Shut Up and Model for Me (45 page)

Chloe leans forward and Miguel's tongue darts out, gliding over her nipple.

I realize that, other than Andrea's instructions, the pool has been silent. I turn to look behind me, and all of the models are watching intently from the patio furniture.

When I turn back, Miguel's hand are on Chloe's ass, and she says all too adorably, "This is the best job ever."

Everyone behind me erupts in giggles… even the boys.

My phone buzzes in my pocket. I pull it out to look. Text from Cam.

Dad wants you to join us for lunch at the country club.

I let my camera fall and mutter, "Balls."

///

The country club is one of those establishments that I cannot for the life of me understand. It rakes up so much money off rich people being douchey. And I hate going there. I hate the way that Dad's peers and colleagues look at me, like they expect me to perform a trick or something, just like their children would. And I hate that Dad kind of expects the same from me, which is why he even wants me to come into the country club in the first place. Not like I have any tricks to perform. Cam at least has the fact that he works for Dad. I graduated with my bachelor's from a state school, and according to most, I am jobless.

I don't even have the gorgeous or thin thing going for me.

Today, the country club sucks even worse, because Micah is here. He's at the bar drinking a Bloody Mary, and when he sees me, he smiles big, swoops up his drink, and waltzes toward me. I see Cam, Dad, and Jaime out of the corner of my eye. Micah acknowledges them, and I suddenly realize what's about to happen.

Micah wants me to perform.

I haven't kissed him yet, and I shouldn't be nervous considering how many boys I
have
kissed. Maybe it's the fact that we are fake that makes my stomach twist.

Or the fact that Jaime is watching.

Buck up, Brit. You watch Jaime kiss girls all of the time. You
make
him kiss other girls. That's his job, just like this is yours.

I have nothing to whine about. Micah is a hell of a good-looking guy and probably has had a lot of practice with women.

So I throw on my most sincere grin, and when he approaches me, I rest my hands on his waist and kiss him.

"Nice touch," he whispers when we part, obviously impressed. "I was a little worried about your acting, I have to admit."

I cock my head. "You know little about me, then."

When Dad, Cam, and Jaime approach, I can see the gears working in both Dad’s and Micah's head. Dad's trying to figure out if the kiss means that we're official. But Micah's eyes are on Jaime.

"I keep seeing you everywhere lately," Micah says slyly.

"Oh really?" Dad asks. "And where does Mr. Rivera keep popping up?"

Dammit, Dad. He thinks he's being funny and striking up conversation when in reality he's being far too nosey for my tastes.

"Oh, you know." Micah smirks. "Around town."

Jaime looks like he's waiting for this conversation to take an interesting turn.

"Change of plans," Dad says. "Mom wants me to invite all of your friends over for an early dinner. She says the cooks have already started and wants you to procure a list of... refreshments.”

By refreshments he absolutely means to figure out what booze everyone wants. My parents may be conservative, but they're not idiots. They know that a bunch of twenty-somethings can't have a happy dinner without copious amounts of alcohol.

He nods to Micah. "You should come."

Goddammit.

"I'd love to, Mr. McCulley."

Micah agrees to meet us over at the estate, and when we finally part ways and head to the parking lot, Jaime holds back long enough to whisper, "Gay," to me.

I eye him down. "Are you planning on proving that to me?"

"We can make a game of it," he says.

I scoff. "Fuck off, Jaime."

He chuckles as I walk away from him.

///

Back at home, the hired help sets up a banquet table outside by the pool, lavishly decorated with centerpieces and surrounded by tiki torches. The menu includes all different kinds of barbecued dishes and summer picnic food.

Micah is already at the house by the time my models arrive, his arm wrapped around my waist as I stand with him, listening to him make small talk with my parents and dance around the prospect of a merger between my dad's company and his dad's company. Our fake relationship is an ingenious plan, really. Mom and Dad obviously greatly approve of Micah. Regardless of how superficial our relationship is in the greater picture of this merger, no one can deny the magic of good family ties.

When I'm halfway to drunk, I slip from Micah's arm and hurry over to Evan and Dallas who are seated in a set of lounge chairs. I plop myself down by Evan’s legs.

"What does Jaime think about that set up?" Dallas asks, nodding to Micah.

"Surprisingly, he thinks it's more funny than anything. He also thinks Micah is gay... not like it matters what he thinks. We're not together."

"That so?" Dallas leans back in his chair. "You sure about that?"

"Why are you asking?"

He shrugs. “Jaime just talks about you a lot is all. Absentmindedly almost, like everyone knows you two are screwing."

"Dallas," I hiss, glancing over at my parents, even though they're on the opposite side of the pool and still invested in Micah.

"I'm just saying, the way he talks around the models is like you two are something. He doesn't act like it's a pride thing either. It's like he talks about you because he can't help it."

Before I realize what I'm doing, my eyes drift over to Jaime, who's lounging beneath the gazebo with Adam, Delilah, and Ella. When he glances at me, he stands, walking out of the gazebo and down the pathway leading to my parents’ small, flourishing flower garden.

It's an invitation if I ever saw one.

And like we share a mind, Evan says, "Go."

I make sure Micah's still distracting my parents, and then follow Jaime into the garden. He's sitting on a bench by the fountain my parents installed when I was a teenager, highly filtered and smelling strongly of chlorine. My parents—or whoever they hired to take care of the garden--obviously don't understand that an outdoor fountain isn't supposed to be sanitary and scrubbed clean.

"Won't your boyfriend miss you?" Jaime asks.

I sit next to him. "As much as he'll miss you, considering how
gay
he is."

"Hah, well, we'll find out if I can get into his pants in the men's restroom on Saturday."

"What's Saturday?" I ask.

"A benefit dinner. Your dad invited me."

I raise my hand to my mouth. "Oh shit. I forgot."

"You’ll be on Micah's arm, and Ava Jennings will be on mine."

"Ava Jennings? How the hell did you manage that?"

He shrugs. "I knew her from when I was a kid. Called her up and asked her and she said yes."

"Ava Jennings will not be on your arm. You'll be on hers. Unless you've forgotten..."

"I haven't forgotten..."

"How drop-dead gorgeous and unstoppable she is." A twinge of jealously twists my insides and I kill it quickly when I remember how gracefully Jaime has put up with this whole Micah bullshit.

I forgot about the wine in my hand, and take a huge gulp.

"We're sharing a limo over. And a table at the benefit."

I turn my head as wine sprays from my mouth.

"That was dramatic," he says.

"Why?!"

"I might have said that it would be a good idea?" I sock him in the arm, and he flinches away. "Hey, now, that's not nice."

"That's torture for me, you realize that, right? Being with someone because I have to while watching the one who I really want to be with cuddling up to a gorgeous woman all night." It makes me feel vulnerable as all hell admitting this to him, but it's liberating too, talking about the elephant in the room.

Us. Together.

His face relaxes, and he smiles. For once, it isn't a smirk. "How long will the benefit be?"

"Six-ish hours."

"So for six-ish hours we'll be making nice with our dates, and then we'll go home, and I'll sneak through your window in my tux and let you undress me."

I guffaw. "Just undress you?"

"We'll see where the night takes us after that."

"But six hours is a long time."

"Wear something slinky, preferably with a low v-cut so I can keep myself occupied by staring at your boobs all night."

"Fuck off."

He laughs, and then I laugh. When we quiet again, he bites down on his bottom lip. I realize I haven't gotten him naked enough yet. I need to devise a shoot with him in it.

"Can I kiss you?" he asks.

"No," I say, standing and spinning on my heel and leaving him in the garden.

I need him waiting for that kiss. I need him wanting me.

When I arrive back at the banquet table, the food is served and everyone is decently drunk. My parents are nowhere to be seen, and the alcohol is coursing pleasantly through my veins, so I stand on a bench and ting my fork against my glass.

Everyone quiets and looks at me. I raise my glass and my models and Andrea follow suit. Jaime walks in from the garden.

"I'd like to make a toast. To this project, and to the reason we all get paychecks."

"To boobs," Adam says, and everyone erupts in giggles. We're all twelve-year-olds at heart.

I nod in his direction. "To boobs."

CHAPTER EIGHT

It is dark and everyone is plastered by the time the models think of heading back to the house. I fake one more adorable cuddly kiss with Micah in front of my parents before they head to bed. And because I am sure I am the most sober, I call cabs for everyone to get the hell out of my house.

I'm tired.

I head to the bathroom to pee considering I broke the seal about three hours ago. When I come out, Jaime corners me in the dark hall, pushing me up against the wall.

"Cam's still awake," I breathe.

"You worried?" He leans his head in until our lips just brush, and heat spirals all the way through my abdomen.

"Yes."

"You want me to stop?"

I want him longing for me, waiting for me, but right now I am drunk and horny and tired of parading around and kissing a boy I don't even like. "No."

He dips his head to my neck and kisses me slowly, tongue flicking against my throat. My moan is quiet and guttural. He peels the strap of my sundress away from my shoulder, the triangle piece of fabric falling down.

He hums in approval, palming my bare breast. "No bra. I'd like to think that’s because you were hoping I'd corner you in a hallway and undress you."

"It's because bras suck and are worthless."

"I'm fine with that," he says, and lowers his mouth to my hard nipple, biting down. The pain is so delicious, like an orgasm in itself, that I grip the back of his neck, holding him to me, and whisper,
"Fuck."

He stands straight and tugs the strap of my dress back up. "I'll leave you wet for tonight," he says before biting down on my bottom lip and dragging his teeth across.

When he releases me, I gasp, "I hate you."

He chuckles, and the cab outside beeps. "Gotta run," he says, leaving me alone in the dark hallway.

When I gather my senses, I hurry up to my bedroom. There is only one way I'll be able to clear my head. I slip off my dress, snatch my vibrator from the nightstand drawer, and slink beneath the sheets of my bed.

When I was sixteen, I decided that orgasms were medicinal. I read too many issues of
Cosmo
, and there were too many horror stories about women relying on guys for great sex and then never getting off. That wasn't going to be me. I'd teach myself to come, to relieve pressure, to have an absolute blast by myself, and that I did. First were my fingers, and then, when I figured out how magical it was, the shower head. And finally, when I was adventurous enough to enter an adult shop at eighteen, lots and lots of vibrators.

Jaime isn't going to leave me wet and wanting him.

It doesn't take me long to get myself off, and when I do, I plot all of the ways to make Jaime feel as vulnerable as he has made me. I easily come up with the perfect plan.

I haven't been taking advantage of Jaime enough as a model. As my employee. He's my sexy bisexual eye candy and so far he's gotten away with not living up to his title.

I roll over in bed and grab my phone, texting Adam.

Be prepared. I am going to make you work tomorrow.

///

"I want a gay shoot."

Andrea, me, Jaime, and Adam stand around a desk in the study of Micah's beach house. I've pulled them in here for a meeting. Or maybe not a meeting. More like, I've pulled them in here to insist my demands are met.

Jaime and Adam exchange glances. "And you've chosen us
why
?" Jaime asks.

"Because the two of you are obviously up for it, and I wouldn't be pained by the awkwardness and discomfort of two totally straight guys trying to fool around. That's why."

"And what about girls?" Adam challenges. "You can't be sexist, Brit. If you have a gay shoot, you have to have a lesbian shoot, too."

He thinks he's being so clever. "First of all, you only are pulling the sexist card because
you
want to watch a lesbian shoot, pervert."

"We're all perverts," Jaime says.

I clamp my fingers together, motioning for him to zip it. "Secondly, I am having a lesbian shoot with Ella and Chloe, because they're both fucking hot and the thought of them together makes
me
squirm and I don't squirm easily. So that argument is invalid.

"But what if—”

I cut Adam off again. "I want you two. In the shower. Kissing, licking, touching each other. Thirty minutes from now. Got it?"

They're both grinning, so I know my demands aren't making them uncomfortable. They're just trying to fuck with me.

"But this shoot still has to somehow revolve around a woman. Remember our theme?" Andrea says.

"Balls." I think for a moment, and the answer comes easily. "We'll bring a girl in later. Have her interrupt them. But I want the boys to be together at first."