something different. Something that portrayed her true spirit, the
essence of who she really was. Perhaps it was an intentional challenge she’d
issued for Finn.
As she watched him now, moving with stealthy fluidity that
screamed cocksure arrogance and bad-boy wickedness, anticipation of exciting
things to come—hopefully her!—zinged through her. He dragged her coffee table
farther away from the sofa and carefully placed his shoulder bag on it. Quickly
removing two cameras, he outfitted both of them, then played around with the
lighting in the room before using the digital single lens reflex camera to take
several test shots.
Yvette’s curiosity mounted. What was he up to?
Finally, he grabbed her by the hand and directed her to the
sofa, where she sat still while he took more test shots with the DSLR. When he
stepped back and viewed the shots on the miniature screen on the camera, he
nodded, then shook his head, then nodded again.
Yvette said, “If you tell me I look like a whale on film,
I’m going to kick your sorry ass right out of my condo.”
He lifted his gaze and grinned. “Live solely off fast food
for a year and then you might have a problem.” He eyed her body in a slow,
appreciative way, his eyes lingering on her breasts, the tops of which spilled
out of her demi bra. “Trust me, you’re a knockout, doll. The problem is the
lighting. Not exactly optimal, but this photo shoot is just so you don’t have
to pose for hours on end.”
“That’s good news. You know I have the attention span of a
gnat. Plus, I’ve got three columns and six blogs due this week.” She’d carved
out a nice little niche for herself both in print and on the Internet as an
avant-garde art and food expert. Another reason she and Finn had likely never
hooked up. She was too busy playing Queen of the Mountain, with an endless
stream of competition trying to knock her off the top.
“Despite the lighting, this room will do nicely,” he
commented as he eyed the sofa with the cream-colored sheet draped sloppily over
it, creating ripples of satin amidst a sea of purple velvet. “Your setup is
perfect.”
“Just trying to chill out,” she said. Dying to know what was
in the ice chest, she added, “What, exactly, do you have in mind for this
evening and what makes you think I’m going to go along with it?”
Finn set aside his camera. He plunged his hands in the front
pockets of his black-as-night jeans and gave her a coy smile, his dark brows
lifting suggestively. “Because you like being naughty.”
Her teeth clamped down on her lower lip as excitement shot
through her again. Her nipples were already hard. They seemed to get harder.
Tightening in an almost unbearable way. Drawing her attention to them, along
with their need to be rolled between his fingers and thumbs. Suckled in his
mouth. Flicked by his tongue. Scraped gently by his teeth.
A prickle of arousal danced along her clit as she lifted her
gaze and asked, “You really think you know what I like?”
“Oh yeah.” He kept his hands in his pockets. Didn’t move an
inch. Just eyed her with a sinfully hot look that made her pulse jump. “I was
sitting at home the other day, trying to sketch out a new body art mural, but
all I could think about was you. Sweaty and slick from this ridiculous heat
wave we’re having. And then it hit me. The perfect thing to cool you down while
heating up my canvases.”
She squirmed a little on the plump cushion, her arousal
making her a bit uncomfortable. In a good way, of course. Anticipation mingled
with a need that had been burning bright for years, since the first day she’d
met Finn Griffith. Would it finally be sated tonight?
Yvette said, “If this involves putting my clothes back on,
you can forget it.”
He laughed. “No, doll. I need you just like that.”
“Hmm. Fortuitous.”
“You said it. Now here’s what I’m thinking. Four scenes—I’ve
already figured out the poses for each one. I know you used
essence of who she really was. Perhaps it was an intentional challenge she’d
issued for Finn.
As she watched him now, moving with stealthy fluidity that
screamed cocksure arrogance and bad-boy wickedness, anticipation of exciting
things to come—hopefully her!—zinged through her. He dragged her coffee table
farther away from the sofa and carefully placed his shoulder bag on it. Quickly
removing two cameras, he outfitted both of them, then played around with the
lighting in the room before using the digital single lens reflex camera to take
several test shots.
Yvette’s curiosity mounted. What was he up to?
Finally, he grabbed her by the hand and directed her to the
sofa, where she sat still while he took more test shots with the DSLR. When he
stepped back and viewed the shots on the miniature screen on the camera, he
nodded, then shook his head, then nodded again.
Yvette said, “If you tell me I look like a whale on film,
I’m going to kick your sorry ass right out of my condo.”
He lifted his gaze and grinned. “Live solely off fast food
for a year and then you might have a problem.” He eyed her body in a slow,
appreciative way, his eyes lingering on her breasts, the tops of which spilled
out of her demi bra. “Trust me, you’re a knockout, doll. The problem is the
lighting. Not exactly optimal, but this photo shoot is just so you don’t have
to pose for hours on end.”
“That’s good news. You know I have the attention span of a
gnat. Plus, I’ve got three columns and six blogs due this week.” She’d carved
out a nice little niche for herself both in print and on the Internet as an
avant-garde art and food expert. Another reason she and Finn had likely never
hooked up. She was too busy playing Queen of the Mountain, with an endless
stream of competition trying to knock her off the top.
“Despite the lighting, this room will do nicely,” he
commented as he eyed the sofa with the cream-colored sheet draped sloppily over
it, creating ripples of satin amidst a sea of purple velvet. “Your setup is
perfect.”
“Just trying to chill out,” she said. Dying to know what was
in the ice chest, she added, “What, exactly, do you have in mind for this
evening and what makes you think I’m going to go along with it?”
Finn set aside his camera. He plunged his hands in the front
pockets of his black-as-night jeans and gave her a coy smile, his dark brows
lifting suggestively. “Because you like being naughty.”
Her teeth clamped down on her lower lip as excitement shot
through her again. Her nipples were already hard. They seemed to get harder.
Tightening in an almost unbearable way. Drawing her attention to them, along
with their need to be rolled between his fingers and thumbs. Suckled in his
mouth. Flicked by his tongue. Scraped gently by his teeth.
A prickle of arousal danced along her clit as she lifted her
gaze and asked, “You really think you know what I like?”
“Oh yeah.” He kept his hands in his pockets. Didn’t move an
inch. Just eyed her with a sinfully hot look that made her pulse jump. “I was
sitting at home the other day, trying to sketch out a new body art mural, but
all I could think about was you. Sweaty and slick from this ridiculous heat
wave we’re having. And then it hit me. The perfect thing to cool you down while
heating up my canvases.”
She squirmed a little on the plump cushion, her arousal
making her a bit uncomfortable. In a good way, of course. Anticipation mingled
with a need that had been burning bright for years, since the first day she’d
met Finn Griffith. Would it finally be sated tonight?
Yvette said, “If this involves putting my clothes back on,
you can forget it.”
He laughed. “No, doll. I need you just like that.”
“Hmm. Fortuitous.”
“You said it. Now here’s what I’m thinking. Four scenes—I’ve
already figured out the poses for each one. I know you used
Similar Books
