Page 7 of Breaking the Habit

If Riley’s life had turned into a comic book, she’d have dollar signs in front of her eyes that afternoon.

She blinked at the swirls of her name freshly inked on a contract that she and Travis and Levi had drawn up very quickly over the past two days. Time was running out—Levi wanted her to start snapping picturesnow—and this contract was a simple but straightforward outline of the work she’d provide and what to expect.

She wanted it to cover her own ass. She trusted Travis, practically with her life, but Levi was a wild card. She could see it in the molten glint in his eye, the undercurrent of lust or mischief orsomethingthat set her on edge faster than an errant grope in the nightclub.

Her body responded to him way more than she wanted. She was on a self-imposed hiatus from men, ever since her shitty ex had made her private life go viral. It took time to recover from deception like that. Like maybe an entire lifetime.

Which meant Levi, the epitome of a Hollywood newbie hungry for the spotlight, couldn’t get anywhere near her. No matter how much those abs whispered sweet nothings to her. No matter how much her fingers tickled with the urge to touch his hair for herself.

Her sanity depended on it.

“Damn.” A smile curled across Travis’s face. “Looks like we’re legit.”

“Hell yes!” Levi raised his fists into the air.

“I’ll go make some copies,” Travis offered, pushing to standing. He let himself out of the conference room, leaving her and Levi alone.

At least he was wearing a shirt today. Hiding his body from view helped things slightly, but the white tee clung to his shoulders and biceps in a way that only reminded her of the sculpted expanses below. And dammit, she wanted to see those freckles again.

Strictly for artistic purposes, of course.

“You’ve got to be at least a little excited,” Levi said.

“I am, actually.” She offered him a smile. Maybe he could see she wasn’t a total bitch. “This is going to be interesting. And very different from what I normally do.” She paused, drumming her nails against the table. “I hope I can, you know?”

“Riley, we just met, but I believe in you one hundred percent.”

Levi’s sincere tone made her pause. She dragged her gaze up to his. What was this guy’s deal? He was some sort of inspirational, happy-go-lucky hunk. “Thanks.”

His attention sizzled over her. “But if you need help on anything, let me know.” He leaned back in his chair, resting his palms behind his head. It made his shirt stretch tighter over those biceps. Knocked the wind right out of her.

She practically needed to wipe the drool off her mouth.

“I appreciate that.”

“I’m available for…anything, really.” And there it was. The smirk that promised so much more. She frowned, feeling frustration burble hot inside her.

“Okay. I do have one consideration so far, during my first day on the job.” She leaned forward, tapping her fist against the table. “Did you or did you not hire me because you want to fuck?”

Levi’s eyes widened, and he slammed his chair back to the ground with a loudthud.“Fuck?” The fake astonishment pushed his voice to a falsetto. It was almost funny. Almost. “Like…the two of us havingsex?”

“You heard me.”

“It hadn’t even occurred to me.” He paused. “Today.”

She sighed tersely, shaking her head. Maybe this had been a bad idea. She could see where it would lead. Not as bad as Harvey Weinstein, probably, but somewhere in the James Franco region. And if she couldn’t stand anybody, it was James Franco and his intolerable smirk.

“That was a joke,” Levi said, leaning over the table. When she didn’t return his gaze, he tapped her wrist. “Hey. I’m talking to you.”

“Yeah, I hear you.”

“I hired you because your work made my chest hurt. Like, in a bad way. But also a good way. I don’t know how to describe it.” He crossed his arms, chair creaking as he leaned back. “You’re an amazing photographer. That’s all. Your psychedelic booty does not enter into the equation.”

A laugh rocketed out of her. “My psychedelic booty?”

Another one of those heartbreaker grins crossed his face. The kind she’d fallen for in the past. The kind that spelled trouble.

“You’re an artist, Riley. I can’t just say you have a nice ass, okay? That’s a little too common for you.”

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