Page 42 of Viper (Fallen Angel 2)

“What are you doing?” I said, not even bothering to mask my surprise.

Viper shrugged, but he had a smug grin on his face like he knew exactly what effect he was having on me. “Just doin’ what I’m told.” He trailed his eyes down my body to where my own pants were open and riding low on my hips and let out a low whistle. “Fuck me, Angel…”

“Later, if you’re lucky.”

“Really?” Viper’s eyes darkened. “I just might take you up on that.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Jagger said from beside Viper, and then he leaned forward to seek out Slade on the other side. “Hey, man, you wanna switch?”

“Switch? Why?” Slade asked.

Jagger shot him a look, and when it was clear Slade wasn’t following, he inclined his head toward me and Viper. But when he still didn’t get it and the photographer turned around, Jagger said, “Uh, ’cause the right side’s my better side.”

“You look fine from both sides,” Jacques said, waving him off, making it clear Jagger was stuck right where he was.

“Sorry,” I whispered to him, and Viper snorted.

“Suck it the fuck up, asshole,” he said. “You’re just jealous.”

Jagger shrugged. “Yeah, well, Halo is really pretty.”

Viper turned around, and I could only imagine the glare he gave Jagger then, because Jagger put his hands up and mumbled something I couldn’t hear, but it was enough to have Viper facing forward again.

We went through another series of shots for Jacques’ “various stages of undress” theme, and by the time it was over, I’d never been so glad for a food break.

“Halo, don’t go too far,” Jacques called out after me as I pulled the shirt off my arms and took off for the catering table. “We’ve got solo shots, but I’ll start with Killian. That goes for the rest of you too.”

Solo shots? Screw the food; where was the damn alcohol?

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so miserable, Angel,” Viper said, coming up beside me.

“I preferred the interview, which should say a lot.”

Viper reached for one of the water pitchers lined up at the end of the table. He poured a couple of glasses and handed me one.

“No thanks. I need something stronger than water.”

“That’s not water.”

I sniffed the glass and reared back. “Holy shit.”

Viper chuckled and swallowed a mouthful. “They know how to keep their artists happy. Get ’em naked and liquored up.” Viper’s eyes heated as he took in the way my pants were still undone, and the fact that I’d gotten rid of my shirt. “Have to say, I fuckin’ approve.”

God, now was not the time to be looking at Viper the way I wanted to, not with all the people milling around. I needed to steer clear of him for the rest of the shoot unless I wanted to give us away.

“You need to go away.” I sipped my vodka and turned my attention to where Killian had finished his solo shoot and they had moved on to Slade. Even he looked more comfortable in front of the camera than I’d been. Maybe the alcohol would help me loosen up a bit.

“You can’t get rid of me that easily, Angel. Like I’m goin’ anywhere when you look like you wanna jump me.”

I snorted out a laugh. “That’s exactly why you need to get the fuck away from me. What happened to keeping this shit on the down-low?”

Viper smirked and brought his drink to his lips. As he lifted his arm, he brushed it against mine, and that meant the bastard was too close. If he was making it his mission to taunt me, he was doing a damn good job.

“Halo, you’re up,” Jacques called, giving me the out I needed to get away from the tempting man beside me. I took a long swallow of my drink, tossed it in the trash, and walked away before Viper could say another word.

Keep it professional and try not to look like you’re in pain this time, I told myself as I stopped in front of Jacques. He pursed his lips as he looked me up and down, and that was when I remembered I’d stripped out of the long-sleeved shirt after the group shoot.

“Sorry, it was hot and I didn’t want to get anything on the shirt,” I said, but Jacques held his hand up, still studying me, and then he snapped his fingers at his assistant.

“Molly, get the oil,” he said, and as his assistant rushed off, my eyes bugged out.

“Did you say oil? What’s that for?”

“You wish to be naked, I will accommodate,” Jacques said. Molly came running back, the bottle uncapped and already pouring oil into her hand.

I backed up before she could reach me. “That’s okay, I’m good with a shirt. Or a jacket. A shirt and a jacket, even.”

They paid my protests no mind, Molly slathering a palmful of the oil across my abs as I inwardly cringed.

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