I was being led over to the set to stand next to two redheads when I caught sight of King again. He was standing discreetly in the background, taking in the activity, but when his gaze caught on mine, it scorched. He was staring in the region of my cleavage like he’d just spotted the Holy Grail.
God, boys. So easily distracted by a pair of tits. Perhaps they also caused momentary insanity, and that was the reason for the way he spoke to me.
For the first half-hour of the shoot, Bradley focused on group shots. I enjoyed watching him work, because he got all serious and no-nonsense. He still kept his sense of humour, though, and I chuckled when he began trying to explain to a model the difference between fierce and smouldering.
“To smoulder, you combine a subtle pout with a slit gaze. To look fierce, you need to put your hands on your hips and stare at me like you want to fuck me and be the one on top.”
I wasn’t sure which was funnier, the look of shock on the model’s face or the idea of Bradley letting a woman ride him. He caught me snickering and gave me a playful scowl before he was back behind the camera, snapping shots and shouting orders at people. Two outfit changes later, I caught sight of King again. I was kind of surprised he was still there, because even if there were attractive woman all about, this couldn’t have been much fun for him.
And okay, maybe I’d been wishing he’d get bored and leave. It would mean I’d get to avoid the drive home and the possibility of him bringing up what he’d said earlier. He really was on a mission to push my limits today.
The outfit I currently wore was a lot more comfortable than the first. It was a plain white vest under a cream shirt with a pair of pale ripped jeans. Casual style. Bradley announced that we were taking a fifteen-minute break, which was a relief, because I was starving. I avoided searching for King and instead made my way over to catering. Picking up a plate, I loaded it with sandwiches and grabbed a bottle of water. Then I wandered to the far corner of the studio, sat down on a window ledge, and began to eat.
“Alexis.” I heard King say my name right before he came and sat in front of me, close enough that I could smell his cologne.
“Oh, hi,” I said, refusing to make eye contact. It was a good thing I had the window to stare out of.
I was just about to start in on my second sandwich when he caught my wrist. “Do I need to apologise for how I spoke earlier? If I do, just tell me, and I will. I don’t want to jeopardise our friendship.”
Now I finally looked at him, tilting my head as I considered his words. “Do you feel like you should apologise?”
He shifted closer, his knee knocking against mine. “I only said what I was thinking. I told you before that tact wasn’t my strong suit.”
I let out a breath. “It’s fine. Just try not to be so…pushy in the future.”
“As you wish,” said King, holding his hand out for me to shake. He was so weird, but I shook with him anyway, trying to ignore how much I enjoyed the feel of his palm on mine. A silence elapsed, and I noticed he hadn’t gotten anything to eat.
“Do you want to share some of these?” I asked, gesturing to my plate, on which I’d put way too many sandwiches. “I won’t eat them all. My eyes are bigger than my belly.”
King gave me a slow smile, then reached forward to pick one up. “Thank you. That’s very generous of you to offer.”
God, I loved how he spoke sometimes. It was like, if I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend he was Firth doing Darcy. We sat and chatted as we ate until I became aware of a third presence. Turning my head, I saw Bradley standing a few feet away, a camera held to his face as he snapped shots of King and me.
“What are you up to?” I called, and he stopped taking pictures, lowering the camera and walking towards us. King sat beside me, silently observing.
“You two look great together,” Bradley gushed before shoving the camera at me. “Here, take a peek.” I did as he said and flicked through the most recent shots. They showed me with King from various angles, chatting and laughing. We looked so…at ease with one another. And wow, King really did photograph well. He could pass for a model. And then Bradley almost echoed my thoughts when he looked to King.
“How do you feel about being in some of the shots? We’d pay you for your time, of course. Baha do a men’s line, and there are still some clothes left over from yesterday’s shoot.”
King eyed him, quiet for a long moment before he asked, “Would Alexis be in the pictures with me?”
“Of course!” Bradley exclaimed. “That’s the main reason I want you to do it. You two look amazing in pictures.” Now he took the camera from me and handed it to King, who immediately scrolled through the shots. He didn’t say anything for a minute, his expression thoughtful as he took them in. I had no idea what he was going to say when he finally handed the camera back to Bradley.
“I’ll do it.”
“What?!” I screeched.
“Wonderful!” Bradley exclaimed. He was already rushing off to find an outfit for King when I turned to face my boss. “You’re going to model? Seriously? What if someone who knows you ends up seeing the pictures?”
He gave a tiny shrug and stared at me dead on. “What I do in my free time is my own business.”
I narrowed my gaze at him, feeling like he was up to something, but I wasn’t quite sure what. A minute later Bradley was back, holding nothing but a pair of pale blue jeans. They had tears at the knees and were almost an exact replica of mine, except they were the men’s version.
“Here’s your ensemble,” he chirped, and handed the jeans to King.
I gaped and pointed. “That is not an ensemble. That’s one item. Where’s his shirt?”
Now Bradley waggled his brow. “He won’t be wearing one.”
To his credit, King didn’t bat an eyelid. In fact, he chuckled while shaking his head.
“Oh, come on,” I protested. “You can’t be serious. This is a fashion shoot, not a…a sex shoot.”
“Oooh,” Bradley crooned precociously, “sign me up for one of those. And you forget, my darling Lexie, that sex sells.” He pinched me on the nose, and I scowled.
Bradley shot me a confused glance then, obviously not entirely getting why I was disgruntled. It made me suddenly realise I was arguing about having to see Oliver King topless. Yeah, I didn’t understand it, either. Clamping my mouth shut, I let my friend give us both instructions.
Before I knew it, the rest of the models had been told to take an extended break and it was just me, King, Bradley, and a handful of other people left in the studio. King went behind one of the aforementioned privacy screens to change, Bradley telling him to take off his shoes and socks as well. Then he told me to do the same.
Good God.
What was I getting myself into? It wasn’t long before a fancy lounge chair had been plopped smack bang in the middle of the set by the props guy. King emerged in jeans and nothing else, and I practically choked on my own tongue. My boss was ripped. Even his bare feet were beautiful. He had gorgeously wide shoulders, muscular pecs, defined abs, and a “V” to die for. Not to mention a light natural tan. He had an even better body than my ex, Stu, and I knew he had to be one of those annoyingly smug health freaks who got up at four in the morning just to exercise.
Yes, that was it. I needed to keep focusing on the vain smugness of someone who worked that hard on their body, rather than the fact that it made me want to crawl all over him. The problem was, he didn’t look smug. King wore an expression that was all, Here I am, take me or leave me, which only functioned to make him even more irresistible.
Take him, some deep, feminine part of me pleaded.
I noticed Bradley looking at King in almost the exact same way I was. Biting on his lip, he muttered under his breath, “Oh, we are going to sell some serious amount of jeans after this.”