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“How about you just ride with me? I’ll head home to change and then we can go to the studio.”
“Okay.”
The tension and awkwardness I felt leaving her the first time has blown to bits. We’re right back to being perfectly happy and comfortable again.
God help me, I’m in so much trouble with this one…
•••
Mak’s a beautiful distraction. I put my playlist on shuffle mode and it’s giving my emotions whiplash. Songs bounce from Bad Omens, Eminem, Dolly Parton, Korn, to Sam Tinnesz.
One of the nice things about letting my clients choose the music during their sessions is I’ve been introduced to a lot of artists I might not have heard of otherwise. I’ve got one hell of an eclectic compilation rocking through my studio because of it.
Mak seems to know the words to just about every song that plays. That throws me a little. For someone who’s into Blackpink, the woman hasn’t skipped a beat no matter what song plays next and hardly any of it has been K-Pop.
I try my best to concentrate on my projects but all I really do is constantly sneak glances at her while she uses all my props to set up little scenes for her books to make posts with. Right now, she’s standing on top of a table with a collection of plastic flowers and candles scattered around a hardback.
Unable to take it anymore, I get up and walk over and hold her hips. “I’m scared you’re going to fall.”
She growls with frustration. “Ugh! I keep casting a shadow over my stuff. I keep trying to reposition myself, but nothing’s working. I always have this problem.”
Lifting her off the chair, she squeals. “Let me help?”
“Okay.”
Snagging a light and some filters, I do a little quick rearranging. “How’s that?”
“You’re amazing.” She holds her phone out and snaps a few pics at ground level.
“Want to use my camera? The quality will be better, and I can just drop them onto your cell.”
She chews her bottom lip and debates it. “Okay. Yeah. Thanks.”
I’m thrilled, honestly. I like sharing my space and skills with her. I just want to make sure I don’t take over her project because I tend to do that sometimes. Getting her all set up, I show her how to use one of my cameras, then go back to my desk to work.
But not before busting out some moves to Work It by Missy Elliott.
“Ohhhh!” Mak joins in and pops her ass to the beat. “Get it, boy!” She goes down low.
I one up her by going down even lower.
She squeals with delight and claps her hands, hyping me up. I forget that I’m supposed to be working and just let myself have some fun.
Hey, just because I don’t know line dances doesn’t mean I can’t drop it like it’s hot.
Mak dances around, laughing and singing, then she presses up against me from behind. Running her nails down my back, we bump and grind like two fools with no cares in the world. I momentarily falter when Mak snakes her hands across my front to hold me against her.
Grabbing her hands, I spin around and kiss her knuckles. My heart’s pounding a mile a minute. “Get back to work, woman!” She giggles when I smack her ass playfully and sets back on her mission to make the best Instagram book posts while I drop back into my chair and rub my aching chest.
It feels good to be around Mak. I haven’t been my goofy self with someone in a long time. But damn, that was a close one. I wasn’t expecting her to full on grip my goddamn love handles like that.
Metal scrapes across the floor as she drags more stuff around and takes full advantage of my studio to make her book pics look amazing. This place is big enough for us to be in each other’s presence without necessarily being in each other’s space, if that makes any sense.
I turn the music down a little so I can concentrate. “You hungry yet?”
“No!” she calls out. “But if you are, order something. Don’t wait for me.”
I can hold off.