Page 68 of The Temporary Fiancée
Click.
“That’s the best one yet,” the photographer calls out. The sound of his voice breaks the spell, and suddenly, to my dismay, Reed and I are no longer the only people in the world.
Reed pulls away from me. There’s a brief flash of disappointment across his face, then he’s all charm again, smiling over at the photographer.
“Let me see,” he says, striding away. I resist the urge to reach out and grab him by the arm. Instead, I follow him over to the tripod to check the photos.
The photographer takes us through a dozen quality shots. There’s one of Reed dipping me over his arm. My face is contorted in mid-laugh, and I hear Reed chuckle quietly next to me. When I shoot him a glare, he shrugs.
“It’s cute,” he promises. “Really. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”
In the next photo, my head is leaned against Reed’s chest. Then there’s a shot of Reed holding me, his hand cupping my cheek. Then several of our kiss and its aftermath from multiple angles.
They look stunning. If I didn’t know better, I’d think that these photos were the real deal.
Something about seeing our kiss in a photograph stirs the feelings of desire and warmth within me all over again, and I glance at Reed out of the corner of my eye, wondering whether he feels the same way.
Our gazes meet. Heat creeps into my face, and I look back at the camera’s screen, quickly, before I can dwell on it.
“Thank you,” Reed says to the photographer. “These look great.”
The photographer gives him a nod. His earlier annoyance seems to have faded; his attitude is much more genial now that he’s taken some pleasing pictures. Plus, he has Reed’s bonus to look forward to.
“Glad you like them,” he says. “Obviously, I’ll need to touch them up back in the studio before they’re ready to be released, but it shouldn’t take too long.”
“Sounds great.” Reed shakes his hand, then turns to me, holding out his hand.
Chapter 17
Olivia
We walk backto the car in amicable silence, which extends to the car ride—we have to give the photographer and his equipment a lift back to the studio, and while he’s in the front seat, we’re wordless in the back.
It would be awkward, but all I can think about is the tension between myself and Reed. The emotions pulling us together. The feeling of his thumb caressing my cheek.
After we drop the photographer off, Reed casually rolls up the plastic partition, blocking off the front seat of the car—giving us some much-needed privacy. Still, though, we’re quiet. Nothing happens. Nothing but loaded glances.
I spend the drive mentally measuring the distance between our hands, inches apart on the leather seat.
When we get back to The Luxe, we stand beside each other in the elevator, not making eye contact. The air feels hot between us. It’s almost suffocating.
Just when I think I can’t take it anymore, he leans over to me, his breath tingling on my neck. “That was… something.”
I make a strangled sound of agreement.
“There are so many things I wanted to do to you,” he whispers to me. A shiver goes down my spine. “I wish I could act on all of those wishes.”
My thighs clench together—I wonder if he notices.Fuck,I want that. I’m so turned on by him right now, so attracted to him.
I want him, and I’m tired of pretending I don’t.
I don’t know how much longer I’ll beableto pretend I don’t.
I swallow the caution that rises in me, and blurt out, “Maybe this isn’t the best way to do things.”
He blinks at me, surprised. “What do you mean?”
“The contract,” I explain, before my rational mind can stop me. “Maybe the contract isn’t the best idea. Maybe we’re just heading for disaster.”
