Once I have myself under control, I stroll out, hands tucked in my pockets, my blood pressure back to normal, red rage turned to calm gray. Mila jerks around when she hears me approaching.
“Did you hurt yourself?”
“No. I’m fine. Let me get you a replacement drink, though. Hang on.” I squeeze her hand and head toward the little fridge on the opposite side of the room. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the guy who had been fixated on Mila move in her direction. All of my self-control flies out the window. In three strides, I interrupt the guy and grab him by the shoulder. “Walk this way and make it look normal or I’ll break your kneecaps and you won’t be able to move for a month,” I mutter under my breath. Mila is back looking at the photographs and doesn’t see me direct the model out the door.
Alone, in the hall, I cut to the chase. “Do you have any other career options than modeling?”
“Huh?”
“Do you wait tables, do tech work, write books? Anything bring in the bacon other than this?” I circle my face with my finger.
“Why would I?” he questions, and repeats my action. “I have this. Unlike you, who probably scares little kids when you are at the playground.”
“First, I’m a grown-ass adult with no kids. Only pedos hang out at playgrounds unless they’re with their kid. Second, I don’t give a shit what you think of my face, but if you keep looking at Mila like you have been, you’re going to have to find new employment. That’s it.”
I pull the door open and leave him behind.
“Everything okay?” Mila asks when I bring her the second soda. I pop the top open and set it far from my hand so I don’t make another mess.
“Yeah, it’s all good. How are the flesh slabs looking?”
“Lauren and I are torn about this one.” She points to a shot where two of the oiled-up men have their hands on each other’s shoulders. I avoid looking farther down since men in underwear are not my thing. If it was Mila, I’d be inspecting the photos with a magnifying glass and suggesting a hundred different poses, like her on her knees. Her holding her tits up for me. Her on her back with her legs spread wide and her mouth open.
“Um, so you like this shot?” she says.
I blink, trying to see past the lust fog my thoughts have created. “Sure.”
The men could be riding unicorns in a bear suit and I would’ve agreed with her.
“Hey, Mila.”
I turn to see the model behind me. A big grin stretches across his face. He reaches out and holds out his phone. “Since we’re almost done here, I figured we could trade numbers.”
“No,” I say.
“I wasn’t talking to you,” the model says.
I can see that nothing I say is going to get through to this guy, so action it is. I pivot and pluck Mila out of her chair. “I’m going to kiss you. If you don’t want me to, now’s the time to say no.”
“Kiss?”
“That’s not a no.” I plant my mouth across hers. Her lips part, and I dive in, sweeping my tongue between her teeth. The cola lays sweet on her tongue, and there’s a hint of something else there, elusive but addicting. What had started out as a way for me to claim what was mine quickly turns into something more. Desire thrums through my bloodstream. My hand falls to her waist and jerks her close. I forget that I’m in a public setting. I forget that there are other people in the room. All I can focus on is the feel of her soft curves against my hard planes, her delicate tongue folding under the pressure of my hard thrusts. I want to be inside of her. I need to be inside of her.
Some small grain of sense pierces the veil of my need, and I lift my head from hers. Mila’s cheeks are flushed. Her lips are rosy red. I turn back to the model, who is stuck to the ground in front of us, and swipe my wet lip with my thumb. “You were saying?”
He tucks his phone behind his back. “Uh, never mind.”
“I think you’re done,” I say to Lauren, who is also staring at Mila and me.
“Yeah, I guess so,” she says.
Mila is shell-shocked and can’t seem to move, so I gather up her purse and cola and phone, and take her by the elbow. “In the future, no more underwear shoots for Mila.”
“I got it.” Lauren gives us a weak wave.
As I’m taking Mila through the door, I say, “Tell me what Lauren’s dream job is. I’ll make sure it happens.” It’s the least I can do.
“How can you make sure it happens? What if she wants to shoot a movie?”