Total pages in book: 142
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 135522 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 678(@200wpm)___ 542(@250wpm)___ 452(@300wpm)
Noah lowers the camera. “I think you could be more … um …” He makes a gesture with his hand. “Can you turn a little to the …”
“Like this?” I turn ever so slightly to my side.
“Um, not quite. More like …” He makes another gesture.
I turn the other way. “Like this?”
Noah gnaws on his lip, unsure. Then he glances over his shoulder, noticing how Nadine isn’t really paying attention. She’s talking with the other bachelors and her brother-in-law Gary, who are all on the other side of the path, practically ignoring us. I guess she has decided to trust Noah to his own creative devices, I have to assume, considering he did so well with the first photo shoot.
“Something wrong?” I ask.
After a second, Noah appears to have a stroke of confidence, his back straightening. He walks right up to me. “Your shirt is a bit too … um …” He gives the front of it a tug to open it further, then looks at me.
I smirk back. “Better?”
The look in his eyes right now is one I have come to know and recognize so well.
I’d be lying if I said it isn’t doing something to me.
He lets his camera hang around his neck, then brings both of his hands to my waist. “If you can just … turn a little to the …”
He gently coaxes me to twist the other way.
The way his fingers glide sensitively across the tight denim of my jeans, running over my hips, then grazing my ass, does not go unnoticed. My heart gives a little jump of excitement as his fingers move. He knows what he’s doing.
“There,” he decides softly. “Better.”
“You sure I don’t require …” I lift an eyebrow. “… any more … adjustments …?”
He gently runs a hand down my shirt, as if to smooth out the wrinkled fabric. “This shirt looks good on you.”
“Maybe I need another adjustment … a little bit … lower …”
He meets my eyes. “Cole …”
“What?” I ask innocently, my halo practically shining in the sunlight over our heads.
He peels his gaze from mine, running his hand down my shirt again. With as tight as this shirt and these jeans are, anywhere he touches feels like his fingertips are on my bare skin.
“If you’re requiring any adjustments in your more sensitive areas,” he says, “I’m afraid that’s something I am unable to do for you without infringing upon at least three workplace regulations.”
I lower my voice. “You know how sexy I find it when you go full nerd on me, right?”
He calmly adjusts his glasses and lifts his chin. “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Now remain precisely in this position while I configure my camera for optimal exposure, adjusting the aperture and fine-tuning the ISO in preparation to capture the photons that reflect your unmatched aesthetics.”
I suppress a smile. “Can you still photograph me if your full nerd has given me full wood?”
“Workplace regulations,” he responds rather strictly, then cracks a smile. “And I can photograph you in any state.”
“In … any … state?”
“You should exercise more restraint, Cole. The horses behind you are listening, and do you really want to be responsible for corrupting their innocent little ears?”
“Oh, there’s nothing innocent about a horse.”
“How do you know?”
“Just a hunch. And you know how I am with my hunches. This one behind me? He doesn’t look like he’s up to any good.”
He takes a step toward me, frowning and nearly pressing our bodies together. “The only naughty stud here is you.”
“Says the photographer who can’t keep his hands off of me.”
“No more nerd talk for you.” He lifts his camera and gives it a wiggle. “I have important work to do, and you are distracting me. Now stay in that pose, please stop debating the innate innocence of horses, and allow me to do my job.” He steps back, then adopts a coy smirk. “We can … talk about other stuff … later.”
“Promise?”
He gets into position, winks at me, then lifts his camera and starts snapping more photos. Something about the playful way in which Noah interacts with me makes me feel so special. The two of us truly have something no one else can touch. When he’s around me, it doesn’t matter how many phone calls or unwanted texts I get a day. Nothing matters but Noah’s playful smile, his adorable eyes and the way they connect to mine … and his skillful hands.
I hope he has plans with those hands tonight.
That’s when my eyes catch Anthony’s across the wide dirt path separating us. I can’t say exactly how long he’s been paying attention, but I notice the expression on his face. His eyebrows are pulled tightly together like he’s straining to figure something out by utilizing every last brain cell he’s got. Considering what he might be thinking, I sure hope there aren’t that many brain cells at work in that empty head of his.