Page 9 of Glitterland
“I read one of ’is coming back from Ibiza.” Of course, he pronounced itIbeefa. “I fought it was brilliant. To fink ’e made all that up in his ’ead.”
“That’s his job.”
“Yeah, ’e’s well good at it.” Darian paused and then offered, a little sheepishly, “I’m trying to get into modlin, me.”
I cast a sideways glance at his manicured beard, glossed lips, and painted eyes. “You do surprise me.”
“Really?” he said, startled. “Cos it’s the first fing people say to me: ‘You should be a model, mate.’ I reckon it’s important to look nice. There’s lots of fings you can’t change, but if you make an effort wif ’ow you look, then you’ll do ahwight, janarwhatamean?”
I did not, in fact, know what he meant, but I made a noncommittal noise in the hope it would discourage further insights into the human condition.
“Some people fink it’s a bit shallow,” he went on, profoundly undiscouraged, “but what I fink is that if you really like fink ’ard abaht it, then y’know…that’s ahwight.”
“Please stop talking.”
“Sorry, babes, I do run on.” Five seconds later: “D’you wanna see my catwalk walk?”
“Will you be quiet while you do it?”
“Course, babes.”
He sashayed off, starlight catching at his epaulettes. My gaze slid down his spine in a caress as fervent as a sigh.
“Well, whadyafink?” He stopped a few feet away and spun round to face me.
My eyes—which had been riveted to his hips—flicked reluctantly back up. He smiled, a touch shyly, one side of his mouth quirking up a split second before the other.
“I’m honestly no judge, but I could watch you walk up and down all day.”
“Awww, babes, that’s proper sweet.”
I stared at the ground, flustered.
“As a special reward, I’ll show you my pose.”
I looked up in time to see him draping himself over one of the industrial wheelie bins standing nearby. He arched his back, sending a ripple of motion through his body like energy down a Slinky. His jacket slipped from one shoulder to reveal the bare skin and sleek muscles of his upper arm.
My stomach twisted with pure and painful longing.
“You look very…very…” My lips were dry. “Sinuous.”
“Lie-kit. Sin-u-ous.”
“Well.” God, I could barely speak. I swallowed lust. “It has the word sin in it.”
He wriggled his hips. “And you, babes.”
“And us for that matter.”
He grinned. “I can totally tell you’re a writer.”
I couldn’t have said what fresh madness possessed me at that moment, but I pulled my phone out of my pocket and aimed the camera at him. He came to life beneath its harsh, silver-flashing eye, his body twisting to the music of the shutter. He was shameless in his skin. Ridiculous. And beautiful. I watched the light as it slid down his bared throat.
My hands were shaking so hard I had to stop.
“Let’s ’ave a look.” Ambling back to me, he peered over my shoulder. He smelled sticky-sweet: cosmetics, cologne, and the faintest suggestion of sweat. “They’re ahwight. Send ’em to me.”
I didn’t think it was worth reminding him I didn’t actually know where to send them.
