Page 86 of Bombshells
I line up with my teammates as the lights blaze at us. It’s like high noon in the desert. But what’s a little sunstroke? I’m making thousands of dollars right now.
“Sylvie,” Asher says. “Look over my shoulder into the distance. There it is. Yes!”
When I focus my gaze over Asher’s shoulder, though, I happen to spot a man in the shadows against the brick wall, staring hotly at me. Anton Bayer, in all his bright-eyed glory, is watching every move I make.
My heart gives its usual flutter at the sight of him. I shouldn’t be too surprised—I’d heard the men were shooting earlier in the day for this same company.
But that’s the thing—I always feel a little stunned when Anton enters the room. No other man has ever made me feel this way—like I’d walk through fire for just one more kiss. Maybe it took me a while to realize, but from the first time I ever set eyes on him, I felt that pull.
He feels it too, damn it. He’s over there, arms crossed over his delicious chest, leaning ever so casually against the wall. But there’s nothing casual at all about his expression. There’s so much heat and tension in it that I can practically hear the sizzle all the way over here.
“That’s fierce, Sylvie,” Asher says. “Lordy lord. Turn it up, hon. I can take it. Lengthen your neck, and show me that heat.”
Two can play this game. As I swivel slowly, I stare right back at Anton. It was his choice to walk away from me.
The camera clicks on. Asher adjusts my teammates, too. Then he comes back to me. “I want you up against the hood of the car. This isn’t the monster truck show, so you don’t have to drape yourself on it. Cock your hip. You’re a busy, important woman about town in your three-hundred-dollar jeans.”
“Three hundo?” Charli yelps. “Are they spun gold?”
Asher chuckles. “All right. We’re going to get rid of the taxi, and I have another set piece for Sylvie. You two will be back in a few minutes. Capische?”
The taxi backs up the way it came and disappears. Two men push a platform across the floor, and on it is mounted a single carousel horse.
“Really?” I laugh. “What am I going to do with that?”
“Hop onto the platform,” Asher says. “Hit the fans, boys. And we also need some tunes.”
Asher’s assistant goes skating off to plug in an extension cord. A moment later, a breeze begins to blow in my direction, lifting my hair away from my face. And the soul-deep thump of house music begins to emit from hidden speakers.
“Grasp the pole, hon,” Asher says, a smaller camera in his hands. He drops to one knee and points it at me. “Let me see some more of that smolder you’re so good at. What do you want, Sylvie? Think about that.”
Oh boy. What I want right now is standing in the shadows. Anton said we should just be friends, but I think he’s wrong. I grasp the pole in the carousel horse and tip my head so that I can get a better look at him.
“Chin up,” Asher murmurs, and I respond on command. “Yes, like that. More pout. More heat.”
I put a foot in the horse’s stirrup and give Asher what he’s asking for.
“Hop up there. Side-saddle.”
It’s easy enough to lift my derriére onto the horse. I tilt my head against the pole and give Asher my best smolder. I didn’t know I had a smolder, but here we are.
Across the way, Anton shifts position. Like he’s having trouble standing still.
Want something? I channel in his direction. Am I making you uncomfortable? Well, get used to it. Because I don’t think this feeling is going to go away.
The next twenty minutes passes in a haze, as I move for Asher and feel the heat of Anton’s eyes on me. I let the exquisite leather jacket slide partway down one shoulder, and Asher murmurs his praise. I arch my back a fractional degree, lifting my bust toward Anton, a scowl on my face.
This could have all been yours. There’s no point in denying it.
Anton licks his lips. And then? I see him adjust the way his jeans are fitting in the crotch area.
Holy hell, the power I have right now. I move like a puppet wherever Asher tells me to, although the man I’m really focused on is ten or more yards behind him. Every little thing I do makes Anton’s stare burn more brightly.
It’s intoxicating.
“Okay, wow. That’s amazing. You can hop down,” the photographer finally says.
My whole body feels warmed from within, and I’m strangely breathless.
