A notorious snoop with a voyeuristic streak has her own secrets. When one is discovered, will her world unravel?
Janet should never have kept the boudoir photos she’d taken of her clients, and now they’ve fallen into the wrong hands. His strong, capable, incredibly sexy hands. She practically handed him a sledgehammer and invited him to knock down the walls she uses to shelter her heart.
After years of jumping through hurdles in his pursuit of Janet, Emmett finally stumbles upon a way to win her over. If he can coax her into his bed, maybe, just maybe he can convince her that he’s worth more than a quick roll in the sheets.
But is hot sex enough to get her to open up? To trust him with more than just her body?
She’s too fucking skinny. Emmett couldn’t help the thought as his palms encased Alexis’s narrow waist, brushing against her pronounced hip bones. She wasn’t the type of woman that appealed to him, yet he’d likely be taking her home tonight, unless Janet smartened up and accepted his offer.
Mentally he snorted. Like that would ever happen.
With his lips inches from Alexis’s, he stared into her eyes trying to project an air of lust and need, but it was damn hard to do when her cheekbones poked out from her pale face and her eyes lacked much emotion and pretty much all common sense.
Instead, he pictured Janet. With her gorgeous head of blonde hair, her big pouty lips, and her all-too-knowing gaze—a gaze that saw through just about any bullshit that was tossed her way. She was incredible.
Scratch that. She was fucking perfect, actually.
Yet she wouldn’t let him touch her, wouldn’t even let him take her out on a date. And not for lack of trying. It had been years since he started trying to win her over. She should throw him a scrap just for his persistence alone, but she was too damn stubborn. Just another thing he adored about her.
Nearby a camera clicked. Both he and Alexis ignored it.
How much longer would Janet put him off, he wondered. Not for the first time, he considered giving up on her. But he needed her to realize that he wanted more than just a couple of hot sweaty nights. Of course, he wanted those too. He just wanted a hell of a lot more than one night, or even a long weekend. With Janet, he wanted everything, but she wasn’t willing to look beyond his playboy past. Or at least that was the most recent excuse she fed him.
“That’s great!” Janet’s excited voice cut through his thoughts. Neither he nor Alexis bothered to look toward her—they each held their position until she gave further direction. “Emmett, can you get a little closer? And both of you close your eyes, you know, like you’re actually going to kiss?”
Emmett followed her instructions, gently pulling Alexis closer as Janet snapped more photos in rapid succession. Moments later, she announced, “Great, now Emmett, you can step away. He wants some of just Alexis now.”
Letting his muscles relax, Emmett stepped away from the model and shook his shoulders.
There was no question of who he was. Joshua Coleson. Coleson owned the magazine where they all freelanced, Emmett and Alexis were models, and Janet was Coleson’s most prolific photographer. Although she ran her own side business, Emmett knew most of her coin came from jobs Coleson handed her.
It wasn’t long ago that hearing her mention Coleson had put Emmett’s teeth on edge. It was no secret that she’d carried a torch for her boss, but when he’d run off with a woman half his age and married her in a sloppy, drunken Vegas ceremony, Janet seemed to have lost all respect for him.
He thought that would have been the perfect time to try to swoop in on her, but then she’d thrown his manwhore ways in his face, claiming she wouldn’t be another notch on his bedpost. No matter what he told her, she didn’t seem to believe he was capable of changing.
He would. He had. For her.
Not that she seemed to notice.
Stepping away from the backdrop, Emmett glanced over at Janet. A large cowl-neck sweater hung from her frame, the three-quarter length sleeves were pushed up past her elbows, and gold bangles encircled her wrists. Her tight black leggings were stuffed into thermal socks. She was dressed for late autumn, though often she dressed warmly at work, because her studio was always chilly. It was always a few degrees below room temperature. A deliberate move on her part to get her model’s nipples to pop for photos.
Emmett’s own nipples were tightly beaded, but he doubted that had much to do with the chill and had everything to do with watching Janet in her element.
She snapped a few more pictures, then repositioned Alexis before capturing several more quick photos. He leaned against the hallway wall and waited. He wanted another chance to talk to Janet alone, and when she handed Alexis a bikini, asking her to change, he knew he’d have an opportunity.
Emmett didn’t bother watching Alexis walk away. Sure, most men would be tripping over themselves for a chance with her, but she didn’t do it for him. He much preferred the way Janet’s hips swayed as she walked to the high-heeled strut that Alexis sported.
Janet ignored him while checking her camera and flicking through some of the photos she’d already taken. She smiled at the ones she was proud of, and a little crease appeared between her brows when she spotted an image that she was less than pleased with.
Using caution, Emmett approached her. “Got some good ones?” he asked when she beamed at a few images in a row.
“Yeah, lots. You brought your A-game tonight.” She turned the camera screen toward him, flashing a photo where he gripped the back of Alexis’s head and bent her backward as though he was taking complete control over a very passionate moment. “It’s pretty hot, Emmett. What were you thinking about?”
He knew the second he answered the smile that tugged her lips would disappear, but he said it anyway. “You, Janet. I was thinking about you.”
She glanced from the screen to him. Swallowing, she took a step away from him, returning the camera to its mount.
“Come home with me tonight.” The words were barely above a whisper, not because he cared what Alexis heard, fuck no. It was simply an utterance of something he desired so badly that it was as though his very soul had spoken the words.