Page 9 of Talk Vino To Me
We’re all silent for a while as Marta takes about ninety photos of our hands in various positions. I never knew there were so many micromovements and subtle adjustments to be made.
“Hold hands for me, won’t you?” Dez blinks at Marta’s command, but she reaches for me at the same time I reach for her. We almost knock over the display. Fortunately, one assistant catches the bottle before it tips over and resets the display.
“This is a little trickier than I thought.” Dez smiles up at me. “You made it look so easy.”
I nod. “It’s work. But after almost thirty years of this, I can say this is the most fun I’ve ever had at one of these shoots.”
“Really?”
“Excuse me,” the soft-spoken girl says. “I just need you two to get closer. It’ll help avoid another reset.”
Dez and I murmur our agreement. The PA gently pushes our bodies toward one another, so that we’re standing toe to toe. Then she guides our hands together, carefully placing each finger just so in a careful puzzle.
Dez lets a tiny sigh slip from her lips before she straightens her posture and looks up at me with a dazzling smile. Fuck me. If I weren’t already halfway hard from the look she’s giving me, the press of her breasts against my chest as we interlock our fingers around this bottle would get me there.
The faint scratch of the paper label almost doesn’t register. I am hyperaware of the smoothness of her skin against mine. I don’t know what kind of magic is in that hand cream she used on me, but my skin is sleeker than a seal’s arse. That goop smells expensive as fuck, but I’ll have Daphne reach out to the company. If I have to do a freaking makeup ad for them, so be it. I need a bucket of that.
Not that I’m fantasizing about rubbing it all over a certain someone’s lovely long legs or anything. But if the opportunity arises, I’ll be ready.
“Good, good…” Marta sounds distracted. “Now I need you to stack your hands on the bottle. Start with hers, like so…”
She demonstrates, and I ought to be embarrassed by the filthy image that goes through my head at the sight. But I am shamelessly picturing Dez’ two hands stacked on top of each other, gliding up and down my —
“You might need to turn your back to him, Dez,” the assistant suggests. “Then scooch in real tight.” the woman makes a gesture with her hands, indicating just how close we need to be.
Daisy does as they ask, pressing her ass right up against my cock. Fuck me. The semi I was hiding is now full mast. I’m sure Daisy can tell — the tense stiffness in her body gives her away — but thankfully, she doesn’t say a word. The back of my neck blazes with heat.
Damn. I hate that she’s probably miserable. I’ve been having the filthiest dreams of her since she showed up, but honestly, I’m all talk. It’s been ages since I’ve been with anyone, and Dez… I don’t know if she’s into me like that.
I try to calm myself by thinking about the new song I started when she got here. Something neutral that I can focus on. But my cock is what it wants. And it very much wants Daisy.
After an excruciating million minutes more, Marta makes a satisfied sort of grunt I’ve heard before. I smile to myself. That means she’s got a picture she knows is excellent. She brings the camera toward us, showing what she’s done.
“You like?” Marta asks. We both nod, speechless. The images tell a story of courtship. As if our hands have started with a tentative meeting, moved to a comfortable closeness, and ended up an intimate, passionate love affair.
When Marta releases us from our poses, Daisy is off like a shot. She beelines over to the fridge, pulling out bottles of water and offering them to Marta and her team before cracking one open for herself. I can’t take my eyes away from the golden column of her throat as she swallows. When she licks her lips, I fight back a groan.
Somehow Dez senses my gaze on her. I gesture towards the bottle. She gives me a quick smile before grabbing one from the fridge and bringing it to me. She hands it over without meeting my gaze.
“Thanks.” The snap of the cap coming undone seems especially loud. “I could use a drink.”
“I noticed that you seemed a little heated before.” That same tiny smile flutters around her mouth.
“Daisy,” I say. Already, I love the sound of her real name on my lips. “I want to apologize about before. I couldn’t help, um, that is, I couldn’t quite control my reaction to?—”
“It’s fine.” That smile turns wicked. “I do have a magnificent ass.”
I sputter as the water I drank goes down the wrong pipe. Daisy’s face is half amusement and half alarm. She moves to pat me on the back, but I hold up a hand to let her know I don’t need the assist. It takes a couple of minutes for my cough to settle down and for me to regain my equilibrium.
I gather my courage, feeling utterly ridiculous. Just six little words have got me wondering if the attraction here isn’t one-sided after all. I might have an ego the size of a train, but I’m not thick. Women are occasionally attracted to me. And right now, I’d bet money that Daisy is one of those women.
“Listen,” I give her my most sincere look. “This is awkward. I know you work for my partners, and it’s unorthodox to consider mixing business and pleasure. Don’t shit where you eat, and all that.”
She huffs out a laugh before she can censor herself, her dark eyes sparkling with amusement. That’s got to be a good sign. Hasn’t it?
“I want to be respectful, and not blow up your spot, or whatever the kids say these days.”
Daisy makes a face. “I don’t think a kid has said that phrase since the nineties.”