Iris Blaire - Dark Frame

Finally, she says, “So Jaime and Adam told me how you were inspired for today’s shoot.”

I stop breathing, looking up at her. They did not. “What did they say?”

She cocks a deviant eyebrow. “How someone enjoyed having two mouths on her a little too much.”

I feel my face flush. “Don’t tell anyone.”

Evan rolls her eyes. “Please. You should be proud of yourself—having two gorgeous male models who want to please you without a camera on them.”

“It wasn’t even… having both of them.” I shudder at the thought of that amazing kiss.

Evan raises her eyebrows, crossing her arms. “It’s Jaime, isn’t it?”

I groan and drop the iPad, falling back onto the bed. “What is wrong with me?”

She giggles. “Well, whatever he did to you, it got you into a super-kinky think mode, which is what A.J. is looking for, correct?”

“Yeah. So?”

“My suggestion?” she says as I sit up. “Keep it up with him.”

The thought of living out my teenage fantasies once again sparks a crazy electric feeling right at my core, and I nearly moan from the thought. “It’s not that simple.”

“I’m not saying that you need to fall in love with the guy,” Evan says, examining her cuticles nonchalantly. “All I’m saying is that you should use him. It’s the least he can do to pay you back after all of those years of teasing and torment.”

I raise my eyebrows. “An apology,” I muse.

The best apology of all.

* * *

I’m not expecting A.J. to call me.

“Not good enough,” he tells me. “Not at all.”

“What?”

“Honestly, Britain, if you refuse to listen to me, then I’m going to have to pull the whole project from you.”

What the fuck? What happened to the artistic license that he promised me? “It was a last minute idea. I thought it would be sexy.”

“Sexy? It was practically cute!” A.J. cries. “Listen, Britain. I like you. I gave you freedom to do what you want because I thought that you’d like to push yourself.”

“I am—″

“You aren’t being edgy enough. My team wants to take EPE to the next level of sexy, but we can’t if you aren’t willing to listen to me. Give me edgy. Give me sex.”

“I—alright.”

“And for the love of God, put Willow and Whitley back together, would you?”

He hangs up on me.

I hold my phone in front of my face and annunciate as slowly as possible, “Fuck. You.”

* * *

I haven’t told Evan yet that she and Dallas have to pose together. I can’t. I need some time to think about what I’m going to tell my models what A.J. expects from the magazine now. I don’t even know how to execute it without everyone fucking each other.

The Veda staff has prepared several platters that they change throughout the day for picking at. Breads, deli meat, nuts, fruit, cheeses. I make myself a sandwich and head back to my room to think more, and when I do, there’s a box of tampons with a note attached to it.

“What the hell,” I murmur, scooping up the note.

I remembered this one last night. Real jackass move on my part.

I laugh into the back of my hand.

I have no sexy innuendo to tack onto the end of this one. Even though vaginas are still awesome.

If you corner me alone tonight, I’ll give you a clue as to why I did it.

Stepping into my room, I eye the pair of black lace panties scrunched up on the end table.

Oh. I’ll find him tonight, alright.

* * *

It’s not too hard to follow Jaime back to his room when he heads in after dinner and drinks.

I’m not wearing anything too special for him. Just my best jeans and a black, low-cut tank top. I switched my glasses out for contacts for the first time on this trip, my hair swept to the side in a braid.

Hopefully, it’s enough to do the trick.

He opens the door a few seconds after I knock, already dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. I can see the ripples of his abs through the fabric.

He looks surprised. “Wow. I really wasn’t expecting you to show up.”

“I’m full of surprises,” I say, sliding between him and the door and strutting into the room.

He scratches his head. “So I guess I owe you a clue now as to why I strung tampons outside your bedroom window.”

I cross my arms and lean back against the bedroom desk. “I believe you do,” I say, keeping a straight face.

He bites down on his full bottom lip, the lip I was biting on yesterday.

“And please, don’t tell me it’s because you had a crush on me.”

He grins. “It’s not that simple. You see, most teenage boys are total dicks.”

“I’m aware.”

“And don’t understand the female body at all.”

“I’m aware of that too.”

“You were thirteen, Britain. You were… pretty, and growing up. All of those boys you brought over to your house to go swimming you flirted like hell with.”

I scoff. “Of course. I liked them, hello.”

“And I was jealous I hadn’t once seen that side of you.”

I open my mouth, but his confession catches me off guard. “You what?”

“So, I took the most feminine thing I could find in your bathroom and I embarrassed you with it.”

My head is reeling. “That is… wow. So misogynistic.”

“Tell me about it.” He rubs his hand over his head as he stares at me. “This isn’t an excuse, but no one ever told me how to treat girls when I was a teenager. I thought I was doing alright.”

I laugh in disbelief, shaking my head.

“And then I had a couple of hard slaps with reality and I learned the truth really damn quick.” He sighs. “Anyway, I’m sorry.”

“Wow, Jaime.” I inhale deeply, tuggineg on the end of my braid. “That took some guts to tell me the truth.”

He sits on the bed, clasping his hands in between his legs. “You really shouldn’t forgive me.”

“Probably not.” I quickly change the subject. “So why did you steal my underwear and hang them on the fence?”

He slowly raises a dark eyebrow. “I’m pretty wrung for confessions at the moment.”

I push myself away from the desk, brushing my fingers along the waistband of my jeans. Slowly, I pop the button and unzip my fly.

His jaw drops.

“I think you made a promise.”

He watches as I slide my jeans past my hips and step out of them, leaving them in a pool on the floor. My heart’s hammering in my chest, but I can’t stop now.

I have to go through with this.

When I reach him, I slide onto his lap, wrapping my arms around his neck. He looks like he’s trying to formulate words, but nothing is leaving that gorgeous mouth of his.

The light of the chandelier catches his eyes, and for the first time, I see how many earthy colors are inside of them.

“Brit, I… I can’t do this.”

I cock my head. That was the last thing I expected to come out of his mouth.

“What do you mean?”

“Cameron would murder me.”

Oh, please.

I don’t say that, exactly, but I know he can read my face. I trace my finger along his soft bottom lip, and he shudders. “Here’s a little lesson in feminism.” He rolls his eyes as if he knows where this is going, but I continue. “I’m twenty-two and completely capable of making my own decisions. I’m also not Cameron’s property. Got it?”

“Brit…”

I trace my finger down the center of his chest, and his eyes flutter shut. “I’m not asking you to fall in love with me, Jaime.” I lean forward, my nose brushing his. “You’ve been at this game for far too long, and I’m finally showing you that two can play.” When his eyes open, I whisper, “So play with me.”

It’s enough. He cups the back of my neck and pulls my mouth to his. It isn’t like the kiss we shared last night. He’s rough and needy, biting my lip, sliding his tongue into my mouth and tasting me over and over.

His hand slides up my shirt and he softly palms my breast. I release a sharp gasp when his thumb rubs against the fabric covering my nipple.

“Oh, God,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Oh, God, this can’t be happening.” He cups both of my breasts and looks down at them. “You know, I’ve fantasized about touching you this way.”

I lean into his ear. “I have some clues for you now.” I press a kiss to his neck. “Clues about my fantasies.”

Just like that, I slide off of him, turning to retrieve my pants. When I’ve slipped them on and buttoned them, he says breathlessly, “I give up, Brit. What do I have to do?”

I study him. He looks so helpless, leaning back on his hands, begging me with his eyes, his erection straining against his jeans. I nearly melt into a puddle at the site of him. I’ve never seen him look so desperate. Not in twenty years.

“You’ll get them with your next apology,” I say, turning on my heel and walking out of his room.

When I’m halfway down the stairs to the second floor, I press my hand to my chest, feeling the thrum of my heart. And then I laugh to myself.

This might be the best idea Evan has ever had.

Evan

Every time I return to the house, Britain finds somewhere even more disturbing to shoot.

This time, it’s the gardens.

You wouldn’t normally think gardens to be creepy, now would you? But the Veda gardens are different. First of all, they’re monstrous. The staff here is only hired seasonally, and because the gardens aren’t open to the public, only the outer, visible edges of them are really taken care of.