Looking in the mirror, refusing to admit I was dawdling, I ran my fingers through my hair to give it a mussed, just-fucked look. The contrasts between the colors and the mix of masculine and feminine looked beautiful.
But I felt slightly naked.
Which was stupid, because I’d been way more naked in front of him before. But I couldn’t help it. Taking a deep breath and refusing to hide who I was in my own home, I stepped away from the sink and turned toward the door.
The heels made my legs look longer, and they gave me a boost of artificial confidence that I usually didn’t need, but I was going to take every little bit of help I could. As I stepped out of the bathroom, carefully closing the door behind me, I tried to keep up that veneer of poise.
I was a damned good model, and I looked great. Nothing he said would change that.
“Perfect.”
His voice was smooth, but it still wasn’t enough words for me to figure out what he was talking about. Me or the clothes? If it wasn’t for the little flash of emotion in his eyes, I would have said the clothes, but there was always just enough to leave me wondering.
“Good.” Trying to keep calm, I pointed to the far wall. “You said over by the window?”
Roman gave a short nod, then spoke quietly as he focused his gaze on the camera in his hand. “Yes, thank you.”
Not sure if he was just distracted or if I was being dismissed, I made my way over to the window. I wished I could have said I strode, or that I slinked across the room sexily…but I was too nervous for anything remotely fabulous.
He was even ruining heels for me.
The ass.
Being able to bitch, at least in my head, made me feel a little bit better. But not enough. I was still feeling too guilty over getting him fired and everything else that had happened. Sure, we’d both played a part, but I didn’t like knowing I’d been at fault even in some small way.
Standing by the window, I tried to imagine how the photo would look and what would work best, but it didn’t feel like Eli standing in the room, I felt like Elijah. A fraud who was faking everything and trying to desperately hide who he really was. I felt awkward and nothing about it was right.
“Let’s try one hand on the wall and then turning just the top half of your body toward me.” Roman’s words were the nicest, most bland things I’d ever heard from him in a shoot.
It didn’t help any.
Nothing helped. I shifted, and he’d give more instructions, he’d nod, but then would tweak something else. It was professional and calm, but also boring, and there was none of the passion I usually felt in front of the camera. I wasn’t even hard. It was like my dick was completely broken.
He liked wearing panties.
He liked being watched.
He liked having the camera on us.
Well, he was now on strike and refusing to cooperate until I made better decisions. Out of all the stupid things I’d done, the fact that he drew the line at my being polite with Roman was insane.
“This isn’t working, Eli. Come here.” Roman sighed, and I turned back toward him to see him sitting on the bed.
He was slumped over and looked nothing like the confident man who’d stared down his nose at me the first day we’d met. With a sinking feeling in my stomach, I moved away from the window and took two steps to the bed. “Did you want to try a different location? The—”
Roman interrupted, shaking his head. “It’s not that.” Taking a deep breath, he reached a hand out. “I know I don’t deserve this, but come kneel down here so we can talk.”
It should have felt wrong, but I was mostly numb as I took one final step and let my legs fold neatly so I was looking up at him, the white shirt covering most of my thighs. Not even attempting to guess what he was thinking, I just waited.
It wasn’t quite submission, but it was the closest I’d come to it since that night.
Roman reached a hand out and cupped my cheek. “I’m sorry.”
For what?
But I stayed silent while he looked down at me. His thumb started tenderly caressing my cheek, and I forced myself not to move…not until I knew what the fuck he was doing.
“I know you said doing the shoot was alright. But you’re clearly uncomfortable, and I know that’s my fault. Before, you would have come through that door, confident and turned on. If I made you feel that being passionate about any of this was wrong, I’m sorry.”
