Page 27 of The Friend

“Being friends with you is hard enough. I have a feeling whatever we get up to for the rest of the week is going to drive me over the edge.”

“That’s the whole point, isn’t it?” She ran a finger down his chest, revelling in her newfound power to make him drool.

“Work first, remember?” He whispered in her ear before planting a featherlight kiss on the lobe, setting her nerve endings alight.

“Work? What work?” She swayed towards him, her legs turning to jelly at his barest touch, knowing she’d lose it completely when they finally got around to doing loads of touching on hot, bare skin.

Placing a finger under her chin, he tipped it up. “You know what work is. That thing that comes before play,” he said, caressing her bottom lip with his thumb and short-circuiting her synapses in the process as they fired mixed messages between her brain and her body until she couldn’t think straight let alone resist him.

“Save it for the honeymoon, you two. We’ve got a job to do.” Tom cleared his throat and Abby leapt away like a teenager found necking the high school jock, and Tom and Tara laughed.

Since when did she get so caught up swapping quips with Judd she forgot the task at hand, let alone flirting with him in front of others?

She’d lost the plot, and if she wanted to keep her job beyond this fling, or whatever the two of them were crazy enough to embark on, she needed to stay focussed on something other than the sexy man grinning at her.

“Okay, folks. Enough of the funny stuff. Let’s get to work,” she said, brusque and businesslike.

Tom saluted and picked up his camera, Tara snapped her hands together in a producer’s sign for action, and Judd switched into work mode, helping Tom sort out the best lighting spots.

“Listen up, buddy. You can’t be model and photographer. Just relax and do as you’re told,” Tom said, positioning them beneath a towering palm for the first shot. “I’m a professional, remember?”

“Famous last words,” Judd muttered, obeying, though Abby could see the strain on his face.

She laid a comforting hand on his sleeve. “It’s hard not being in control, huh?”

“You said it.”

Their gazes locked and for a brief second she wondered if he was looking forward to losing control as much as she was.

Thankfully, the moment passed and for the next two hours they posed, preened, and acted like the happiest couple on earth as Tom barked directions, ably supported by a smug Tara who took to her photographer’s assistant role with glee.

Abby’s cheeks ached from smiling, her neck ached from posing, and deep down she ached for Judd, who’d taken every chance he got over the last few hours to touch her.

“This should be the final few shots,” Tom said, pointing towards the trunk of a bent palm tree. “Judd, why don’t you takea seat and settle Abby on your lap? I’ll do a few close ups with the two of your faces leaning towards each other to capture the detail on the dress’s bodice.”

“You heard what the man said.” Judd sat and patted his lap, while Abby’s heart stalled before kick-starting with a thump.

Brushing up against him, having his hand in the small of her back, and standing squashed to his side had been torment enough; sitting on his lap would notch up the sensual torture to unbearable.

“You’re enjoying this way too much,” she muttered, perching on his knees as if poised for flight, trying to ignore the way her pulse pounded and her skin prickled at the contact.

“What’s not to enjoy?” He slid his hand up her back and she stiffened when his palm left the silk of the dress and skidded onto her bare skin.

Her stomach plummeted as he inched higher, caressing the nape of her neck, his fingers skimming her rigid muscles in the softest massage, his touch far from therapeutic.

“You’re so tense,” he murmured, sliding his free hand around her waist as if he sensed her instinct to bolt.

Not that she could’ve moved if she wanted to, considering her legs had turned to jelly the second he touched her.

“We’re nearly done and the shoot’s gone great. No need to worry.”

“Do I look worried?” She bit down on her lower lip to keep from crying out as his fingers slid into the base of her hair, gently massaging her scalp in slow, erotic, circles.

“You look ravishing,” he murmured, wriggling forward a fraction while strengthening the grip on her waist. “Relax into me. Tom won’t call it quits until we nail these final shots and I know how much you want to get to the good part.”

“The good part?” It came out a squeak as she wriggled back far enough to encounter evidence of a very good part indeed.

“The honeymoon,” he murmured, his teasing laugh as soft and seductive as his touch. “Don’t forget you’re in my debt. You never know what I may ask you to do.”

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