Behind His Lens(62)

“Good, Angel,” he whispers so that only I can hear.

I love moving for him, and I blossom under his positive appraisal, wanting to please him even more. I want him to remember this image when he’s alone tonight.

Playing off his confidence in me, I twine one hand through my hair and pull my head back gently while my other hand finds the strings on my bikini bottom. I tug down so that the bottom exposes another inch of my lower hip. The action should look sexy on camera, like I’m right in the moment of seduction— pulling the tiny string on my bikini and revealing everything. For Jude. He licks his bottom lip and I smile seductively into the lens before pulling another inch down.

“Charley,” he warns quietly, but his husky voice turns me on even more.

“Good!” Ryan yells from a few feet away, oblivious to Jude’s behavior.

But I don’t need Ryan’s encouragement anymore. I’m a woman trying to seduce a man and my body knows what to do. I lean back, letting the salty water drench my hair and bathing suit so that the material clings to my skin even more.

“Stay down like that, Charley,” Jude orders, stepping over my ankles and coming to stand above me. His foot hits my leg beneath the water and the touch electrifies my skin. I follow his instructions, letting my legs fall open a few inches so that he can see the thin material between my legs. I reach back and prop my hands into the sand, supporting my upper body. My back twists and I arch up until I see the muscles tighten in his jaw. I love affecting him like this, especially after how he left things last night. I’m exacting my revenge and driving us both insane. My eyes narrow seductively and my lips part, pleading with Jude to push me back into the sand and take me right here.

“Damn, Charley,” Ryan huffs.

I want to push the limits; I want to see how far Jude will let me go. It feels like a high-stakes poker game. Who’s going to fold first? With one hand still stuck in the sand, I reach up with the other and tug down the middle of my bandeau top ever so gently. I wouldn’t have revealed anything, just another millimeter of my skin, but Jude doesn’t let me.

“Enough,” he snaps, dropping the camera away from his face and revealing his losing hand.

“What! Are you insane?” Ryan huffs with wide eyes.

I drop down into the sand and sit frozen, volleying my eyes between the two men.

“We’ve got everything,” Jude responds sharply.

Ryan’s arm shoots out to gesture toward me. “She was completely working the camera!” he protests. Jude doesn’t look at him; he’s staring down at me with fire behind his blue eyes. He’s pissed and he’s not even trying to hide it from me.

“Fine. But there better be some damn good photos on that camera,” Ryan relents, resting his hands on his hips.

“There are,” Jude snaps roughly, glancing at him and then turning back toward me with frigid ferocity. “Can I talk to you for a second before you head in, Charley?”

I nod because my body is already conditioned to respond to this man. Not to mention, his tone wouldn’t have allowed any other response. I haven’t even fully processed the situation, and as I glance toward Ryan, his furrowed brows reveal that he’s trying to catch up as well.

Sinking my fingers into the sand, I push up to stand on shaky legs. I try to brush some of the sand off the back of my thighs. Out of the corner of my lashes, I watch Ryan walk away from us to prepare for the next model, but I still can’t look at Jude. I keep my eyes focused on the grains of white sand spread across my feet like glassy constellations. He’s standing a few inches in front of me. Is he angry with me?

“Charley, look at me,” he demands.

My eyes stay focused on a speck of sand stuck to the side of my ankle, at least I know it won’t burn me with its gaze.

“Please.” His voice is impossible to resist, like licking chocolate off the spoon before you clean the bowl.

With a deep breath, I raise my eyes until I’m glancing at him from underneath my lashes. The moment I find his ocean blue eyes, I cross my arms over my chest, feeling vulnerable in front of him and suddenly wishing I had my small robe again. His chuckle is pure sin, reminding me that a moment ago I was revealing every ounce of myself for him, but at least he holds his tongue.

“Is everything okay?” I ask with an unsteady voice, trying to gage his mood.

He presses his eyelids closed for a moment, and I can tell he’s trying to reel in his emotions.