Page 41 of Recklessly You
A couple of models arrive, and lucky for us, Mila’s Uncle Roger is a well-known photographer in Manhattan for high-end models and celebrities. He passes a lot of gigs on to us, which is helping our fairly new business boom. It gets our name out. All the men crowd around, some in Speedos, others in swimming trunks or boxer briefs. It’s quite a sight, I’ll admit. Handing them the massage oil, I give them instructions on the poses they will be doing. The oil helps the photos stand out and makes their skin glisten in the sunlight.
Last summer, Mila and I did a photoshoot for a European publication. I’ll admit their site overheated me. Now I’m like, ehh, no big deal. Liam’s body is God-sent. He’s like my own personal Adonis. Angling my camera, I take the first shot of a tall guy with sandy-blond hair wearing a red Speedo.
“You’re beautiful, sweetheart,” he mutters and winks.
“Thanks,” I mutter back.
I move on to the next guy. We have twelve models, one for each day of the month since we’re shooting for a calendar. The next guy leisurely walks toward me wearing white boxer briefs. I swallow hard. I’ll admit he’s hot. He unclips a pin from his man bun and shakes his hair into a mane that rivals Mufasa’s fromTheLion King.I quickly scan his body. He has thick muscular thighs. Not as good as Liam.
“Hey, Sophie,” he breathes out, so close. “Would you be a good girl and rub some of the oil on me, babe?”
Oh, Lord.
“She won’t be oiling shit on your body. Do it your fucking self,” Liam’s voice booms.
I stumble backward, in shock at the threats I hear in Liam’s husky voice.
Mufasa lifts his hands up. “Officer, I’m sure it’s not illegal to ask a beautiful woman to oil me up and ask her out for dinner.” Mufasa offers a cocky grin.
Turning slowly, I glance up at Liam’s tall frame, glimpse his murderous scowl. My breath hitches. When Liam is in full cop mode, his demeanor is solid and protective. Good God, he’s hot in his uniform, and his ass looks great too. A shiver runs through my body and pulses between my legs. Liam stalks closer to me, my back hitting his front.Oh, heavens.
“I’d say it’s illegal when you’re hitting on my girl. She’s not yours to callbabe, and definitely not yourgood girl. She’s mine.”
My stomach does this strange thing that feels like butterflies fluttering inside. Liam wraps his warm arms around my midsection protectively.
“Sorry, man. I didn’t know she was taken.” Mufasa steps back.
I turn to look at Liam’s infuriated face. “What are you doing here?” I’m still confused by his outburst.
“I wanted to see if you would like to go to lunch, but apparently, you are getting ready to oil models up.” He stiffens his square shoulders and locks his jaw.
I place my hands on my hips and tilt my head.
“You didn’t give me a chance to answer him, Liam. I was going to tell him no.” I refrain from asking if I’m really his. And, of course, I spit out the wrong words. “And I’m not yours, even if I did agree to stay away from other guys until we call it quits.”
Silence.
“You’re right. You’re not mine,” he retorts.
My heart feels like it’s being squeezed in my chest. That was not what I wanted to hear. I feel it. I’m falling a little at a time. Now would be a good time to tap out and save my heart.
“If you want out, Sophie, just say the word. This is not a relationship. We can move on.”
I watch as his throat visibly constricts. He’s so fucking jealous. He wants nothing more than what we have going on between us. His gaze shifts away from me, and I behold the anguish in his captivating eyes, which ignites my heart. His walls are so high up, his demons caging him in. My heart aches for him. I can sense the weight of a thousand secrets dragging into his soul like an anchor tied to his feet.
What is it, Liam? What’s holding you down? I want to ask, but I can’t pry into his personal space. He needs to let it out on his own willingly. For now, I can only hope—for the short time being, I can crumble his walls and free his heart.
“I don’t want out. Not yet,” I admit. Getting on my tiptoes, I place a kiss on his lips. “Not yet,” I whisper into his lips.
“Sophie,” he says with a strained voice.
“Give me, let’s say, thirty minutes to finish up. And we can go have lunch.” I lean in to kiss him again.
He responds by pulling me closer and deepening the kiss. Our tongues dance together like waves crashing against one another. The passionate embrace feels like he’s staking out his territory, telling all other men in the vicinity that, even though he says I’m not, I’m his.
CHAPTER 14
LIAM
