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“Like…” Her voice cracks a little. “This?”

“Perfect.” I snap a dozen more pics and then lower my camera again. The fire burning in my sternum dies down because we’re back to safe conversation. Mak didn’t circle back to my past, and I’m sure as shit not going to either. “You’re incredibly easy to photograph, Mak. You’re making my job too easy.”

She bursts out in laughter and the tension, or whatever it is growing between us, pops like a bubble. “Careful. You might have spoken too soon. I have one more outfit to get on, if there’s still time.”

Her tone lifts at the end as if she’s asking a question… or for permission. “Fuck yeah. Let’s do it.”

I don’t even bother looking at the clock to see what time it is. My other client can wait. Rude, I know, but I’m enjoying myself and don’t want to rush Mak out of here. Besides, Chloe is back from her hour-long coffee break and she’s great at reading the room. She’ll distract my other client if I run over on time.

Mak dashes into the changing room again and I hold my breath, anxious to see what she comes out in next. It takes her much longer than I expect, but when I hear Chloe laugh and say something that makes her crack up, the unease in my chest lifts a little.

“Okay…” Mak comes out of the room. “How can we make this look cool in a pic?”

I freeze, enthralled. Mak just came out in the set of motherfucking black wings.

I swear a new kink unlocks in me.

Something hits my boot and I barely notice it until Mak’s eyes get huge and she rushes over to me. “Your camera!”

“What?” I snap out of my stupor. “Oh shit.” I’d dropped my fucking camera.

Mak holds it like it’s a baby bird that just fell out of its nest. If this thing isn’t broken, it’ll be a miracle. My palms sweat and heart races as I pluck it out of her tiny hands and hit a few buttons. Oh, thank fuck. “It’s good.”

“Phew.” She sags in relief.

I snap a few pics just to make sure, but yeah, everything’s in working order. My brain immediately starts rapid firing different backdrops and poses to put Mak in to showcase this outfit. I love the wings Chloe designed, but no one’s ever used them before, which is a shame.

If I believed in fate, I’d say they were made and waiting for Mak to put them on.

“Hang tight.” I know exactly what we need, I just hope I can reach it with all the junk I’ve got stored in my closet.

Pushing the door open, I climb over stools, baskets, candelabras, and a bunch of other props to reach the back left corner. Shit, I really need to straighten shit up in here. Oh hey, there’s that box fan I was looking for last week.

Nearly toppling over a stack of cushions and a tub of silk sheets, I finally reach the backgrounds rolled up in the back. Plucking out the dark grey one, I also grab a shag carpet. Tripping and climbing, the struggle to get it out of here is real, but I make it out alive.

“Shit. I forgot the candles.” Propping the screen up first, I go back in and fight my way through the treacherous obstacle course and dig out a box of candelabras and glitter I had left over from a convention a few years back. “Okay. Give me a sec.”

I get busy setting up a new scene and am acutely aware that Mak’s watching my every move. I have the urge to speak and fill the silence, but I bite the inside of my cheek and focus on getting everything ready for her instead. I just hope she likes my vision for this, or I’m going to feel like such a loser.

“Okay,” I say, wiping my brow. “This should do it.” I look over at Mak and offer her a smile. She gawks at me like I’m the one who just sprouted wings.

“This is amazing,” she says, breathlessly. When Mak storms past me to see the details I’ve managed to scrape together, I get the opportunity to appreciate her outfit from the back.

Yup. This woman is here to ruin me.

Her ass is absolute perfection.

Just like the rest of her.

We take a bunch of pictures and she’s the one who hears my next client come in first. There’s no way they can see us—not with how I designed my space—but it’s clear to me by Mak’s body language that she’s uncomfortable that someone else is here.

Probably because the only thing covering her tits right now are her hands.

“Any more outfits?”

“No,” she says, quietly.

“Okay. You can get changed, and I’ll let you have a peek at a few of these when you come back out.”

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