Page 101 of The First Time

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"I haven't really thought about it." I hold his gaze. "Does it bother you?"

He nods.

"Really?"

"It's worth it. But I get tired of doing this—" He runs his hand through his hair and shoots me a panty-melting smirk. "In photoshoots. You ever see the poster?"

"There's a poster?"

He chuckles. "We've all got posters." He pulls his cell phone from his pocket, taps a few things, and offers it to me.

"You never got a new number." I stare into his eyes as I take the phone.

"You failed to remind me."

"Am I about to get assaulted with a naked picture message and a plea to come on some woman's tits." My cheeks flush. "I mean... you know what I mean."

"I don't," he teases. "How would you manage that angle?"

My blush spreads to my chest.

Kit's gaze follows.

The phone's browser is open to a product page of an online mega-retailer.

It's a poster of Kit lying in bed in a white t-shirt. His skinny jeans are slung low on his hips. Low enough to show off those gorgeous v-lines.

He's staring with fuck me eyes.

On the poster.

That's nothim, not really.

It's an image of a bad boy rock star.

My cheeks are burning. I try to play cool. "Only eight ninety-nine. That's a bargain."

"Check the reviews."

I look up to Kit, real Kit, but that doesn't help. This poster is grade A spank bank material. Even so, it doesn't compare to the reality of his intense eyes and his dark hair and his chiseled jaw.

I read aloud from a review. "I have this poster on the wall of my dorm room. It motivates me to study. Whenever I think about slacking off, I look over at Kit Lockhart and he shoots me that stern yet sexyyou better finish up so you can strip for melook. He's beautiful, but that isn't what I love most about him. It's how he's looking out for me. I love you, Kit. I love Dangerous Noise. And I do strip for you every night." My fingers brush Kit's as I hand the phone back. "Quite the compliment."

He's blushing.

God, he's sexy blushing.

"That girl probably masturbates to your picture every night." Not that I can talk. "How does that feel?"

"She's in a dorm room."

"And?"

"She has a roommate."

"Even so."

His eyes meet mine. "Doesn't feel like anything. She—"