She wrinkled her forehead. “Oh. Okay. I promise.”
She slid out the door, hearing Cash’s low curses as he rummaged around in the closet. In the living room, she grabbed her camera and peered through the lens, snapping a couple of test shots to assess the lighting in the room. She adjusted the shutter speed and aperture, then fiddled around with the focus until she was pleased with the results.
Five minutes passed and Cash still didn’t make an appearance.
“You coming?” Jen called.
Heavy footsteps thudded from the hall, then ceased.
“I promised I wouldn’t laugh,” she told the empty doorway. “Now get that sexy ass out here and let’s start this photo shoot before I change my—”
Her words died in her throat when he stepped out.
And God help her, but even though she’d promised not to laugh, she couldn’t help herself. Doubling over, Jen laughed so hard she thought her ribs would crack open from the force of her convulsions. When she started wheezing, she clutched her side and dropped her gaze to her feet.
“God, I’m going to pee my pants,” she choked out between giggles. “I can’t look at you.”
She spun around, hoping that if he wasn’t in her field of vision, she could regain some semblance of control, but the image of Cash in that sweater had been burned into her mind, and the laughter continued to roll out in waves.
“Thanks, thanks a lot,” she heard him mutter. “I’ll just go hang myself now.”
“No, don’t. I’m sorry, I couldn’t help myself.” She wiped the corners of her eyes and turned to face him. “I’ll be good now, I swear.”
He tilted his head in the most adorable way. “It’s not that bad, is it?”
“It’s the most bizarre thing I’ve ever seen.”
She gave the sweater another long once-over, trying to fathom what the hell she was seeing. The sweater had been knitted out of pink and green wool, clearly handmade judging by the uneven stitching and lopsided neckline, and as if the pink and green stripes weren’t distracting enough, Cash’s grandmother had stitched an image in the center of the sweater. Jen suspected it was supposed to be Cash, since the disproportioned male figure wore a uniform. A red uniform. With a black helmet. And she didn’t even want to know what he was holding in his hands.
She started to get slightly dizzy from all the colors flashing at her. Pink, green, red, black. She swallowed another gust of laughter. “Is that you?”
His jaw was tighter than a drum. “Yes.”
“Why are you holding a dildo?”
Cash briefly closed his eyes, as if trying to talk himself out of murdering her. “It’s a shotgun.”
“Why would a Navy SEAL carry a shotgun?”
“Because she couldn’t find a pattern for an assault rifle.”
“Oh.” Jen clamped her lips together to stifle another giggle. “And why is the uniform red? Are you supposed to be a guard at Buckingham Palace?”
“Can you just take the fucking picture?”
She was still chuckling to herself as she picked up the camera and aimed it at Cash. She took a candid shot, then glanced at the digital display and laughed at the stony expression on his face.
“You have to smile for the next one. Otherwise your grandmother will know exactly what you think of her sweater.”
For the next twenty minutes, Jen had an absolute blast ordering him around. She snapped far more shots than necessary, but she couldn’t help herself. The sight of tough guy Cash in that pink and green sweater was too tempting an opportunity to ignore. She made him pose by the window, in the living room, in the kitchen. Sitting, standing, striking a thoughtful finger-on-the-chin pose.
But all bets were off when she tried to persuade him to lie on the couch in the ultimate male pin-up pose—that’s when he promptly grabbed the camera from her hands and announced he’d had enough.
“We’re done,” he declared, then proceeded to strip off his sweater as if it was covered in ants. “And I’m officially never wearing this thing again.” To punctuate the declaration, he whipped the sweater on the couch. “Now, do you want to grab some lunch at the grill on 4th? I’m in the mood for a steak.”
“At three o’clock in the afternoon?”
“After what you just put me through, I feel like a juicy T-bone is the only thing that will reaffirm my masculinity.”
Shooting him a sassy smile, Jen stalked over and cupped his package over his cargo pants. “Mmm. I could go for a juicy T-bone myself.”
He rewarded her with a wicked grin. “Baby, I like the way your mind works.”
“How about my mouth? Do you like the way that works too?” She dropped to her knees and unzipped his pants. He’d gone commando and his erection sprang out with an excited bob.
Licking her lips, she dipped her head and licked a little circle around the head of his cock.