Page 5 of Breaking the Sinner

His Shy Red-head.

He smiled through the rest of the pictures, mind sliding into vivid fantasies. Bending her over the side of a couch in those hot pants. Learning every inch of the backs of those porcelain thighs. Maybe he could convince her to get a drink tonight. And then back to her place. Because Cobra never brought girls back to his. Personal rule. Nobody saw where he lived.Nobody.

Group pictures ended. Before he could catch her, Shy Red-head bolted.Damn. His thighs twitched with the desire to follow her, but Amara intercepted her by the gym doors. The two fell into conversation, and Amara slung her arm around Red’s shoulders.

A hand clamped down on his shoulder. Travis, squeezing the shit out of his rotator cuff. The guy probably had a thing for secretly testing his employees’ strength via friendly smacks and grabs. “You’re up.”

“For what?”

“Individuals. New hires first, then you guys are good to go for the day.” He jerked his head toward a backdrop where the photographer stood with his camera cocked on his hip moodily. “Other than the meet-up tonight, of course. Come if you can.”

The meet-up. Half mixer, half calendar celebration, Travis had explained in their work meeting earlier that week. Basically, an excuse to get drunk with coworkers. At first Cobra hadn’t been into the idea; most of his coworkers made him uneasy. Too many picture-perfect people who probably had all of the opportunities that Cobra never even could have dreamed of. But now that Shy Red-head was in the picture…

“Is she going?” He jerked his chin toward Red.

Travis swiveled to follow his gaze, then a slow smile overtook his face. “You can find out.” He cupped his hands around his mouth. “Hey, Gen! You’re up!”

To Cobra, he said, “She’s your picture buddy.” With one more grimace-inducing squeeze to his shoulder, Travis trotted off.

Gen.He preferred Red. She drifted his way, face contorted like she’d discovered a rotting carcass in the locker room.

“Don’t worry,” he said as she came within hearing range. He puffed out his chest, letting the body shimmer and his own bulging biceps fill in the gaps. “I don’t bite. Unless you want me to.”

She blinked up at him, her mouth parting as if God had spoken. When she didn’t respond, he nipped at her waist with his fingers. She inhaled so sharply it practically cut him in half.

“Don’t leave me hanging,” he chided, but the girl remained steadfast in not responding to any of his come-ons.Fuck.

“Come on. Get into place.” The photographer snapped his fingers. A lithe assistant sauntered toward them, looking bored and underfed. She pushed him and Red into position, slinging his arm over her shoulders.

“Now look like you both want to be here,” the photographer said, bringing his camera to his face. The scent of berries wafted up toward him. He pushed his lips into the side of her head as the camera snapped pictures.

Red stiffened beneath him, but she tilted her head, allowing him a delectable expanse of skin. He smirked down at her neck, considering biting it.

“That’s it. Like you’re the hungriest man on the planet and she’s a specialcheese platter,” the photographer murmured, slinking around the set. Red snorted with a laugh. He dropped his arms down the side of hers, fingertips trailing over that creamy skin.

“I can’t believe this,” she murmured, so quietly he thought he’d imagined it. That sexy purr would enter nicely into his fantasies later.

“Now lift her up,” the photographer said, snapping his fingers. Didn’t have to ask him twice.

“You ready?” he asked her, partly out of courtesy, since she’d fixed some serious deer-in-headlights eyes on him.

She moved her head in a way that signaled neither yes nor no. His hands slipped easily over the dip in her waist. He couldn’t help the small grunt that escaped him. She was velvet and curves. He could almost make his fingers touch around the smallest part of her waist.

Red gasped as he lifted her up easily.

And then…toot.

Yep.

That was a fart.

“Oh my God,” she moaned, her hands covering her face.

The photographer smirked, that pencil mustache curving up into a sideways C. “Keep it going.”

Cobra bit back a laugh. A surprise toot never hurt anyone. A laugh escaped him despite his best efforts to contain it. When he set Red down, she groaned into her hands.

“I gotta go.”

---