Miles doesn’t blink. He grins and waves his hand. “Hi, there.”

“We’re studying,” I tell Dallas. “How about we talk in the hallway?”

I don’t wait for Dallas’s response. Instead, I slip out of the room and shut the door behind me, leaving Miles alone.

I cross my arms and lean against the wall. It’s my posture to stay closed-off to him, to let him know that coming to my dorm in the middle of the night doesn’t affect me one bit.

Not one bit.

“So you’re here just because A.J. called you and asked nicely?” I press sternly, my eyes locked on his. I’m trying to keep my concentration away from how beautiful they are, and how much I miss him.

He runs his fingers through his dark hair and leans against the opposite wall, right next to Miles’s dorm. “Not just because he asked nicely. Because he’s paying me—a lot. Just like you.”

My face falls. I wasn’t expecting that. “You’re here because he bribed you?”

“You’re here because he bribed you.”

“Actually, I go to school here, Dallas.” Now I’m mad, and I can’t even place my finger on the reason why. I sigh, rubbing my eyes. “What do you want?”

“I—I just wanted to talk to you. To make things—okay between us.”

Things won’t be okay between us. It’s not even that we had a nasty breakup. But the most polite breakup in the world still stings like a bitch. Everyone knows that.

“They’re okay.”

“Promise?”

I shrug. “That doesn’t mean I want to shoot with you.”

His face grows somber. “I get that. But if it comes down to it—″

“It won’t.”

“But if it does, I’m not going to try and… I don’t know… seduce you or anything.”

“Oh, thanks, I was worried,” I say dryly, even though I can’t lie to myself. I’m a bit disappointed.

What the hell is wrong with you, Evan?

“I mean it. Everything on set is just working.”

I open my mouth to try and come up with some snappy, smart thing to say, but it just hangs open dumbly. I shut it and say, “Okay.”

He nods. “Cool, so I’ll see you tomorrow? And tell your boyfriend I’m sorry I interrupted you guys.”

I narrow my eyes. “Please, I’ve been here for two weeks. He’s not my boyfriend.”

“Whatever,” Dallas says. “I know how those studying situations work out with you, remember?”

He tries to play off his comment coolly, like he’s brushing off our whole relationship to try and prove to me he’s over me.

But Dallas is rarely a mystery to me, or so I’d like to think. And I’d also like to think that I can hear the note of dejection in his voice.

* * *

“Who was that?” asks Miles when I sit back down.

There’s no point in hiding it. “My ex,” I say with indifference.

“I see,” he says flatly. “What did he want?”

“He was stopping by to give me a work update.”

“You work with him?”

“I do.”

“And he couldn’t just call you?”

“What is this, twenty questions?”

Without looking up from Atwood, he raises his eyebrow. “It’s a game I’m really good at.”

I grin, stretching my foot forward to brush against his again.

* * *

I’ve never been uncomfortable in a photo shoot before.

Not even when the set is busy. Not even last semester when Dallas and I had our naughty school girl theme we had to stick to.

This feeling is entirely new to me.

Maybe that’s because I know he is standing right outside the bright lighting in the dark, leaning against the stone wall with his arms crossed, watching me.

Watching us.

That might be another reason for me being uncomfortable. Britain stuck me with two guys—Jaime and Adam, of all people—for this erotic dungeon shoot.

Oh yeah—we’re also in a dungeon. Talk about cold and creepy and so not sexy.

The dungeon is beneath the first floor next to a small theatre used for who-knows-what kind of performances. Neither are open during tourist season. They stay locked up, and for good reason. They’re creepy as fuck. Historians say that the Vedas hosted mass BDSM parties in the dungeon and theatre. There are straps and chains and boards and weird, terrifying-looking devices everywhere.

“I really hope all of this has been sanitized,” I mutter.

Behind me, Jaime chuckles.

The three of us are on a stone bench. I have an iron chain wrapped around me, erotically covering my most erogenous parts. Jaime’s sitting behind me and Adam in front. Jaime’s torso is pressed against my spine and my legs are wrapped around Adam, like we’re about to take part in a three-way.

In any other situation, I’d probably be able to have a good time with this—especially with guys like Adam and Jaime. We’d whisper some jokes back and forth to each other, snort and chuckle and piss Britain off a bit, and then have a great shoot.

But all models who don’t have other important obligations (which is pretty much just me) are required to sit and watch all of the other photo shoots, like they’ll learn from them or something. Dallas is already made up with fake cuts and bruises for his sexy bondage shoot with Ella, sitting against the wall of the dungeon with the other models.

Watching us.

“You look in pain, Rylan,” Britain says as she takes a few test shots.

“I thought that was the whole point of the shoot.”

“You don’t look like you’re in sexy pain. You look like you’re in constipated pain.”

Adam busts up laughing right in my face and I smack him on the cheek.

“This is so stupid,” I mutter, trying to blow off my embarrassment. “Where the hell did Britain even get the idea for a shoot like this?”

I watch as Adam shoots Jaime a wicked look. Something happened—something they’re not telling me.

“Ugh, this fucking lens. Something is wrong with this lens.” Britain steps off of the box and hurries to her camera bag in the corner of the dungeon.

“Tell me,” I say to Adam with as much threat as I can muster.

“Let’s just say…” I can tell he’s thinking of his words carefully. “We inspired Britain. During the little game we played last night.”

Jaime’s lips brush against my ear. “Both of us.”

My mouth drops. “You’re shitting me.”

“Don’t get any ideas,” Adam says, even though his amused smile continues to toy with his lips. “We only made out with her a little bit.”

“Simultaneously,” Jaime adds.

“Holy fuck!” I hiss.

“Calm down, calm down, she’ll know we told you,” Adam says when Britain returns.

“Okay.” Britain stands on her box and adjusts the new lens. “Can we get through this quickly without me incessantly barking at the three of you?”

If Britain can handle two guys at once, then I can too.

Even if Dallas is watching me.

I don’t know what goes through me. Jaime tugs on the chain wrapped around me, forcing my back to arch, and suddenly I feel vibrant and hypersexual.

I lean my head back against Jaime’s chest, squeezing my thighs against Adam’s hips. “You aren’t half-bad looking, you know?”

“Are you coming onto me, Evan Cosette?” Adam asks in wicked amusement.

“Bite me,” I tell him.

He scoots backward enough to lie on his stomach in front of me, spreads my legs, and bites me hard right above my hip bone.

The cry that escapes my mouth surprises even myself. I arch back into Jaime and shut my eyes, hearing Britain exclaim, “Perfect!”

Warmth swells in the apex of my thighs, and I know I’m getting most turned on by Dallas watching, praying he’s growing jealous.

Just like I had to be jealous with Kayden hanging all over him in the rain.


After our shoot, Britain uses the dungeon for Ella’s and Dallas’s set. As they get into position, Dallas’s eyes continue to dart in my direction. Britain hums and haws over how she wants the two of them to pose, but Dallas isn’t paying attention.

I guess it doesn’t help that I’m standing just outside the light without wearing my robe, dressed only in my favorite pair of light blue panties that I often wear around set. I have my arms crossed over my bare chest.

Watching him.

Britain wants Ella to go all dominatrix on his ass. Dallas lies stomach down on the ground, wearing nothing other than the leather straps fastened around his body. Ella wears a pair of daring stilettos and black silk panties.

When the shoot starts, I drop my arms and place them on my hips.

Dallas’s eyes flit across my body. Ella steps onto Dallas’s back in a stiletto-clad shoe and his eyes shut in pain.

“Hurt him just a little, Ella. Sorry, Dallas. I hope you don’t mind.”

An AA prop person runs forward and hands Ella a whip. As Ella giggles, all the models who are watching groan or laugh or release a mixture of the two.

“S’fine,” Dallas grunts.

Ella has fun with the shoot. She leans over Dallas and smacks him hard in the ass. I watch as his perfect thigh muscles clench every time, suddenly wishing I was Ella for my sense of pride, and also because whipping Dallas sounds like the best high I’d get all week.

Ella rubs her hand over his ass and down his thigh. Envy grows in me until Dallas opens his eyes and finds mine again, and I clench my legs together.

And then, I swear that he mouths my name, right before Ella’s whip lands with a crack on him again.

Britain


“They aren’t your best shots,” I tell Evan. “But they’re decent, and sexy.”

We sit on my bed in my lavish suite as I look through the photos. She’s still only dressed in her silk robe. She’s silent as I pick a few of my favorites to send to A.J.