Rock Your Heart Out (Sinful Serenade #3) by Crystal Kaswell Read Free Book Online Page B

brother is going to hit someone?"
    "That's not it, exactly."
    "Willow, it's your life. If you don't want to do it, tell me. But if you do want to do it, then fucking go for it. Don't let anything stop you from taking what you want."
    "I'd be more receptive to your message if I didn't think you were trying to manipulate me."
    "I don't need to manipulate women into pressing themselves against me. If you aren't game, I'll find another model." He scans the coffee shop, his gaze fixing on a tall woman with light hair. "But I'd rather not lead her on."
    No. I don't want him pressed against that other woman.
    He looks at me. "Are you in or out?"
    I take a deep breath, cultivating the go for it confidence spread over Tom's face. I can do that too. I can be the kind of person who says yes to life instead of hiding behind my camera.
    In theory.
    Enough hesitation. I'll figure out what kind of person I want to be later. Right now, I need to please my client. I make eye contact. "I'm in."
    "Then let's go."
    ***
    T om tears the tags off the black lace bra and panty set I bought at the department store. "I like your taste. Classy."
    My cheeks flush. I try my best to shift into professional mode. We're in the handicapped stall of a dressing room, not a studio, but I can do this.
    "Is the goal something we're taking for our depraved pleasure or something that belongs on Instagram?" I ask.
    "Either way."
    "They're different. The former will be messy, more about the physical and less about the props or anything. But you've seen pictures on social media. People pose them, get their latte arranged next to their book, next to their plate of grapes. No one really sits that neatly. You know?"
    He nods. "Pretty and smart. Picked a good fake fuck buddy."
    He's thinks I'm pretty and smart. I'm not sure which is more flattering. I clear my throat to keep desire from swallowing me whole.
    "I want it to look like you leaked this picture. It's up to you."
    "Then I don't need this." I point to my camera, return it to my purse, and fish out my cell. "It should look heat of the moment. Like we were so desperate to fuck that we nearly ripped off our clothes."
    "This is why I need you, kid." He pulls his t-shirt over his head and drops it on the floor. "Good?"
    My gaze goes to his chest, his stomach, the soft tuft of hairs below his belly button. Very good. Great. Amazing.
    I unlock my phone, open the camera app. "Maybe a few like this. Sorta... you stripping for me."
    He cocks a brow. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
    "A woman should enjoy her work."
    Tom laughs. He motions to the waistband of his jeans. "These too."
    "Not yet." I snap a few shots of him, waist up. God, he's yummy. Unbearably yummy. It's practically objective.
    I grab the bra and panties and toss them aside. Time to think like a photographer. If we were going to fuck in here, we'd have a few good options. There's the seat. Big enough for me to climb on top of him. Or he could lift me and push me against the wall. Or turn me around and take me from behind.
    A flush spreads over my cheeks and down my chest.
    I pull my sweater over my head and toss it on the ground.
    Tom's eyes go to my exposed skin. My shoulders, my neck, my chest. His cheeks flush. He's checking me out.
    He wants me.
    But he made it clear we're only friends. I'm keeping this professional. Well, as professional as pretending to fuck in a dressing room can get.
    I press my cell to my chest. "Come on. Let's get posing. Grab me and press me against the wall."
    "Bossy all of a sudden."
    "Just do it."
    "As you wish, Mistress Photographer." Tom slides his arms under my ass and lifts me. "Wrap your legs around me."
    I do. It puts us in quite the compromising position. He shifts, holding me against the wall. His crotch presses into mine.
    "Not sure if this will come out well." I hold my phone over my head, press my cheek against Tom's to shield my face from the camera, and take half a dozen photos.
    "Can't complain about the working