Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 26499 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 26499 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 132(@200wpm)___ 106(@250wpm)___ 88(@300wpm)
“You’re coming with me,” Jay orders. I start to nod in agreement until Lauren snaps me back to reality.
“She’s not going anywhere,” Lauren says, not bothering to glance our way as she motions for one of the models to move his elbow.
“Eyes on me, freckles.” Jay easily draws my attention back to him.
“Freckles?”
He brushes his finger across my upper cheek, over my nose, and onto my other cheek, where in fact a dusting of freckles are. I get them in the spring when it’s nice enough to grab a drink out on a patio and work on my computer. It’s about the only time I get any real sun.
“What’s with the touching?” Now Lauren is at my side with that no-nonsense look on her face.
“I kinda like it when he touches me,” I whisper because I don’t want her discouraging Jay. It’s stupid because of course he can hear me. He only smirks, ignoring Lauren’s comments.
“You have no idea where his hands have been.” She makes it sound so ominous. Jay’s smirk drops from his lips. “You showed yourself in, and you can show yourself out,” she challenges him.
“I think you know I don’t have to go anywhere if I don’t want to.” Jay’s tone isn’t challenging in response. It sounds more like he’s simply stating a fact. My eyes dart between the two of them. I get the sense that I’m being left out of some kind of information here. That I’m the only one who isn’t in the know.
“How about he stays and we finish?” I suggest, realizing I’m the only one that might be able to temper whatever is happening here. “I’ll work over here.” I start to walk toward my computer setup so I can do some lighting adjustments and touch-ups now so we know what we’re working with.
I don’t make it three feet when my foot catches on another one of those stupid extension cords. I brace myself for impact. Only this time I don't fall and hit the ground. Two strong arms catch me. “Those stupid things are everywhere,” I huff, staring up at Jay.
“Shall I have them all removed?” I snort a laugh, picturing him ripping them from all the walls and tossing them right out the windows. I have no doubt that he would do it.
“I need them, but maybe if you stay close then you can catch me if another one of them tries to get me,” I suggest.
His eyes glance over to the men who are lingering around in front of a giant white canvas. All of them are in their underwear. “Isn’t it weird how they look like they just got out of the pool but they’re in their underwear? Shouldn’t they be in swim trunks?”
“I’ll stay,” Jay says, not answering my question. He stands behind me, his arms folded over his chest. I peek over my shoulder at him.
“You don’t shave your chest, do you?” I ask out of the clear blue sky. What is wrong with me? Why did I allow those words to get past my lips? I don’t even need an answer to that question. I’m so curious about this man.
“No,” he responds.
“Of course, you don’t.” I sigh.
“You like that kind of thing?” Jay shifts on his feet. Have I made him uneasy?
“Nope, but I’m trying to find your flaw.” I narrow my eyes on him. They must be deeper. After all, what do I really know about Jay?
eight
JAY
The photoshoot is taking way too long, and even though Mila keeps to the computer area, she still has to stare at these guys’ abs way too long. Plus, this one guy? He seems to have a death wish. When he’s not draping himself over the orange sofa, his eyes are burning a hole through Mila’s neck.
“You look thirsty, babe.” I put a soda at her hand. “Take a break. You’re going to get a headache at this rate.”
Mila leans back and rubs her eyes. “I know. Everyone is starting to blur together. Like I don’t even see the individual abs anymore. It’s just one giant slab of skin.”
Metal crunches under my hand. We both glance down toward the sound to see the soda can crumpled in my fist. Dark cola is dripping down the sides.
“Oh!” Mila jumps up and reaches for the box of Kleenex.
“I’ll take care of it,” I say tersely, and excuse myself to clean up the mess in the bathroom. Jealousy is a foreign emotion to me. There’s nothing in the world I can’t have and no one in the world that lives a better life than me. There’s absolutely nothing for me to be jealous about.
I glare at my reflection. “Get it together, Jay.” I stay in the bathroom washing my hands until my irritation toward the model wears off and I no longer have the desire to throttle the oiled-up muscle man in front of the camera.