“Since when do you dislike her so much?” he volleyed back.
“Since she’s always a total bitch to me.”
“I guess I don’t see it. Then again, she pretty much ceases to exist to me when she’s not in front of my face, so I suppose I haven’t given her very much thought.”
Any response I gave would have made me sound petty or jealous, so I let the subject lie. I really didn’t want her ruining any more of the short time I had with Adam.
Our orders were taken by a blushing waitress who dropped her pen twice when Adam smiled at her. He did have a great smile, so I couldn’t really blame her.
He was telling me more about the club Natalie had mentioned when my phone vibrated in my pocket. I slipped it out, finding a text from the photographer I had worked with over the weekend.
“What’s that?” Adam peered over my shoulder.
I tapped the screen. “Some pictures from my shoot. I’m dying to see how they turned out. We were doused in oil and—”
Adam grabbed my phone, swiping open the first photo. It was me, in black and white, my skin shining with oil, curls sleeked back, face bare. I was modeling a necklace and didn’t have anything on aside from a sheet draped over my breasts. Eyes narrowed, he studied the image, zooming in and out.
Wordlessly, he went to the next one of me and another girl. My back was to the camera, a long necklace draping down my spine. My arm was linked with the other model while she faced forward. Her long, red hair had been pulled to the front to cover her breasts, but she was otherwise naked.
The photographer had only sent four photos, and Adam studied each one like he was going to be quizzed on them later. My stomach clenched when he was silent.
They were good pictures. So beautiful, it was hard to believe it was me in them. But I still remembered the hours of standing mostly naked, moving a fraction of an inch at a time, my back aching from having to arch for so long, my head pounding from all theCandy CrushI’d played while waiting for my turn.
“These are stunning. Really, really stunning,” he said.
“Yeah?” My teeth snagged the corner of my lip. “I hadn’t worked with that photographer before. He had…ideas. I was worried they’d come out bad, or too strange to use, but he got really good shots.”
“Having a gorgeous subject doesn’t hurt.” He looked at me like I was dumb for not taking credit for how the pictures turned out, but I’d only followed direction. “Are you always this…fucking naked?”
That made me laugh. “Not always.”
“I never Googled you. Maybe it’s time I rectify that. Make sure you’re not being objectified.”
“I’m a model. I’m literally a breathing object.”
He growled, pressing in closer. “I don’t like that. Why are you even modeling again?”
“I like seeing pretty pictures of myself.” Without revealing the need to make extra bank to support my secret classes, I had no better explanation. So, I changed the subject, pointing to the redhead in the photo with me. “They had to do a lot of editing on her. She had these cute little hoops through her nipples and her hair wasn’t really long enough to cover them.”
His brow lowered as he studied me for a beat. I thought he wouldn’t let the modeling topic drop, but Adam was Adam: easily distracted by boobs. “Nipple piercings, huh? Did you like them?”
“They looked good on her. I don’t know if I’d ever do it, though. Mine are nice on their own.”
He huffed a laugh. “I have no doubt about that. I bet they’d be pretty with some barbells in them, though. Maybe one with a diamond on the end to match the one in your nose.”
“I think I’m good.” I narrowed my eyes at him. “Doyouhave your nipples pierced?”
“You’ve seen me without a shirt. You know I don’t.”
“I haven’t seen you without a shirt in at least a month. You could have done anything since then.”
Without even a second of hesitation, he twisted toward me and lifted his shirt. His nipples were in their natural state, puckering in the cool air of the restaurant. The taut lines of his abdomen rippled under my stare. Saliva pooled on my tongue, not because this was Adam, but because he was objectively hot.
I swallowed hard.
Only when my eyes flicked to his did he drop his shirt. The corner of his mouth hitched.
“Now, if you had asked me to drop my pants…” he trailed off, biting his bottom lip.