“Why be sorry?” His dimples deepen as he looks me up and down. “You should live in this dress, Queen. Day in and day out.” He plants a quick peck on the top of my head and brushes my hair behind my back and follows up with a kiss on my neck, then my bare shoulder.
“You clean up nice yourself.” To no one’s surprise, Finn is dressed impeccably. His clean tan slacks are wrinkle-free and pair nicely with his long-sleeved black dress shirt with subtle gray pinstripes. Does he have this much style on his own, or does Lennox dress him too? I poke him in the chest playfully but let my fingers linger when I feel the electricity pulsing through them. When am I going to get tired of this? When will enough be enough? Because lately, I have to cross my legs when I’m around Finn to control the instant urge. I’ve never felt like this. I’ve never needed sex like this before. It’s never been this fun.
My fingers trail down his chest, over the bumps of his tight six-pack covered by the thin fabric of his shirt. He lets me tap teasingly against his belt a few times before he grabs my hand. “No time, Avery. And anyway, I want to show you something.”
He laces his fingers with mine and leads me past the small seating area. We pause in front of a closed door and Finn turns to face me. Sometimes, he takes me off guard. At times when I’m least expecting it, he stuns me with his gaze. I gawk at him like a deer in blinding headlights because it’s so easy to talk to him that sometimes I forget how fucking incredibly good-looking he is.
“You okay?” he asks, his brows furrowing in puzzlement.
I clear my throat and force myself to blink, feeling how heavy my fake eyelashes are. “Yes. Fine. What’s up?”
“Remember how you said I should use a model for the new website?”
“Yes…”
I ran Finn through a lot of suggestions. None of which he seemed particularly thrilled about. I suggested that he set up partnerships with lingerie stores within a twenty-mile radius and offer a discount on his services for customers of boutiques willing to hand out his card. He shrugged. He said it felt like heckling.
I also suggested he film a few photography lessons for educational purposes to give tips and tricks to amateur photographers just starting out in the business. Educational content is fantastic for SEO. Again, he thanked me for the suggestion but brushed it off.
I ran him through click traffic, promotion packaging, raising his pricing, adjusting the studio hours, and paying for ads in newsletters and bulletins. All fell on deaf ears, except the rebranding. I came up with a new logo and new business name. Finn Photography. No Harvey. We ditched the lousy tri-circle design he had and instead, I mocked up an iridescent shark fin on a clean black surface. That he loved. He was really enthusiastic about the designs I drafted for the new business cards and flyers I emailed him. They are just mockups. I’ll send them to a professional designer to really take them to the next level. In the meantime, we’ve been stuck on the website.
I always tell my clients that a website needs to tell a story…without telling a story. It has to be subtle. It has to be an energy. There is a way to evoke emotion with colors and fonts, and good branding is what hooks and keeps a client.
Finn needs a model to show off his boudoir photography skills. We need images that are tasteful, yet edgy. We need women to see an image and want to picture themselves in the scene. I was under the impression Finn would reach out to a former client to get their permission to use certain pictures, but judging by the look on his face, he wildly misjudged what I meant.
“You,” he says simply. “I want you. You’re perfect.” He opens the door and I suck in a sharp breath at the sight.
The floor is covered in black flower heads. It’s a sea of wrong-colored roses. It feels like walking right into a black-and-white photograph. The entire room is decorated in black, white, and cream. There’s a coolness…and edge…a certain moodiness. The four-poster bed is made up with white sheets and sprinkled with pearl-white rose petals. What looks like ink is spilled across the edge, dripping to the floor. I run my finger over the dark spill. It’s glue…or wax, whatever it is, it’s solid. Every detail, down to the string of pearls draped over the vanity mirror, is intricately placed.
“This is incredible, Finn. It’s tragic and haunting, but beautiful. It’s so…sexy.”
“All Lennox,” he says from behind me as I step farther into the room, trying not to squish the fake roses surrounding my feet.
“It reminds me of…” I roll my wrist in the air as I trail off and search my brain. “What are those black-and-white movies called?”
“Film noir.”
“Exactly. Film noir. I love this. This is going to do so well with clients. When are you going to start shooting in here?” I spin around to face him, a wide smile on my face. He returns a half smile, his expression sly and teasing.
“I have to adjust the lighting, but I’m ready to do a test session. How about after dinner you be my guinea pig?”
“No.”
“Tomorrow?” he offers.
“Not good either.”
He scrunches his face. “Well, when’s good for you?”
I return his quizzical stare. “When guinea pigs fly.” I shake off his ridiculous expression and hold my hand out. “Come on. Aren’t we going to be late to meet your dad?”
“Avery,” Finn scolds.
“Finn,” I say, just as sternly. “Let it go. It’s not happening. You’re not photographing me in here or anywhere. Especially not with my clothes off. End of discussion. Let’s go.”
He grabs my hand but doesn’t take my lead. Instead, he yanks me against his body. He wraps his strong arms around my waist and holds me in a bear’s grip. When he feels my body relax, he reaches up with one hand and traces the slope of my forehead, down the bridge of my nose, finally tracing my lips with his finger. “I know you’re a little camera-shy. I can help you with that.”
“No,” I mumble.
“I’m so good at my job, Avery. I take beautiful photos. I promise.”
“I’ve seen your work and I don’t doubt that for a second, Finn.”
“Then what’s the problem? You watched yourself in the mirror when you rode my tongue until you came. You’re not as shy as you’re pretending to be. You don’t even have to be fully nude if you don’t want to.”
“That’s different. No.”
“I just want you to see yourself the way I do.”
“Well, I don’t.” I am on the borderline of a tantrum. I feel so ridiculous, but Finn doesn’t understand. Whatever spell I have him under is emotional. A picture can’t convey the feelings Finn gets around me. A picture can’t describe the bonds of friendship we’ve built. All he’ll see in front of him is a woman who is probably twice the size of the rail-thin models he’s likely used to fucking. I’m a phase for him. An over-correction. A safeguard around his heart. I’ve never seen Nora, but how much do you want to bet she looks otherworldly gorgeous?
I just want to stay right where we are. I want to keep pretending for as long as we can. One summer. I was promised one freaking summer.