Page 21 of Trustfall
“Down a little farther.” He lowered himself another foot. “Okay, that’s perfect. Now, I want you to hold the rope with both hands.” I reached out for the wall and edged my torso forward until the belt buckle on my harness scraped over the lip of the floor, allowing my vantage point to see directly down the center of the shaft. “And look?—”
“Whoa, whoa, what are you doing?” Cruz’s voice was full of alarm.
“It’s fine, I got this.” I tightened my grip on the camera.
“Ari—”
“Just give me those smoldering eyes again.” I adjusted my settings until the depth of field was perfect. His gloved hands filled the bottom center of my lens as hints of the cable supporting his weight blended in tandem against the swollen veins in his forearms. The sides of the shot were framed beautifully by his broad shoulders, but the angle of his chin wasn’t right. “Hand me your helmet; the tight quarters aren’t doing you any favors.”
“Sheesh, way to throw water on my ego.”
My camera dangled from my neck. “Hey, a friend wouldn’t do another friend dirty like that. I’m just trying to give your fan club what they want.” I reached for the helmet and tossed it behind me with a thud. “You blushing, Cruz?”
“Can we just get this over with?”
“What? Not enjoying my company?”
“It’s not that?—”
“Just give me one more minute. Lock in.”
With the helmet gone, I rolled on my side, allowing more light into the scene. I smiled, knowing this was going to be the winner. The way his eyes filled with playful hunger and just the right amount of fire blazing back at me through the lens was enough to melt the panties off the ladies who worshipped these calendars.
“All done.”
“Great, now get your ass back over the edge.”
“You know I’m harnessed up, too, right? I’m not in any danger of falling.”
“Hazard of the job.” He said in a steady voice. “And you’re not getting hurt on my watch.”
“So, I can’t get a piggyback ride to the bottom?” I looked down the shaft.
“Hell no!” His face turned beet red. “What did I ever do to make you hate me?” he hissed.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I teased because I knew what he was getting at.
“Sure you don’t. See you at the bottom.” He winked before descending, leaving me alone to gather my wits before I was to capture the last person needed to complete the calendar.
God, my nerves were eating me alive. It had been an entire afternoon of back-to-back photo shoots without any real sustenance unless you considered crumbs at the bottom of the donut box as substance. I was in desperate need of some liquid courage to face my last subject of the day.
Mr. December.
I deliberately hadn’t looked at the notes I’d been given for the final month, as I didn’t want any distractions from the other first responders. I could only imagine what debauchery Tara had planned.
Mistletoe hanging from a halo over his head.
A stocking hanging from his?—
No, he’d take a page out of JT’s book and put his junk in a box so he could get himself off on teasing and taunting me to unwrap it.
Lick it like a lollipop.
Ugh! I hated that I was picturing it.
I hated the way the corner of his mouth twitched into a hotter-than-sin smirk as if he could read my thoughts.
I hated the way my body betrayed my head and responded to his presence, but most of all, I hated that he knew it.
