Read Online Exposure by Iris Blaire - Free Book Online Page B

Britain leads us up the stairs. “I think the offices are on the
second floor,” she says.
    I swallow. Why am I so nervous? I’ve
done a million and a half shoots before and I’ve rocked all of
them. I’ve even done one with Dallas before. But the thought of
being around him, of having him touch me for the camera again, is
making me light-headed.
    And sweaty. Which is the last thing I
need to be.
    Britain finds an office that looks
like it could still be in use. There are books on the shelves and
files scattered across the desk. Britain starts moving the files,
and I grudgingly find a soft piece of felt in one of the drawers to
start wiping away dust.
    Dallas smoothes the front of his
slacks and sits, crossing his legs. A nice dress shirt is tucked
into his pants. He even wears a tie, his hair slicked back enough
to make him seem older and professional without looking creepy. And
he does look older. He looks like he could easily pull off early
thirties—perfect young, hot professor age.
    Heat flushes my body.
    I’m dressed in incredibly low-rise
jeans, a revealing, white cami, and a pink EPE zip-up sweatshirt.
Exactly what Dallas told me to wear. As I stalk around the room
trying to tidy the place up when he grabs my arm and pulls me to
him. I gaze down into his light eyes that express
concern.
    “ What can I do that will
make this shoot as easy for you as possible?”
    I want to reach out and touch his
face—run my thumb along the smooth end of his jaw, but I have to be
patient.
    “ Modeling with someone
else is just going to take some time getting used to.”
    The corner of his mouth turns up.
“I’ll try my best to make you forget about the camera.”
    Oh, God.
    You should try your best
to make me forget you’re not single , I
want to tell him, but instead, I just nod.
    After Britain sets up her lighting,
she claps her hands together. “Okay, I think we’re ready to shoot.
Dallas, go ahead and take a seat behind the desk.
    My heart begins to pound relentlessly.
I clutch my binder—which I’ve brought as a prop—to my
chest.
    Britain starts adjusting her camera.
“Okay, Andrea, so what’s the scenario?”
    Andrea inhales excitedly, and clasps
her hand in front of her. “Okay, Rylan. You come into the office
looking for way to make extra credit in Dallas’s class, but he
obviously has bigger plans for you.”
    I roll my eyes. “Oh,
brother.”
    “ Rylan,” Dallas says
sternly. Darkly. I turn to see him looking up at me from his desk,
eyes fierce. His palms are pressed flat against the polished wood.
“I’ve noticed that you’re failing my class.”
    “ You’ve got to be kidding
me,” I murmur.
    “ Fuck yes!” Britain
squeals, raising the camera and taking a few test shots of Dallas.
“Come on, Rylan. Don’t be a poor sport. Play into it.”
    I take a huge breath and slowly start
walking toward Dallas, who is stone-still.
    “ Rylan, you are meek and
innocent,” Andrea instructs. “This professor is ruthless toward
you. You’ve never done so horribly in a class before and all you
want in the world is for your GPA to not drop from a sparkling
4.0.”
    Not too far from real
life , I think.
    “ Give me dialog,” Andrea
instructs. “Inspire me.”
    Dallas grins wickedly. He’s having way
too much fun with this. “I don’t think you can do it,” he
says.
    Fire ignites inside me. A
challenge.
    I look down, scuffing my feet timidly.
“Professor, I’d like to ask if you’d make an exception and offer
extra credit for me. It’s just, I’m a straight-A student and have
never had such a difficult time in a class before.”
    “ Yes,” Britain
hisses.
    When I look up at Dallas, I can’t tell
if he’s impressed or not by my acting. His expression lacks all
amusement. He leans back in his chair. “The thing is, Rylan, I have
girls coming into my office all of the time asking for extra
credit. And their excuses are quite creative. So why should I give
it to you and not to them?”
    “