“Sure, I do. You’re the photographer, remember?” Oh, she was getting into this.
He sighed, shook his head, resigned to his fate. “Why don’t you just make yourself comfortable?” He patted the chaise.
She held his gaze as she approached, then lowered herself onto the item, bracing herself on an elbow, covering herself with the robe so Rick would have to open it up.
He adjusted the blue pillow behind her back, then crouched beside her, inches away, frank appreciation in his gaze. He looked at her through the viewfinder. “Very nice,” he said, letting the camera fall away.
“Don’t you think I’m too covered up?” She tugged at one side of her cape. “Reveal me for the camera, Rick.” She was damned pleased with her tone.
“I hope you know what you’re doing.” He unlatched the clasp at her throat, his fingers brushing her skin, lingering a little. She breathed in his spice and starch, felt the heat shiver in the air between them. The robe teased her skin as it escaped her body, revealing her leopard-spotted bikini top and the gold-trimmed skirt.
Rick stared at her breasts. “You match the arch.” He seemed to struggle to keep his voice steady.
“Excellent choice,” she breathed. “You read my mind.”
“I’m afraid so.” He arranged the cape around her arms with care, but his fingers brushed her bra. He hesitated.
“Move me the way you want me,” she said, shifting her breasts closer to him.
“You’re not making this easy.”
“Oh, but I think I’m making this very easy.” She shrugged so that one side of the cape slid completely off her body to the floor, exposing her to the heat of the lights. Already a sheen of sweat made her thighs slippery. She wanted to wrap them around Rick’s hips and hold on. Her sex pulsed like a tiny, hot heartbeat, wanting so much more.
She guided Rick’s hand to her hip. “Move me, Rick. The way you need me.”
She felt him slide into her words, as silky as the robe falling away from her body, and he pulled her hip toward him, then brushed the top of her thigh with trailing fingers. “Bend your leg,” he said, and pushed gently at her ankle to show her how he meant her to move.
“Like this?” she asked, bending her knee, resting her foot on the chaise. “Is that better?”
“Depends what you mean by better.” Another wry smile.
“Now you need to get me in the mood,” she said. Here was where she had to handle this just right. “Ask me why I want this photograph.”
“Okay…Why do you want this photograph?”
“It’s for a man who wants me, but not…quite…enough.” She paused, settling into the role she’d decided to play.
“I see.” Rick was wary, but listening closely and his green eyes gleamed with heat.
“He wants me, but he won’t do anything about it.” She let her finger slide down the edge of her bra, gratified when Rick’s eyes followed the path her fingernail took.
“Samantha, I…”
“I don’t know why he’s resisting.” She slipped down to her stomach and made a circle around her navel. “He even made up a girlfriend to scare me away. Can you believe that?” She met his gaze.
Rick blinked, then stilled, caught and waiting for her reaction.
“I figure he must think I have…expectations. He doesn’t realize that all I want is a chance to explore our attraction, to enjoy each other physically. That’s all I want.”
Rick’s face had gone rigid, his breathing raspy, and his body vibrated with the effort it took to hold back, but he didn’t speak, didn’t make a move. Why wasn’t he giving in?
She would just have to keep coaxing him. “He doesn’t realize that I have these…fantasies that he would be perfect for.”
“Fantasies?” he said faintly.
“Yes. For example, here’s one of my favorites.” She rolled onto her back onto the soft pillows. The other side of her cape fell to the floor, leaving her body fully exposed on the chaise. She was going for broke here. “Here I am, dozing, and my man finds me. Because he thinks I’m asleep, he dares to touch my body.”
She waited for a second, eyes closed, hoping Rick would put his hand on her. But he only released a ragged breath.
She opened her eyes and met his gaze. He was staring at her, wanting her, but fighting himself, too.
“Go ahead, Rick,” she whispered. “Do what you want to do.”
When he didn’t move, she took his hand and guided it over her stomach, letting his fingers barely skim her flesh. “He’s so afraid to wake me, he barely brushes my skin. Like this.”