Thrust (5 page)

“Good. Let’s just finish the kitchen, go eat, and then we’ll finish the other boxes before I take off for my shoot.”

Tori freezes from reaching into the box and spins on her heels to look at me. I may have forgotten to tell her that little detail. “What shoot?”

I shrug my shoulders at her while ripping the tape off the box of pans. “Kyan . . . the guy I met at the bar on Friday.”

“Yeah.” She pushes my shoulder. “Go on.”

Ignoring the fact that she’s standing directly over my shoulder like a damn creeper, I start putting the pans away. “He’s my personal trainer. A local author asked him to be on her book cover and he asked me to photograph him.”

“What!” She shrieks. “You get to photograph this cute, good smelling guy that you didn’t kiss and you didn’t even bother to tell me about it?” She slaps me in the back of the head with a whisk.

I whip my head in her direction with my mouth open in shock. “You, hooker. You just hit me.”

She hits me again, but on the shoulder this time. “And you kept something from me. We’re even.”

“You think at least,” I say barely above a whisper.

She looks down at me now holding a wooden spoon. “What was that?”

I grin up at her. “Nothing. Let’s hurry up so we can eat. Being hungry is brewing a love/hate relationship with you.”

“I second that,” she mumbles. “So stop talking so much and work.”

I TOSS MYSELF DOWN ONTO my bed with a full tummy. Dane was downstairs at the bar and he recommended the garlic wings and garlic wedges. HOLY shit they were delicious! I don’t know who the chef was, but I so would have kissed him if he showed himself. He didn’t, so I settled with kissing Dane on the cheek since he was
only
the one that suggested them.

Rolling over flat on my stomach, I look down at my phone to check the time. We stayed down at the bar longer than expected. I have less than forty-five minutes before I have to be at Kyan’s.

His words,
wear something comfortable,
run through my head as I stand in front of my closet. Maybe I should just surprise him and go with his second option:
nothing at all.

I laugh at the thought, trying to picture his face if I were to show up like that. I wonder what would happen. Would he throw me across his bed and give me the best fucking of my life, or would he laugh at me and send me home to put some clothes on? The second thought gives me a sinking feeling in my stomach.

That would be humiliating.

Standing in the shower, I start to picture the first option: him coming to his door and let’s say . . . shirtless. Yeah, that sounds good. He comes to his door shirtless, wearing only a pair of snug fitting jeans.

Closing my eyes, I start to touch myself, slowly massaging my clit. I’m surprised at how sensitive it feels already.

He notices me standing in his doorway naked, so he wraps an arm around my waist and pulls me into his apartment . . . or maybe he just tosses me over his shoulder like a caveman. He does seem a bit on the rough side.

I start to rub myself harder and faster as more thoughts and scenarios of Kyan run through my head. It doesn’t take long before my legs become shaky and I find myself holding onto the wall, panting as my orgasm washes through me.

“Oh wow. Oh wow,” I repeat, breathless.

A stupid grin tugs at my lips as I lean my head against the shower wall. It’s been a while since I’ve experienced an orgasm that quick. It sometimes can take up to twenty minutes. That’s no fun.

I jump when I hear the toilet flush. “Shit!” I poke my head out of the shower door to Tori washing her hands. “What the hell? How long have you been in here?”

She smiles while drying her hands on the pink and brown towel. “Oh wow! Oh wow!”

Grunting, I turn the shower water off. “Haven’t you ever heard of privacy?” I can’t help but to smile at Tori’s face as she makes an O with her mouth. “Laugh all you want, but it felt good as shit; probably even better than those half-assed ones that Brad gives you.”

Her face turns serious. “Shit. I told you about those?”

Reaching for my towel, I laugh and nod my head. “Yup! All I have to do is give you a bottle of wine and you like to talk.” I get in her face and start moving my hand as if it is her mouth. “Talk. Talk. Talk. I’d be careful if I were you.”

I push her with my hip and walk past her. “Maybe Brad should get his lazy tongue checked out. Aren’t there some kind of tongue exercises he can do for crying out loud?”

“I wish,” she mumbles.

“I need to get ready for my photography date.” I grin, and walk away, leaving her probably hating Brad and his unsatisfying tongue. Strangely, that leaves me satisfied.

Holding my camera, I run my hand down the front of my white shirt. He said to dress comfortably, so I did. I settled on a pair of cut off denim shorts, a loose shirt, and a pair of my worn out Chucks. I have my thick hair pulled to the side in a loose ponytail. Swallowing, I knock.

It only takes a few seconds before Kyan is standing before me looking even sexier than the last couple times I have seen him.
How is that even possible? He’s magic, that’s how. I wonder what kind of spells he can work with his tongue . . .

He’s dressed in a black V-neck shirt that hugs his broad chest so perfectly that I start to believe that shirt was made specifically for him. Lowering my gaze, my eyes widen as they take in the way his thick legs look hugged in his dark, form-fitting jeans.

He rests his arm above him in the doorway and I unknowingly lift an eyebrow as his shirt slightly lifts, revealing a thin happy trail, leading into the top of his black boxer briefs.

“Ms. Reynolds,” he says with a knowing smirk. “Looks like you were free after all.” He steps away from the doorway, allowing me to enter.

I take a few seconds to look around as he closes and
locks
the door behind us. Setting my camera down onto the marble counter top, I walk over to the black, plush couch and push down on a cushion. “Oohhh . . .”

He gives me an amused smile. “It feels even better when you lay on it . . . especially when you’re naked, in the dark, just closing your eyes and getting lost in your thoughts.” He looks up to meet my eyes. “I find myself doing that a lot after a long, hard day at work.”

I suck in a breath and try to hide my silly grin as I picture just
that
in my head. “I can imagine,” I say.

“I’m sure you can.” He walks into the kitchen and reaches above him in the cabinet. “I’m going to have a beer while we work. Will wine work for you? I’m not sure if beer is your thing.” I hear a hint of humor in his voice, so I make a face at him before nodding my head.

When he walks back into the living room, he sets a glass of red wine down onto his coffee table before handing me a piece of printed paper.

“Those are her visions for the shoot. I already know what she wants me to wear so as long as you can pull off the rest . . .” He pauses to take a swig of his beer. “Then everything is all good.”

I swallow hard as my eyes scroll over the words on the paper. I’ve
never,
and I mean as in
ever
done a photo shoot so exposed and personal before. According to this piece of paper I’ll be photographing him in two different places: a white room, and in his bed. What he will be wearing . . . now that is his little secret and for me to find out, but from the covers I’ve seen floating around these days; I’m going to guess it’s going to leave me sweating my ass off and wiping drool from my chin.

Reaching for my glass of wine, I smile nervously and lift it to my lips. I take a long swig before wiping my mouth off.
At least it’s not drool.
“I’m ready when you are.”

Kyan watches me over his beer as he tilts it back. He sets the bottle down next to my glass. “We’ll start with the white wall.” He nods to the open door to our right. “I have a tripod set up and all the necessary equipment that you’ll need to get the right angles. I wanted to make it as easy on you as possible.”

“Perfect,” I say, trying to sound as professional as possible. “I’ll go set up my camera while you get ready.”

Quickly, I reach for my camera and hurry into the white room. There’s nothing in here except for camera equipment. I hear Kyan enter the room, but I focus on turning on my camera and getting it placed in the tripod.

I hear him shuffling around and getting ready. When I look up again, I see him pulling his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. Of course my eyes have a mind of their own and I end up checking him out in slow motion as he stands there shirtless, his tight muscles flexing as he leans against the wall, waiting for me to pull my shit together.

I’ve never seen a man with such a beautiful body in my life. The last time I have been this fascinated with a man’s body was in high school.
Hunter . . .
That was one fine man. Now, it’s with my neighbor and damn personal trainer.

I may have released a little moan when his V of muscles appeared as he tugged his jeans down to where he wanted them.

I will not run over there and lick them. I will not run over there and lick them . . .

I shake my thoughts off and start giving him orders. I am pleased with every single shot that I take. That never happens. Kyan is just so naturally sexy that it takes no effort for him to pose, making it easier to feel professional. I quickly get into it.

I tell him to bring his left arm to the right side of his head and look at me through his arm, and he does. The way his body is placed, all of the right muscles flexed and on display are fucking flawless.

“Perfect,” I say a little breathy. “Now stand with your back facing the wall and bend your right arm over your head. He flexes his jaw and gives me a seductive look as I snap a few pictures. “That’s so good, Kyan. You’re a natural.”

We do a few more poses before I decide that we’re ready for the next session of the shoot. We’ve been working on the white wall shoot for nearly forty minutes now and we have well over a hundred good shots.

Kyan is watching me with a lazy smirk as I look down at my camera. “I guess the next spot is in my bedroom. Not many girls get invited in there.” He tugs on the end of my ponytail as his eyes roam over my body. “Good thing you dressed comfortably. You need to be flexible for this part.”

I watch the way his ass and back muscles move as he exits the room. “Holy shit,” I say to myself. I pull my shirt away from my chest as I get an instant rush of heat through my body. He does this on purpose; uses the perfect words to make a girl sweat bullets. He’s sexy, smooth, and successful; the perfect blend of trouble.

I stop in his doorway and watch him as he undoes his jeans and tugs at his zipper. His eyes meet mine and stay there, as he drops his jeans and kicks them aside. I can’t help but to take notice of his thick thighs and how they flex whenever he moves.

Drool . . . don’t expose yourself now.

He walks over to stand in front of me and reaches for my camera, setting it down on the foot of his bed. It sinks into the thick, white blanket and we both watch it before locking eyes again.

“Show me how you want my boxers.” Grabbing my arms, he places my hands on the top of his briefs.

“Excuse me?”

He takes my fingers and hooks them into the front of his black briefs. “Pull them down to where you want them. Show me.”

This is too much power. Too much power is
never
a good thing. I gently tug them down a bit, exposing the top of his hipbones.

He laughs. “Are you uncomfortable with me being in my boxers?” He pulls me toward him. “Let’s fix that.”

Before I know it he’s on his knees, tugging my shorts down my legs.

I instantly get embarrassed. “What are you doing?” He grabs my hips and lifts me as he kicks his foot out and pushes my shorts across the floor.

“There. Now we’re both in our underwear. Better?”

I look down at my black, lacy panties, before looking up to see that he’s biting his bottom lip. Again, he always seems to do that when he shows interest.

I feel silly so I start to laugh. “Are you serious?”

He reaches for my hands again and practically shoves them into the top of his briefs. “Dead serious.” He flashes his dimples. “Now take control and show me how you want my boxers.”

The power behind his demand feeds me and I find myself tugging his black briefs down until the top of his thick shaft is exposed, along with the top part of his muscular ass.

He looks down and lifts an eyebrow. “Better.” He hands me my camera before he walks around the side of the bed and tugs the huge blanket off, leaving nothing but a black, silk sheet.

I feel oddly confident standing here in my underwear about to photograph America’s sexiest bachelor. I’m not sure if this is a temporary confidence, but it feels good. I’m having fun. I find myself kicking my shoes aside and jumping onto his bed while trying to balance my camera.

He smiles up at me as he lies down on his back and adjusts the sheet so that it’s between his legs. Without my direction, he places one hand behind his head and waits for me to start snapping pictures. It seems with each click of the button that his briefs start to get lower and lower, exposing more of his body.