Page 21 of Brutal Heir

“Open the phone and turn on the camera,” he says, his voice low and rough.

Oh my. Something flutters in my chest, a mixture of excitement and anxiety. It’s bad enough to feel self-conscious about getting naked with a man the first time, now he wants me to watch it happen.

I nod, my throat suddenly too tight to speak. I reach out, setting my index finger on the screen, and swipe up. Nothing happens. Dismayed, I do it again, fighting back nervous laughter.

The phone doesn’t unlock. Instead it switches to the number pad. My hands shake as I enter the code and bring up the camera. The image of the hanger fills the screen. I take a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves as I touch the little arrows and flip the camera view.

We’re both on the screen. Taking that step seems huge. Now the critical side of my brain kicks in. I’m disheveled after everything that happened earlier.

That moment flashes through my mind again. Then he tugs me toward him, and I land against his side. The warmth of his body, the hard muscles, and the arm surrounding me all remind me of what it was like to be held. How he moved me out of the way and put himself in danger. I’ve never felt so vulnerable and afraid, or so protected.

“What do you see?” he asks, pulling me from my memory. I glance at the phone, and his eyes lock onto mine on the screen. “Tell me.”

I turn my attention away from his face, focusing on theimage of us. I’m a mess. My hair’s all over the place. I lower my head, a look of dismay reflected back at me. “I’m—”

“No.” He shakes his head, cutting me off. “You are pulling yourself out of the scene.”

I bite my lip, trying to comply with his request. It’s hard when he’s right beside me. I’m so tempted to jump in and see what happens.

“Angle the phone down so you don’t see your expressions.” He reaches across me, and I sneak a look at him. His body seems much bigger when he’s this close. “There you go.”

I look back to see how he’s changed the angle and zoomed so I can only see myself from the shoulders down to just past my knees. Oh goodness. Here I thought I was being sneaky, but he must have watched as I was checking him out. “Okay.”

“Now you only see a woman on screen, not you. It’s just like what you saw on the monitor.”

I give a little laugh. “I don’t look anything like that,” I remind him.

“You let me be the judge of that,” he says. My breath hitches. I turn to him and find his eyes darker, his expression intense.

“What if—”

“Hit the record button, Sage.”

My heart races and my mind is in turmoil as I reach out and move to the video option. Taking a leap of faith, I press my finger against the red circle at the bottom. The circle turns to a red square, and the numbers at the top of the screen start moving.

I lean back, uncertain of what he wants me to do. Time is ticking away, and those numbers seem to be moving a lot fasterthan any clock would.

“Take the time to admire the woman’s body,” he says from nearby. “Look at the smooth, bare skin visible up to her collarbone.” I follow along as he says, completely out of my element. “Look at her chest. Follow the edge of her shirt down to her breasts.”

I’m openly studying the view as he might see it. Being honest, I think my breasts are bigger than the woman’s. I don’t know if that’s good or bad.

“Admire the cleavage you can see on screen.” He pauses, letting me catch up. “Know it’s nothing like the view I get from where I am,” he says, sounding pleased.

Of course, with his height, he has to be looking almost straight down. That would give him a significantly better view than just the inch or so of cleavage I see on the screen.

His words have served his purpose. I am conscious of my body, or the body on the screen. Even more so of the fact he’s watching also.

“Do you remember how the fox girl was holding herself?” he asks, his gaze trained on my chest.

My nipples pucker against my bra. That image is probably going to be burned into my mind for all eternity. I swallow hard. “Yes.”

“I want her to cup her breast.”

He’s right. Looking at myself on screen, it’s much different than if I could actually see my face. I bring my right hand up, cupping the bottom of my breast.

“She needs to fill her hand.”

I slide my fingers up, covering the front of my breast. I change the angle, not sure how he’d prefer to see it done. Although it’s not visible on screen, my nipple’s a hard little ridge against the center of my palm. My breathing is shallow as I wait for the next thing he’ll have me do.

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