Page 56 of Pose for Me

When we finally part, I'm breathless. "I thought you were being careful," I whisper, my voice barely audible. "In case I was being watched."

Knox's eyes, a swirling mix of green and gold, bore into mine. "No," he murmurs, his breath ghosting over my lips. "We need whoever it is to be curious instead of angry. We didn’t want them storming off at us coming in unannounced, we want them to see this is an official visit and get closer to find out why."

My eyes widen, my heart stuttering in my chest. "Why?" I breathe, searching Knox's face for answers.

River steps closer, his presence warm at my back. "They always avoid the known cameras," he explains, his voice low and intense. "So we installed some more in the middle of the night, but facing out all the windows. If the stalker comes to investigate, we should hopefully get a face shot."

I blink rapidly, my attention ping-ponging between the two men. The realization hits me like a physical blow—they weren't really here to see me. They want to solve a case. Am I too much of a burden to them?

The thought sends a cold tendril of doubt coiling through my gut. I take an unconscious step back, bumping into River's solid chest. His arms come around me instinctively, steadying me.

"Rayne?" Knox's voice is tinged with concern. His brow furrows as he studies my face, clearly sensing the shift in my mood.

I shake my head, trying to dispel the negative thoughts. "It's nothing," I mutter, averting my gaze. But even as I say it, I can feel myself withdrawing, building walls around my heart.

River's arms tighten around me, his chest rumbling as he speaks. "Oh no, little Rayne. Don't you dare start thinking what I think you're thinking."

I stiffen in his embrace, feeling exposed and vulnerable. How can he read me so easily? Am I that transparent? The doubts swirl in my mind, growing louder with each passing second.

Knox narrows his eyes at me, his gaze sharp and assessing as he rubs a thumb across his lower lip. For a moment, I imagine he's rubbing away the taste of me, erasing the evidence of our kiss. The thought sends a pang through my chest, intensifying the swirl of insecurity already churning in my gut.

I'm acutely aware of how I must look to them–tall and awkward, too curvy, too large. Nothing like the svelte, graceful women I'm sure they're used to. My loose dress suddenly feels like a shapeless sack, hiding my flaws but also obscuring any hint of femininity. I resist the urge to cross my arms over my chest, to make myself smaller under their scrutiny.

River's teeth graze the back of my neck, a sharp nip that sends shivers cascading down my spine. His breath is warm against my skin as he speaks, voice low and husky. "You're thinking too loud, little Rayne. And I bet every thought in that pretty head of yours is wrong."

I open my mouth to protest, but before I can form the words, Knox moves. He takes two swift steps away from us, his broad shoulders taut with tension. My heart sinks, convinced he's about to leave, to walk away from the complicated mess I've become. But then he stops, turning back to face us with a predatory grace that steals my breath.

"Come here," Knox commands, his voice a low growl that reverberates through my body. River's arms loosen around me, his hands sliding to my hips. With gentle pressure, he propels me forward toward Knox. My bare feet glide across the cool hardwood, each step bringing me closer to Knox's imposing form.

As I reach him, Knox's strong hands wrap around my upper arms, his touch firm yet tender. He turns me with deliberate slowness until I'm facing the ornate full-length mirror propped in the corner of the studio. The antique gold frame gleams in the afternoon light.

In the reflection, I see myself–tall and curvy, the loose fabric of my dress rippling softly with each breath. Knox stands close behind me, his broad chest nearly touching my back. The contrast between us is striking–his crisp white shirt against the deep blue of my dress, his tanned skin a warm backdrop to my paler complexion.

I turn my head, intending to locate River, but Knox's arm snakes around my body. His fingers grip my chin firmly, forcing me to face forward again. The pads of his fingers are slightly calloused, a delicious friction against my skin.

"Eyes on the mirror, baby girl," Knox growls, his lips brushing the shell of my ear. "I want you to see what we see when we look at you."

Knox's hand splays across my stomach, the heat of his palm seeping through the thin fabric of my dress. His fingers flex, pressing me back against his solid chest. I can feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against my spine, a soothing counterpoint to my own racing pulse.

"Look at yourself, Rayne," Knox commands, his voice a low rumble that I feel more than hear. "Really look."

I force myself to meet my own gaze in the mirror. My eyes are wide, pupils dilated with a mixture of arousal and uncertainty. A flush has spread across my cheeks, staining them a delicate pink. My long, dark hair falls in soft waves over my shoulders, framing my face.

Knox's eyes lock with mine in the reflection. The intensity of his gaze makes me want to look away, but his grip on my chin prevents it. "You encourage others to love themselves almost every day," he says, his voice soft but firm. "You show them their beauty, their strength, their worth. But you neglect to take any of your own words to heart."

His words hit me like a physical blow. I want to protest, to deny it, but I know he's right. How many times have I told my clients to embrace their bodies, to love themselves unconditionally, while secretly criticizing every perceived flaw in my own reflection?

"We see you, Rayne," Knox continues, his lips brushing against my ear. "We see all of you. Your strength, your compassion, your fierce protectiveness of those you care about. We see the way you light up when you're behind the camera, how you come alive as you work your magic. The way you coax beauty and confidence out of even the most hesitant subjects."

His hand slides up from my stomach, skimming over my ribs to cup my breast through the thin fabric of my dress. I gasp at the contact, my nipple hardening against his palm.

"We see this body that you try so hard to hide," Knox murmurs, his voice low and intense. "These lush curves that you drape in loose fabric, as if you're ashamed of them. But there's nothing to be ashamed of, Rayne. Your body is a work of art."

His other hand releases my chin, trailing down my neck to trace my collarbone. "Your skin is like porcelain, flawless and soft. I want to map every inch of it with my tongue, to learn every freckle and beauty mark."

Knox's hands move to my hips, gripping them firmly. He pulls me back against him, and I can feel the hard length of him pressing against my ass. "These hips were made for our hands," he growls. "Perfect for gripping as we thrust into you, for steadying you as you ride us."

"Your breasts," he murmurs, cupping them gently through my dress, "are perfect. Full and soft, they fit my hands like they were made for me. I love the way they bounce when you move, the way your nipples harden at the slightest touch."

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