Page 8 of The Billionaire's Ride

Kate rolls her eyes and stomps her now bare foot. “No, I am not doing this shoot withyou!”

My laugh slows, and I catch my breath. “Sorry, love. You’re stuck with me. And if you want any decent shots for this spread, you’d better hurry up and get dressed. We don’t have much time.”

“But—”

“Nice to see you again, by the way. All of you,” I say, backing out of the small dressing room and shutting the door behind me. Oh man, the look on her face? Classic. Of all the women I could’ve walked in on, it had to be her. I chuckle again at the coincidence and finally find the loo.

When I return to the set, Kate still hasn’t stepped out, and I half wonder if she’s run away again. I unload my camera and lenses onto a table near the cloudlike bed. A man, wearing too much aftershave, steps over in his snakeskin loafers. I glance up, recognizing the guy from theLuxparty. It’s Kate’s friend. He looks almost as surprised to see me as Kate.

“You’rethe photographer?” he asks with a slack jaw.

“Indeed.” I return my focus to the camera.

The guy crosses his arms, cocking his head to the side. “Does Kate know you’re here?”

“Oh, yeah.” I raise my brow and huff a laugh. “She knows.”

He turns away, muttering, “This should be interesting,” before walking off.

I take a few test shots of the set, checking my watch every few minutes. How long does it take to put on lingerie? Maybe she’s one of those corset designers or something? Those are kind of sexy. Not that I’m picky about lacy underpants. They’re all exciting in their own way.

The room chatter goes quiet. Kate steps in wearing her short satin robe, tall stilettos, and thigh-high stockings with a lace top. My eyes bulge from their sockets, and my pulse goes full throttle.

Bloody hell. Stockings are my kryptonite.

I turn away, taking a deep breath. It’s going to take every bit of focus and restraint I have to get through the shoot withherinstockings.

“Where should I go?” she asks Francesca with a meek voice.

She directs Kate to the bed, and the designer-slash-model walks gingerly over and sits on the edge of the mattress with her hands tucked underneath her bottom. I almost feel bad for her, looking as nervous as she does.

“Go on, drop your robe,” Francesca says.

Kate’s expression tenses, and she lowers her eyes, pulling on the satin strap. The curtain falls open. Her breasts swell in a black bra, and the outline of her pink nipple peeks through the lace as if shyly greeting me. And her thong . . . well, it leaves very little to the imagination.

She may be a designer, but her body is as fit as the models I photograph all the time. Better even, as she’s not rail thin with no bust or behind. What I wouldn’t give to slide my tongue from her waist up to those beautiful breasts.

She hugs her body tight enough to create a perfect line of cleavage. An inspired tingle in my underpants causes me to clench my thighs. I’m a professional, but that doesn’t mean I don’t get turned on by the women I’m photographing from time to time.

But this . . . her. She’s something else.

Francesca sits on the bed, demonstrating a pose for Kate. While beautiful, Francesca’s not a model and doesn’t realize that there’s more to it than lying on a bed, looking pretty. At least, that’s what models have told me over wine on my penthouse terrace.

Kate sits on her hip, propping herself up with her arm. Francesca pulls a ringlet from her hair and lays it over the front of her shoulder, then positions her feet.

“That’s good, don’t you think?” Francesca asks, rubbing her chin with her finger.

I stare at Kate and clear my throat, tucking my tongue inside my mouth. If I don’t keep my lips closed, my licker will hit the floor like one of those old-fashioned cartoons. “It’s fine. Shall we get started?”

Francesca scoots off the set, and I snap a few shots. Through the lens, I can see Kate’s trembling lips.

“Try to relax, Kate,” I say, somewhat softly. “You look beautiful.”

Kate pulls her mouth back in an exaggerated smile. “Okay.”

“Honey, relax your face,” Kate’s friend calls out.

She pushes a breath out, flapping her lips. “I’m trying, Garret.”

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