"Because of my tits."
"Because you're beautiful and passionate, and yes, because you post photos revealing those two things online." I take another step toward her. "You didn't tell me."
"You already knew."
"You weren't aware of that."
"I suspected." She swallows hard. "Why else would you hire me?"
So I am obvious. "You've been daring me on purpose."
"It worked."
"That makes it right?"
"You kissed me and ran away."
"So you dare me to fuck myself to your image?"
Her pupils dilate. "Did you?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Too many times to count."
Her tongue slides over her lips. "Before…"
Before we met in person. "Yes. You were the first… the first person after the accident. The only."
Her chest heaves with her inhale. "The only person you thought of? Really?"
"Really."
"Fuck, Adam. Are you seriously going to tell me that and stay all the way over there?"
"Where should I be?"
"Naked, on top of me."
A laugh spills from my lips.
"It's not a joke."
"Then ask." My eyes meet hers. "Ask me to fuck you."
"Fuck." She stands. Looks me in the eye. "I will. After this."
No. Now. No more talking. No more discussion of this terrifying possibility. I need to be in a place that makes sense. The only place that makes sense.
"I've felt guilty. Manipulative. I need to feel something else." She offers her hand. "We both knew. Neither of us said anything. We're even."
We're not even. She's on far higher ground than I am. Even if we both fucked this up, she's an artist trying to support herself, trying to develop her passion.
I'm a rich asshole using her for my benefit.
I'm paying handsomely.
I'm trying to be careful with her.
But does that really justify my actions?
"Adam." Her eyes flit to her hand. "Do we agree?"
"Not to hold our dishonesty against each other?"
"Yes."
"You should ask for more."
"Why?"
"Because you can."
"Okay. Then I'll forgive you if you let me take your picture."
"Mine?"
She nods. "Of you. And with me. You can stay in your clothes."
Fuck, there's no backing out if I agree here. I'm a man of my word. I honor my promises, whatever it takes.
If I say yes, I have to follow through.
I have to put myself on display for the entire world.
"Deal," I say.
What the hell have I gotten myself into?
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Adam
Danielle illuminates the room with her smile.
The entire apartment.
The world.
"You can start in your suit. In fact, I want to keep you in your suit the entire time," she says. "If you're moved to strip, I won't stop you, but the vision is you in the suit. And me in less and less."
Fuck.
"You can approve the final photos," she says. "But you can't look during the shoot. Tell me if you're uncomfortable with something or if you want to stop. Otherwise, try it, take the photo, see how it turns out. If you don't like it, I promise I'll delete it."
"Are you this gentle with all your models?"
"You're my first." She wraps her hands around her mug of coffee and brings it to her lips. "I'm the only model I can afford."
"Have you posed for someone else?"
"You don't know?"
"I didn't want to imagine you naked in front of some asshole's camera."
"Even if it was for art?"
I nod.
"You were already jealous?"
"Yes."
"Are you now?" She turns toward me. "Jealous of the people who see my pictures?"
"No. You're mine." It feels too right on my tongue. I don't want to take it back. Even though it isn't accurate. "I'm the only one who sees you like this." I move closer. Bring my hand to her hips. "Who touches you. Fucks you. Makes you come."
"Adam." It falls off her lips. The perfect sound. Poetry. She rises to her tiptoes and presses her lips to mine. It's fast, rushed even. "I want to fuck you so badly." She pulls back. "But after. Save the energy for this, okay?"
"Aren't I keeping my suit on?"
"Most of it."
I raise a brow.
She smiles. "I have a few ideas. I'm sure you can imagine."
I'm not sure I can imagine anything else.
"Give me fifteen minutes to set up." She turns to the window. Surveys the light. "I like that suit. The slate grey. The blue tie. I have a lot of ideas for that. But if you'd prefer something else…" She motions to the bedroom. "I'll start here. With the window. Then the bedroom. The light will be better there as the sun moves."
There's so much enthusiasm in her voice. It does something to me. Fills me with a pride I haven't felt in a long time.
I care about her. More than I should.
And I don't give a fuck about should.
Only about seeing passion in her eyes.
And maybe seeing her clothes on the floor too, huh, Adam? Let's not lose sight of what matters here.
This idiotic plan of yours is finally making sense.
The best revenge is getting laid.
Everyone knows that.
Maybe he's right.
Fuck, my brother isn't here. He's a voice in my head. He's gone. He's gone forever and I'll never make that right.