Page 62 of Obsessed Heir

She complies, and we earn a thumbs-up from behind the camera.

Holly leans to one side to study us. “I’m going to ask you for something.” She pauses, likely for dramatic effect. “And if you say no, I understand,” she quickly adds.

What the hell is she up to?

“Can we do a couple of shots without the dress?”

Abigail tenses in my arms. “Excuse me?”

“Barron can cover you with his arm,” she explains.

Abigail is silent, holding herself rigid as she weighs her decision. What’s she thinking? Will she go through with it? Maybe if she had the fire I’d glimpsed burning in her veins, again.

“Come on, little thief,” I say low enough for her ears only.

The subtle change in her breathing announces her annoyance at my needling. She doesn’t move a muscle, frozen in indecision.

Adding pressure on her internal debate, I hook my thumb under the strap at her shoulder. She doesn’t utter a single protest or attempt to push me away. Instead, she stands there meekly, letting me continue undressing her as I see fit.

My cock twitches in response to her submission.

I drag the strap slowly across her flushed skin and down her arm. Goose bumps erupt along her bare shoulder, creating a delicious trail I’m tempted to chase with my tongue. I have the sudden urge to run my mouth over each raised bump until she’s shivering with need.

“It’ll just be one quick picture, then we’re done. I promise.” Holly keeps talking in a soothing tone, though I barely register what else she’s saying. Whatever it is meant to keep Abigail distracted and pliant, not deviating from what she’s already agreed to by not protesting.

Now that I’m this close, I can feel the tension coming off her in waves, smell the arousal clinging to her skin. I swap arms, bringing my other hand up to toy with the remaining strap before slipping it down as well.

Abigail remains perfectly still as I bare her body, though her pulse thunders wildly.

I take a deliberate step to one side, allowing the flimsy garment to fall. It slides gracefully down her back, over the curve of her ass, and puddles at her feet.

There’s no more than a minuscule triangle of silk covering her mound. The word “covering” is too generous to describe the scrap of fabric. Her slit has little more than a thin string and a few beads at her most intimate place.

Is that skimpy excuse for underwear what has her so deliciously wet?

“Barron.” The insistent edge to Holly’s voice snaps me out of my lustful daze. Damn it. How do I end up distracted wheneverAbigail is involved? “Your right arm over her chest. The left at her waist,” Holly repeats.

“This okay?” I ask.

I didn’t think I’d be this enthusiastic over taking pictures. I nearly stayed outside, hesitating at the door, while Abigail was inside, wearing next to nothing…

“Abby, left cheek toward your shoulder,” Holly calls out as the camera shutter begins clicking rapidly. “Let’s try…can you bring your hands up to cup his biceps?” She sets up like she’s clutching a roller coaster safety brace, demonstrating the pose.

Abigail is slow to respond. Her hands inch up my arms, her fingertips trailing over my suit jacket until they curl around my flexed biceps. The movement causes her breasts to push out enticingly.

“Hmm, can you move your left hand up to his cheek…” Holly keeps giving directions.

Again, Abigail hesitates, then her palm is cradling the side of my face, her thumb brushing along my cheekbone.

That leaves my wrist resting at the outer curve of her breast, the tips of my fingers grazing the soft swell of silky skin at her side. I’m itching to do more but tentatively set my fingertips down lightly on her, savoring the warmth of her flesh.

She glances up at me through her lashes. Our gazes lock in an electrifying moment. Just long enough to see her lower lids still damp from earlier. Then her focus jumps from my eyes to my cheek, where she softly sets her fingers to rest.

How have I never noticed how delicate and feminine her hands are? It’s an irrational thought, but I find myself suddenly glad I took the time to shave this morning before venturing out of my suite.

“Okay, I think we’re done here,” Holly announces, though she continues to click away, intent on capturing every last second.

Abigail’s hand falls from cradling my cheek as if burned. She brings her arm up under mine and pushes away from my chest, breaking the fragile connection we had for those few heated seconds.

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