Goddammit. She’d done that on purpose.
He could do it as well. He raised his hand and laid it above her hip, knowing he couldn’t obscure the swimwear. After all, that’s what they were advertising. His fingers bit into her skin, enough that he caught the flash of awareness in her eyes.
“Yes, that’s perfect,” the director said. “Hold it there.”
Grant heard the click of the camera several times.
“Now move. Get into each other. Lean in, touch. Be mindful of your angles, Katrina. And Grant, follow her lead.”
“Yes, Grant,” Katrina said, shifting a little, then picking up his hand and placing it on her butt. “Follow my lead.”
It wasn’t like he hadn’t had to pose for a photo session before. He wasn’t a rookie here. He knew what he was doing, how to move and react to the camera, and when to be still.
Katrina might be the pro here, but he could play the game, too. He cupped her butt, making sure he didn’t squeeze. He slid his fingers lightly over her skin, tucking his fingertips slightly inside the edge of her suit.
He heard each breath she took, saw the smoldering look in her eyes, and his body reacted.
So did hers, as her nipples pebbled, brushing against his chest.
His lips curved.
Just a job his ass.
He moved with every few clicks of the camera, turned his head, shifted his body against hers, making sure their clothes remained the focus while keeping his gaze intently on hers. When he drew a strand of her hair between his fingers, letting his knuckles brush the swell of her breasts, he heard her sharp intake of breath.
“Just a job, right?” he asked, turning her around so her back was to him. That way he could skim his hand down her arm, letting his fingers rest at her hip.
“This is perfect,” the director said. “Keep doing what you’re doing.”
He listened to the sound of Katrina’s breaths, got comfortable with her ass nestled into his crotch.
They fit damned perfect together. She was tall—taller than the average woman. He didn’t have to crouch down to fit her to him. She had long legs. Really nice legs, too. He’d noticed … everything about her.
“Okay, let’s break for a few,” the director said. “You both need an outfit change. Then we’ll resume.”
Before he had a chance to say anything, Katrina pushed off and walked away, heading into the cabana. Her assistant, or whoever, handed her a bottle of water, and she disappeared without a word to him.
Friendly, wasn’t she?
He wandered off at the direction of the staff to change his board shorts and to have his hair and makeup adjusted. When he came back out, Katrina was in a short robe.
He was called out toward a tree facing the sun.
“Ready for you, Katrina,” the director said.
She dropped the robe, and Grant blinked. Katrina wore only a thong bottom. She stood still while they arranged her hair to partially cover her breasts.
And what fantastic breasts they were, too. He decided to look elsewhere, like out on the water, until she showed up in front of him. In this game they were playing, it was best for him not to show a physical reaction.
“Katrina, you against the tree. Grant, you plant one hand above her head to start, lean into her body.”
Some of the assistants positioned them while Grant and Katrina made eye contact.
She met his gaze with a cool one of her own, a challenge to him, as if she’d done this a million times, as if rubbing her breasts against his chest wasn’t a big deal. To her, it probably wasn’t. She wanted to know if he’d react.
To him, he had a gorgeous, half-naked woman pressed up against him, and his dick was trying very hard to respond to that, while he was trying equally as hard to convince his dick nothing was going to happen out here on the beach with twenty other people watching.
“Ready?” the director asked.
Katrina tilted her head back toward the sun. “Yes.”
Grant gave a quick nod, hoping like hell this wouldn’t take long, especially since every time Katrina moved, she rubbed her breasts against his chest. And because she was topless, they had to take special care that no nipple was visible. They took every shot carefully, stopping to rearrange her hair or strategically place his arm or hand.
It was interminable. Katrina was patient through every shot, but to Grant, it was like a goddamned eternity.
“Is it always like this?” Grant asked Katrina during one of the many breaks.
Clearly comfortable standing around having her hair and makeup retouched, Katrina cocked her head to the side. “Like what?”
“Hours of this. Click and change positions. Click and redo the hair. Click and clothing changes.”
“Oh. Yes. Always like this. Why? Are you bored?”
His lips curved and he took a glance downward where her hair barely covered her generous breasts. “Hardly.”
She rolled her eyes. “I doubt these are the first set of breasts you’ve seen. Not from what I’ve read about you.”
“And here I thought you had no idea who I was.”
“Oh, I know who you are, Grant. You’ve dated a few of my friends.”
He wondered which ones. None of them were on location with him, and he’d always remained friends with the women he dated, so he doubted they had anything bad to say about him. “Is that right. And did you get a full report?”
“Yes.”
“So that means you’ll have dinner with me tonight.”