approachable.”
“What else did you need to approach me?” he teased, “I practically chased you down, Ms. Britton. I don’t think you had much of a choice.”
I laughed and hid my face in my hands, suddenly overcome with embarrassment at my assessment. “I mean here you are… you …and you’re famous and amazing and everybody knows who you are. And here I am… me …a nobody. I still don’t know how this all happened.”
“You are certainly not a nobody,” he said, “especially not to me, love. You are very much a somebody.”
“But it’s all so crazy,” I protested, “this kind of thing really doesn’t happen in real life. So when you tell me something that makes you less than one hundred percent flawless, it means I can relate with you on some level.”
“I wish it weren’t that particular level though,” he sighed.
“Me too,” I replied, “but sorrow is powerful, and if that’s the one place where we meet up, then perhaps it truly is meant to be. We’re in each other’s lives to help each other heal. I know I haven’t felt this alive in years, but of course I can’t speak for you and your amazing life.”
He paused and appeared to think about my response. I loved studying his perfect face while he thought about something I said. He finally replied, “It’s odd though, people look at me from the outside and assume everything is perfect. It’s not, and for years I’ve felt like I’ve been living a lie.”
“Do you not like modeling?”
“I do,” he admitted, “I enjoy what I do but there are times I feel like half a person. My family doesn’t want anyone knowing about the adoption, and my publicist said if the press caught wind of my early childhood, it would be career suicide. There’s nothing sexy about the poor little orphan boy who was almost killed by his deranged father. The general public doesn’t want real, they want sexy.”
“I’m not the general public,” I replied and pressed my face to his naked chest again, felt the steady rhythm of my heart reassuring me this wasn’t a dream, this was all happening. “I find you sexy and wonderful and absolutely perfect for me no matter where you came from.”
He kissed the top of my head and said, “That’s exactly why I love you so much, Ms. Britton, you are unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”
I smiled and closed my eyes, felt his hands touching me, but more than that, I felt his soul touching mine.
Chapter Seven
“It’s just for three days,” David, Gavin’s agent, said, “and the pay is awesome. We’ll fly you there, shoot for one full day, dinner with the photographer, and back here the next day. So not even three full days, really.”
He had just told Gavin about a short job in New York, but it was starting tomorrow and would go over the weekend. He wouldn’t be back until Sunday evening, and my birthday was Saturday. We’d planned a small party to celebrate.
He looked at me and rubbed his chin, he had some stubble growing in and the small action of his hand moving over it made me squirm in my seat.
I wondered if I’d ever get tired of looking at him, if I’d ever get bored of his incredible hotness.
My clenching, wet pussy said the forecast was not bloody likely.
“I can’t do it,” he said, “I don’t care who it’s for.”
“Calvin won’t like this,” David replied, “this might mean you’re bumped off next season. I know it’s not convenient, but you have to understand that the best photographers are booked years in advance, when they get an opening, the team has to take it.”
“It’s Sarai’s birthday,” he said and grabbed my hand, “I can’t turn my back on her.”
“Bring her along then,” David said, “make a weekend of it.”
“I’ve got inventory Friday,” I interjected, “I promised Marta. She’s short staffed as it is…sorry.”
“It’s not going to work,” Gavin insisted, “tell Calvin to give me more notice next time.”
“Gavin,” David
“What else did you need to approach me?” he teased, “I practically chased you down, Ms. Britton. I don’t think you had much of a choice.”
I laughed and hid my face in my hands, suddenly overcome with embarrassment at my assessment. “I mean here you are… you …and you’re famous and amazing and everybody knows who you are. And here I am… me …a nobody. I still don’t know how this all happened.”
“You are certainly not a nobody,” he said, “especially not to me, love. You are very much a somebody.”
“But it’s all so crazy,” I protested, “this kind of thing really doesn’t happen in real life. So when you tell me something that makes you less than one hundred percent flawless, it means I can relate with you on some level.”
“I wish it weren’t that particular level though,” he sighed.
“Me too,” I replied, “but sorrow is powerful, and if that’s the one place where we meet up, then perhaps it truly is meant to be. We’re in each other’s lives to help each other heal. I know I haven’t felt this alive in years, but of course I can’t speak for you and your amazing life.”
He paused and appeared to think about my response. I loved studying his perfect face while he thought about something I said. He finally replied, “It’s odd though, people look at me from the outside and assume everything is perfect. It’s not, and for years I’ve felt like I’ve been living a lie.”
“Do you not like modeling?”
“I do,” he admitted, “I enjoy what I do but there are times I feel like half a person. My family doesn’t want anyone knowing about the adoption, and my publicist said if the press caught wind of my early childhood, it would be career suicide. There’s nothing sexy about the poor little orphan boy who was almost killed by his deranged father. The general public doesn’t want real, they want sexy.”
“I’m not the general public,” I replied and pressed my face to his naked chest again, felt the steady rhythm of my heart reassuring me this wasn’t a dream, this was all happening. “I find you sexy and wonderful and absolutely perfect for me no matter where you came from.”
He kissed the top of my head and said, “That’s exactly why I love you so much, Ms. Britton, you are unlike anyone I’ve ever met.”
I smiled and closed my eyes, felt his hands touching me, but more than that, I felt his soul touching mine.
Chapter Seven
“It’s just for three days,” David, Gavin’s agent, said, “and the pay is awesome. We’ll fly you there, shoot for one full day, dinner with the photographer, and back here the next day. So not even three full days, really.”
He had just told Gavin about a short job in New York, but it was starting tomorrow and would go over the weekend. He wouldn’t be back until Sunday evening, and my birthday was Saturday. We’d planned a small party to celebrate.
He looked at me and rubbed his chin, he had some stubble growing in and the small action of his hand moving over it made me squirm in my seat.
I wondered if I’d ever get tired of looking at him, if I’d ever get bored of his incredible hotness.
My clenching, wet pussy said the forecast was not bloody likely.
“I can’t do it,” he said, “I don’t care who it’s for.”
“Calvin won’t like this,” David replied, “this might mean you’re bumped off next season. I know it’s not convenient, but you have to understand that the best photographers are booked years in advance, when they get an opening, the team has to take it.”
“It’s Sarai’s birthday,” he said and grabbed my hand, “I can’t turn my back on her.”
“Bring her along then,” David said, “make a weekend of it.”
“I’ve got inventory Friday,” I interjected, “I promised Marta. She’s short staffed as it is…sorry.”
“It’s not going to work,” Gavin insisted, “tell Calvin to give me more notice next time.”
“Gavin,” David
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