Page 38 of The Money Shot

I reached for the knob, my hand trembling as if it had a mind of its own, and pulled the door open.

There he was— Cam, as he’d introduced himself in his message. In person, he was even more striking than his photos. Broad shoulders, perfect golden hair that curled just right at the ends, and that grin—a mixture of easy charm and complete confidence. He stuck out a hand, and I instinctively took it, feeling the strength in his grip.

“Cam,” he said, as though I didn’t already know. He nodded toward the person beside him. “And this is Bobbi Mae, my roommate, business partner, and best friend.”

“Pleasure,” Bobbi Mae drawled, her voice warm and syrupy, with just a hint of steel underneath. She was holding aprofessional-looking camera in one hand and balanced a tripod against her hip. Her sharp features, dark eyes, and short-cropped hair had me doing a double take. For a split second, I thought she was a ridiculously attractive twink. Then the pieces clicked, and I realized she was an exceptionally handsome woman.

“Uh, hi,” I stammered, shaking Cam’s hand before stepping back to let them in.

Bobbi Mae didn’t wait for formalities, already scanning the room with a professional eye. “This the spot?” she asked.

“No, um, there’s a bedroom down the hall. Um, can I get you anything to drink?” I offered, my polite instincts kicking in despite the fact that my heart was about to pound out of my chest.

“Time’s money, sugar,” Bobbi Mae said, brushing past me with a smirk. “I’ve got another gig in Brooklyn in three hours, so let’s hurry this shit up.”

Cam chuckled, following her inside with a tall stand and what looked like some sort of pro lighting thingy. “Don’t mind her. She’s always in a rush,” he said, flashing me a grin that made my stomach flip.

I led them to Bradley’s old bedroom, feeling like a condemned man walking to the gallows. As soon as we stepped inside, Bobbi Mae’s eyes darted around the space, her expression unimpressed.

“Good thing we brought lights,” she muttered, setting her equipment down on the bed. “Natural light in here is trash.”

I hovered near the doorway, unsure of what to do with myself as she started unpacking the camera gear with swift efficiency. Meanwhile, Cam was already pulling his shirt over his head, revealing a body so sculpted it might as well have been chiseled from marble. He kicked off his shoes, then slid his jeansdown, leaving him standing there in nothing but an olive-green jockstrap that left almost nothing to the imagination.

My breath caught, and I felt my face flush.

“You good?” Cam asked casually, catching me staring.

“Y-yeah,” I mumbled, fumbling with the buttons on my shirt. My fingers shook so badly it took twice as long as it should have to get it off.

As I worked on my shirt, Bobbi Mae glanced over at me. “Just so we’re clear,” she said, not looking up from adjusting her tripod, “this video’s going on both of your FantasyFans pages. Double exposure means more subscribers for everyone. That work for you?”

“Sure,” I croaked.

“Good,” she said briskly, then pointed a finger at Cam. “And don’t forget who’s the boss. You’re just the actor, remember?”

Cam laughed, throwing a wink her way. “Yes, ma’am.”

I managed a weak smile, but my nerves were rapidly unraveling. My mind spun, caught somewhere between the surrealness of the situation and my ever-present anxiety. I barely registered when Bobbi Mae turned her sharp gaze on me again.

“All right, let’s cut to it. You wanna top or bottom?”

The question hit me like a slap.

“I—uh—what?”

She raised an eyebrow. “I need to know what you two are doing so I can get the camera angles right. You topping or bottoming?”

My mouth went dry. The room felt unbearably hot. My brain scrambled for an answer, but all it conjured was a hazy memory of sophomore year, of the one time I’d gone that far with a guy I had a hopeless crush on. He’d ghosted me the next day.

Bobbi Mae snapped her fingers. “Hello? Earth to Liam. What’s the deal?”

I closed my eyes and forced myself to breathe. This wasn’t about feelings or heartbreak or anything else. It was about survival, and making rent.

“Bottom,” I said finally, my voice barely audible.

“Great,” she said, like it was the easiest thing in the world. “Strip.”

I swallowed hard, peeled off the rest of my clothes, and stood there, feeling more exposed than I’d ever been in my life.