Page 26 of Daddy's Accidental Babies

“Glad I missed that part,” I said. “You look beautiful, by the way.”

“Dominic,” she chided, eyes still on the set. It seemed she was still resisting my attempts to show her I was very interested in her, and I wondered if David had gotten to her already. My meeting with him was still a few days out.

I opened my mouth to say something else, but someone clapped behind the lighting rig. “Okay, let’s go. Dominic, Savannah—on your marks, please. We’re starting with a wide shot under natural light. Give us a soft connection between thetwo of you.” A woman with frizzy hair and bright red lipstick waved a notebook in the air as she spoke, and we listened to her.

A male photographer with a trimmed beard and glasses called out next. “Savannah, shift right two inches. Dom, hand on the backrest. Don’t square off. We’re not shooting mugshots.” I cringed at his use of a nickname I hated to hear on any lips but hers, but I didn’t protest. Following his commands meant getting closer to her.

She stepped into position beside me and lowered her voice. “Try not to make this painful.”

“Just follow my lead,” I said.

The photographer’s voice broke through again. “Closer now. Pull her in a little. Make it feel intimate.”

I shifted behind her and pressed my hand to the small of her back. She didn’t flinch, but her breath caught just enough for me to notice.

“You’ve got this,” I murmured, low enough no one else could hear. “You’re the sexiest woman in the room. Probably the building.”

Her mouth twitched like she was fighting a smile. “This is a serious shoot.”

“So am I.” My hand drifted up slightly, a gentle slide that hovered just long enough to make her pause. I felt the clasp of her bra under my thumb and pressed into it.

“Savannah, soften your expression. Dominic, tilt your head toward hers. Less boardroom, more bedroom,” the photographer snapped.

She glanced at me, and for a second, something real broke through her polished look. I leaned in. “You’re blushing,” I said. “You trying to distract me?”

She exhaled slowly. “Stop talking.”

“Why?” My lips were almost at her ear. “You like when I talk. Especially when I tell you how bad my cock wants inside you.” That comment made her shudder.

“Closer,” the woman with the clipboard barked. “More tension. Dom, rest your hand at her waist.” Then the photographer glanced at Savannah and added, “And Savannah, lean in a little. Let it feel like you’re reaching for him—you love him, right? Let the camera see it…”

I didn’t stop at her waist. I let my palm slide lower, fingers tightening around the curve of her ass.

She stiffened and let out a quiet hiccup as her jaw dropped open. Her posture shifted almost imperceptibly, but I felt it. She stopped resisting me.

The photographer clapped again. “Savannah, turn your chin toward him—yes, like that. Let it feel earned, not forced. Hold it.”

“I said follow my lead,” I said gruffly as I squeezed the fleshy globe of her right cheek in my hand and watched her swallow hard.

She didn’t pull away or call it out. She held still, eyes fixed on mine, her chest rising and falling in slow, deliberate rhythm. She was holding it together, but only just—and I could see every ounce of control it took not to react to the way I touched her.

“Perfect,” the photographer said. “Don’t move.”

A phone buzzed. The clipboard woman muttered something about a lighting change and waved the photographer out of the room. He blurted, “Be right back.” Then he darted off the set, followed by the crew, leaving us under the lights and out of focus.

I saw the opening and I took it, and Savannah didn’t stop me.

I slid my hand up her spine and bent toward her ear. “We’ve got a few minutes,” I said. Then I turned, walked to the door, and flipped the lock.

“Dom,” she protested, but when I leaned in to kiss her, she didn’t push me away.

Her breath hitched as my hands found her waist, and when she didn’t tense, I tugged her closer until our hips aligned. She looked up at me, hesitant but not afraid, her fingers brushing my chest like she didn’t know whether to pull me in or push me back.

“We shouldn’t be doing this. They could come back,” she whispered.

“Then tell me to stop,” I said in a low tone. I dipped my head until our foreheads touched. “I think about you all the time. I can’t stop thinking about you. Every day you’re on my mind. I need you…You undo me.”

Her hands slid up around my neck, slow and unsure. But she stayed there, her fingers curling just enough to draw me in. I could feel her pulse where our chests touched. She didn’t speak, but she looked at me like she couldn’t decide whether she wanted to breathe or burn.

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