of nothing other than being intimate with him.”

My mind flashes back to him kissing his way down my stomach and parting my legs. His fingers rough, his touch desperate, his movements easy and controlled. His breath hot against my skin...

“Perfect,” he says in a voice lower than before. Lower and rougher.

My heart pounds in my chest fast enough that it’s capable of destroying my calm mask. I desperately want to run my tongue over my dry lips, and it flicks out before I can do anything about it.

“Now, imagine he’s home, and he’s walking up those stairs, and he’s opening the door. You turn to him.”

I turn my face and he’s standing right in front of me. His camera is resting on the chair, and the look in his eye destroys any hope of my heart calming.

It’s dangerous. It’s a desperate glint of wanting, and my chest heaves as he brings a hand to the side of my face. He lightly brushes his fingers down my cheek. They’re rough, rubbing along my skin as they hover at my jawline.

“What are you doing?” My words are a shaky whisper.

“I’m appreciating a beautiful woman.”

I swallow. Three times. “Your job is to do that behind the camera. Someone might come up.”

Tyler smiles. “They left half an hour ago, when you were trying not to drink that wine.”

I pause, my lips curving. “Clara left?”

He nods, curling his fingers under my chin and stroking my jaw with his thumb. “Yes. There are reasons I shoot alone. One of them is so I can take photos without any rules because I enjoy it.”

“So the last… Here… They were…?”

“For my benefit.”

“And we’re here. Alone?” Oh, this is not good.

He leans in and his breath tickles my lips. “Yes, Liv. We’re here alone.”

“This is unprofessional,” I say as my blood roars through my veins in a way that contradicts my words.

“We’re not working anymore,” he whispers, closing the distance between our mouths.

It’s a light touch, one I should barely feel but one I feel prickling all over my skin. The kiss is slow and sweet, and my hand betrays me by finding his shirt and fisting the material.

“Yep, this is very unprofessional.”

Tyler grabs my thigh and spins me to face him. With one hand in my hair and the other grasping my hip, he lowers his mouth to mine once more.

His lips work mine forcefully, sweeping me away to a place where I can’t think of the fact that I’m kissing a man I was never supposed to ever see again. His kiss is intoxicating, smothering me with desire and need.

And need is bad. Need is very, very bad, but no one tells my hands this as they find the bottom of his shirt. I tug at it lightly, and he grazes his teeth over my bottom lip.

“I thought this was unprofessional?” he whispers in amusement.

Oh, fuck this.
“We’re not working.”

He laughs, a rich sound, and releases me to remove his shirt. I trail my fingers down his lightly sculpted body until they rest on his belt. The bulge in his pants clearly shows his erection, and I reach out. I brush my hand across it, letting my fingers curl around its hardness. He hisses in a breath, grabs my arms, and pulls me to standing.

His arms go around me in a way that means I’m unable to move, and he kisses me once again. Whatever restraint he was holding just moments ago is gone as he tugs me across the room, his tongue exploring my mouth, and leans me back onto the bed.

“It’s so very hard to take photos of a woman when you can remember exactly how she tastes,” he whispers, kissing down my neck. “And it’s damn near fucking impossible when that taste has lingered in your mouth ever since.”

I arch into him as he takes one of my breasts in his hand and palms it lightly. Lightning bolts of desire shoot through my body as he works my bra and unclasps it. Almost immediately, his mouth closes around one of my nipples and he rolls the other between his finger and thumb. The tugging and pulling is an intense feeling, and every muscle in my pussy clenches.