“Look, about the boudoir shoot—”
“I’m not trying to be difficult,” she interrupts. Swiveling around, she fetches a clean coffee mug from the wire rack. After pouring me a warm cup of coffee and sliding the sugar and cream already on the counter toward me, she continues, “It’s not that I don’t want to do it. Truthfully, I’m intrigued, and if you were just some random guy, I would’ve done it by now.”
“We’ve had sex at least ten times, but you’d be more comfortable getting undressed for a random guy?”
“It’s the pictures. I don’t want you to see them.” Avery pinches her eyes closed like she’s trying to separate herself from her body as she admits whatever is next. “It’s just my thing. I look in the mirror and I’m okay. But I see pictures of myself and I hate them. And I’m worried if you see what I see…you’re going to be disappointed.”
I sigh sharply. “Avery—”
“Ah, stop.” She holds up her palm. “I know what you’re going to say, and I don’t expect you to understand it. Just respect it.” She draws out the word respect, knowing I’m powerless to combat it. If she’s feeling insecure, that’s one thing. If she’s telling me to leave it alone, that’s another.
“So it’s just about me seeing the photos, not about you seeing them?” I ask.
She ducks her head and then lifts her eyes to meet mine, the mug in her hand grazing her lips. “Pretty much.”
“I have an idea.”
Avery cocks her head to the side. “What idea?”
“How about we do the shoot old-school? I have a really good film camera, and I’m still great friends with one of the TAs at UNLV. She has access to the dark room and can develop everything without me seeing it. She’s a random person you’ll never have to meet if you don’t want to. When the pictures are ready, I’ll make sure she seals them up in a box and marks them for your eyes only.”
Avery blinks at me slowly, and I know she’s trying to think of any holes in my master plan. “Old-school, huh?”
“Yeah, I usually shoot with a DSLR and it makes editing easier, but for your peace of mind, I’m happy to whip out my old AE-1.”
“Any more acronyms that I don’t understand you want to throw my way?” she sasses.
I laugh. “You should know what a teacher’s assistant is. I went to school at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas. A DSLR describes a lens, but in layman’s terms it’s just a digital camera, and my AE-1 is the first Canon film camera I ever bought for myself. It still works like a charm.”
“Oh,” she mutters, “well, there you go.”
“Mhm, now, I fixed the problem,” I say, stepping forward and closing the space between us. Taking her mug from her hands, I let out a little moan, then tuck her hair behind her ear, trying to be as seductive as possible. “Now say you’re mine.”
“What?” she croaks then clears throat. “Sorry, what?”
“In the studio, Avery. Say you’re all mine. I promise you’re going to like the photo shoot, and you’re going to love what I do to you after.” I wet my lips as I throw my final Hail Mary. If this doesn’t work, I’m done pushing the issue. I won’t make her do the photo shoot, but the way I’m feeling at the moment, I sure as hell am going to cave and fuck her mercilessly on this kitchen counter.
I wrap my hands around the smallest part of her waist and trace the outward curve of her full hips. I resist clamping down and digging my fingers into her body. How many days has it been now? I went three months without sex and now my eyes go fuzzy when I haven’t had Avery for a few days? Here begins my descent into feelings for a woman, yet again, and dear God, I hope it’s for the last time.
“Okay,” Avery finally answers, pulling me out of my wicked thoughts. “I’m yours… In the studio. The film camera,” she says with a small shrug, “is clever. Good work around. How’s Friday?”
“That’s three days from now.”
“Indeed.” She smirks. “That’s fast calendar math.”
“Smart-ass,” I snark back. “What’s wrong with tonight?”
She presses her hands against my pecs, but she doesn’t push me away. Her hands linger. “Because I have to work—it’s what Mason and I were just arguing about. It’s an emergency.”
“Is everything okay?” My eyes fix on hers. They look a little gray today, like a cloudy green sky.
“Yeah,” she says, exaggerating her nonchalance. “Totally.” She lets out a deep breath before she’s honest with me. “It’s the first time in my career I’m worried that it’s too late. When Mason told me about Legacy Resorts, I thought their rebrand was just focused on bringing in their company more revenue. They aren’t performing at the top of their market, but they certainly aren’t at the bottom. I thought… Well, anyway, it turns out there’s so much more at stake.”
I watch her brows furrow as her forehead wrinkles with concern. I fight the urge to smooth away the worry lines. “Are they fudging their numbers?”
“Oh, no. The board of directors voted and they want to dissolve the company and sell the resorts off in pieces. They have so much potential and are already very competitive. They just want to take the simple, safe path out of this. They’d rather take their cut and sell the properties to the big names. And sometimes it makes sense for a business to do that, but Legacy could be wildly successful. And if they give up now, thousands of people will lose their job.”
“Why wouldn’t they just go work for the new resort?”
Avery removes her hands from my body and reaches for her coffee mug. “That’s not how big acquisitions tend to go. In my experience, usually only twenty percent get to keep their jobs and usually that twenty percent takes a major pay cut.”
I watch her eyes dart back and forth. She’s not being evasive. Her mind is just elsewhere. She said she had to work…clearly, she’s already working. I’m slowly learning that Avery’s biggest asset as a brand strategist is that big, beautiful brain. “You seem nervous.”
“I’m not nervous. I’m just… I’m used to telling business owners and CEOs how to connect with their consumer base. I’ve never had to convince a board of directors that their company is worthy. It’s hard to get people to see something that’s so obvious when they are dead set on a misguided narrative.”
I raise my brows at her. “The irony.”
She gestures up and down her body with her free hand. “Don’t even. It’s not the same thing.”
“It is. You are obviously beautiful and sexy and amazing in every way, but you refuse to acknowledge it. So what would work for you? What would get you to see yourself correctly?”
She grins at me as her cheeks fill with the lightest shade of pink. “Apparently, a very persistent boudoir photographer who bribes me with sex.”
My laugh comes out like a roar. “Keep thinking, sweetheart. I don’t think you can use that tactic on Legacy Resorts.”