Page 173 of Forced Vows

"Good to know."

"You know what I mean."

He doesn't answer because the photographer is telling us it's time to try another pose.

Miceli stops spinning and I realize the photographer is standing on the top rung of the step ladder she used to set up the taller lights and reflectors.

She hops down. "These are going to be great. Now, sit in that armchair with Róise in your lap."

Miceli settles into the chair she indicated with my butt right on his thighs. There's something pressing into me through the layers of my skirt and underskirts that's harder than the bulging muscles of his thighs.

He's turned on. Because he's holding me?

"Let's spread your skirts." The photographer messes with my dress. "That's good, but maybe a little leg showing?"

She artfully pushes the fabric up and tells Miceli to grab and hold it. He does, his fingertips sliding up my naked skin under the cover of my crinoline.

He makes a sound that makes my core pulse with need. "You're wearing thigh highs," he growls low for only me to hear.

"Perfect. Don't move. Don't change a single thing. Especially your expressions." The photographer is back on the stepstool, getting a bird's eye view of us.

Normally I would protest how much of my cleavage will show from that angle, but right now if a single word comes out of my mouth, it isn't going to be about the pictures.

We spend another hour taking photos and by the end, I never want to see the opposite side of a camera lens again. Maybe because I want to see Miceli naked so badly.

Pusheen jumps down from the couch where she's been napping since her part in the photo shoot ends. She saunters over to us and rubs along Miceli's ankles and then mine.

Lulled by her innocent behavior, I notice her bunched back legs too late.

"Watch out," I yell as my cat leaps halfway across the room to land on the back of one of the photographer's assistants.

The man goes crashing down to the ground, expensive equipment landing around him like the debris from a four-car pileup. Pusheen's back end swishes as she walks away, no concern for the mess she left behind.

Miceli calls for Allessio to put Pusheen in her carrier, but he doesn't apologize for my cat's tendency to knock down unsuspecting persons and he won't let me either.

"We do not apologize for Pusheen exhibiting her nature."

However he pays more than double for any damages and thanks the photographer for her efforts. With a hand low on my back, his fingers over the top swell of my butt, he guides me out of the suite.

My heart pounds so hard, I can feel it knocking against my breastbone.

Once we're in the back of what is no doubt an armor plated SUV, I ask, "What now?"

"Allessio will take Pusheen home and see her settled. We have reservations at Bar Pitti in thirty minutes."

"It's early for dinner in the City, isn't it?" I don't mind eating at six, but I expect Miceli to prefer later.

My thighs clench at the look he gives me. "I have plans for after."

"Can't wait."

He growls in response. "Don't tempt me or we aren't going to make it to dinner."

"I'm down for that." My stomach decides to take that moment to gurgle loudly.

"First, I feed you. Then I fuck you."

"You're so crude."

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