Page 59 of What Hurts Us

“Callum and Layla?” a female voice called as a car door slammed. We both turned. The photographer—a short woman with fire engine red hair and a t-shirt that read,tattoos, wine, and true crime, complete with blood spatter—hurried across the gravel lot to meet us.

A camera hung on a strap across her body, and a bag with extra lenses rested against her hip. “Hi! Hi! Hey! I’m Ashley! Wow! BJ wasn’t lying!” The words spilled out one on top of the other.

Callum slipped his arm low around my hips. His fingertips grazed my ass like they had this morning.

I laughed nervously. “I hope that’s a good thing.”

“Oh yeah,” she snorted. “BJ told me that y’all haveinsanechemistry. I can’t wait to get you two in front of my camera.”

“I hope this is okay,” I said, looking down at the pants I had pulled out of the back of the closet. “I didn’t know what to wear.” Glancing between Callum and Ashley, I shrugged. “We’re not super fancy, if you know what I mean.”

She waved a hand dismissively and fiddled with the settings on her camera. “Don’t even. You look like every man’s biker babe wet dream.”

Cal choked on his saliva, turning away to clear his throat. Part of me liked finding little things that set him off. We were both still buzzing from the sexual tension that had been interrupted this morning. I ran off like my tail was on fire, but the moment my bedroom door closed, I couldn’t control myself anymore. I grabbed the tiny bullet vibrator hidden in my room and finished the job. All I could think about was him pinning me against the wall by my throat and sliding his monster cock inside me.

We were playing with fire, and we both knew it.

But I had self-control, dammit. A little against-the-wall action wouldn’t sway me. I was going to stick to my sex-fast.

“Is this your bike?” Ashley asked.

Cal nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

“Oh, don’tma’amme.”

There was a hint of something in her accent that I recognized. “Are you from around here?”

She snorted. “Hell no. Irish-Italian by way of Jersey.” That explained the aversion to being called ma’am.

“Fairfield?” I asked.

“Close. Caldwell.” She eyed me curiously for a minute. “You?”

“East Orange.”

Ashley grinned. “I knew you were gonna be a badass. Let’s start here while we’ve got the light. Then we’ll explore the park a little. The footbridge is a favorite for a lot of couples.” She looked up from her camera and studied the bike. “Alright. Callum, I want you to sit on the back of the bike. Layla, you’ll sit backward. I want you in front of him with your back to the handlebars. Straddle Callum, and then we’ll get you into your first pose.”

Ashley gave the command as if she hadn’t just told me to hop up on Cal’s lap.Then again, we were supposed to be pretending to be a couple in love.

I could do this. I could straddle his Herculean thighs and not feel a damn thing. I could look into his stormy gray eyes and not want to sort out his secrets.

Cal and I had touched before. We had kissed.Maybe a little more than we intended…

I could do this.

I could straddle my fake fiancé and feel absolutely nothing.

“Layla.”

I snapped out of my haze. Cal was already back on the bike, leaving enough space on the front part of the seat for me to fit. “Right,” I said as gravel crunched underfoot.

Warm sun rays danced over his shoulders as golden hour lit us up in sunset hues. Callum offered his hand as I stood with my back to the photographer and swung my leg over the motorcycle.

Ashley jogged off to the side, shouting, “Okay. Layla, scooch forward just a bit and have your legs over his thighs.”

Callum looked away as I slid down the dip of the leather seat, my pelvis nudging against his. He grunted as I draped my legs on either side of his hips.

“Layla—arch your back and push your bum out just a little. Arms around his neck. Callum—put your hands in her back pockets. Lean in like you’re going to kiss, but don’t. Just let your noses touch.”

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