The Virgin’s Guide to Misbehaving (Bluebonnet #4)(33)
Author: Jessica Clare

Grant chuckled. “You have a point there. I’ll talk to Pop and see when he can get them over here.”

“Not tomorrow night,” Elise said quickly. “I’m meeting a friend in Houston.” Her face blushed bright red, and she hoped Grant wouldn’t notice.

He didn’t, though. Instead, he turned back to his fiancée. “Why the thrift store clothing idea for the wedding?”

“It’s brilliant,” Brenna told him. “We can get some dresses on the cheap, and sell them back. Don’t you think weddings are ridiculously overpriced anyhow?”

“It’s supposed to be a special day,” Grant argued, picking up his coffee mug.

Brenna rolled her eyes, adjusting her sleeping puppy on her lap. “If I want a special day, I’ll bring home a big purple dildo.”

Grant choked on the coffee he was raising to his lips.

Elise’s eyes widened and she discreetly returned to her desk so she could clean up the photos on her computer. The good thing about Brenna was that she kept Grant distracted from what was going on with Elise.

For that, Elise loved her unconventional soon-to-be sister-in-law.

She opened up one of the paintball course photos in Photoshop, pretended to work, and daydreamed about Rome’s blue eyes instead.

EIGHT

The next day, Elise went to Beth Ann’s salon early so she could set up everything for the photo shoot. She toyed with the draping cloths, placed the stool and props, did sample shots, and then moved things over and over again until she was satisfied with the angles. Then she adjusted the lighting.

When there was nothing else left to fiddle with, she went out, grabbed a pizza and brought it back to the salon, got a six-pack of sodas—not beer this time—and waited for him to arrive.

Her body tensed when she heard the sound of his motorcycle purring behind the building. Excitement shot through her—and arousal. Just knowing that he was showing up for her was a turn-on, and she had been mentally picturing things for hours on end. How she’d set up the shot. What he’d wear in the shot. The expression on his face she wanted.

The last time they’d done photos together, Beth Ann, Miranda, and Brenna had all been standing around, watching and making comments. He’d been stiff and uncomfortable, and she saw that in his face when she looked at the photos now. That wasn’t the Rome she knew—closed off, wary, and a little too alert. She wanted the carnal man who looked at her with melting blue eyes, whose long lashes made her think of sensual things, whose jaw seemed to be chiseled from marble. Whose abs were painted in symmetrical tattoos that couldn’t mask the tight body underneath. The tanned skin mixed with the silver piercings. The look in his eyes when he was aroused.

That was what she wanted to capture on film.

And it wasn’t so she could sell the photos or try pitching another layout to Crissy. This? This was for her. She wanted to see if she could capture Rome the way she saw him in her mind. She wanted to see that on film, and she wanted to prove that it wasn’t in her imagination.

She just hoped he wouldn’t chicken out on her or find things weird.

Elise headed to the back door and opened it to welcome him with a smile, just as he pulled off his helmet and swung his leg over his bike. “Hi.”

“Hey, baby,” he said, his voice so casual and sensual that it felt natural to hear the affectionate nickname come out of his mouth. “You look good.”

She glanced down at her old, faded T-shirt and jeans, and gave him a wry look. “I dressed up just for you,” she teased.

He chuckled and headed inside. “You always look good. I suppose I should have prefaced with that.” And he leaned in and gave her a kiss of greeting, his hand moving to touch her neck in a possessive gesture, as if to pull her in closer.

She went happily, anticipating his kiss, and it was just as wonderful as she remembered. His mouth on hers was firm, delicious, and hinted of incredible things to come, and for a moment she wanted to be back in his cabin, back in his bed. But he’d agreed to come for photos, so she couldn’t get distracted. With a small sigh, she eventually pulled away and gave him a little smile. “I brought pizza.”

“You’re always feeding me, aren’t you?” He grinned and gave her another quick kiss. “Do I owe you anything for it?”

“Of course not,” she said, shutting the door to the salon behind her and locking it. “Just consider it payment for the modeling job you’re going to do for me.”

He stepped into the main part of the salon, which was still draped with the neutral beige fabric, and examined it. She’d set up tables underneath the cloth in a few strategic spots and had added candles of varying heights and sizes. They were all the same bland color as the fabric, because she didn’t want them to be the focus of the photo. Dozens of them sat on each table. Rome studied them, then looked back at her. “Should I be on the lookout for rose petals and a bubble bath?”

She bit her lip, feeling a little silly at what she was proposing. “If you don’t want to do this—”

“No, I do.” He moved back toward her and wrapped his arms around her waist, dragging her body against him. “I just thought we’d be doing more mud and dirt and tough guy stuff.”

Her shyness was threatening to take over, and Elise stared at his chest, her fingertips resting on his pectorals. “I had an idea for something . . . softer. More sensual. Some candlelight, things like that. I want to see if I can get the light to play off your skin just right.”

“Whatever you want,” Rome murmured. “Do I need to get naked?”

She giggled, feeling a bit girlish and silly. “Actually, I don’t need you totally naked. Just topless. And it can wait until after pizza.”

“Sounds good to me.” He leaned in and kissed her mouth gently again. “You lead, I’ll follow.”

Elise smiled and slid out of his grasp, then headed over to the far side of the salon, where the barber chair was pushed over to the side. The pizza box sat atop it, and the other chairs in the salon were covered with equipment that had been moved out of the way. She considered the seating. “Let me clear off one of these chairs.”

“Don’t bother,” Rome told her. He sat down in the barber chair and dragged her toward him, pulling her into his lap. “Best seat in the house.”

His thighs were hard underneath her butt, and she felt strange perching in his lap. “Am I going to be too heavy for you?”