Chapter 13
"You may just have the best looking ass on the planet."
Yeah, yeah, sure. I roll my eyes as I tuck my face further into the soft sheet on Noah's bed. "You say that to all the girls," I mutter under my breath.
"Did you say something?" he asks just as I feel the bed shift next to me. "What was that?"
"Are we just doing ass shots today?" I toss back. I need to keep this arrangement strictly on a business level. There's no way in hell that I'm going to allow myself to get back into a position where Noah's cock is anywhere near entering my body in any capacity. That should cover all bases.
"You said you were dealing with some school stuff."
I nod. I don’t want to share any details of my life with him. He doesn't care and as soon as I do share, I'm going to be disappointed. This is a job. It's just like when I worked at Star Bistro, minus the hot guy and his impressive oral skills.
"Is that all you've got going on?" he asks as I hear the click of the camera. I know he's fishing for information about whether I hooked up with another guy since I left his place the other night. The answer to that question is a resounding and unequivocal no.
"Why aren't you asking if I like anal?" In any other circumstance that would be a conversation ender, not starter, but I am on my stomach, completely nude in the bed of one of the only men on the planet who can talk so openly about sex without being sued for harassment.
Any movement beyond my own stops and his breathing stalls. "Did you just say something about anal?"
"You were about to. I just beat you to it." I toss my head to the side so I can glance up at him. I work to level my gaze at his face instead of his ever growing penis. Would it really be that hard to take a decent picture with a pair of boxer briefs on?
"I assure you, I wasn't." He cocks a brow and lazily runs his hand over the length of his dick.
F*ck me. I can't be looking at that. I twist my head back to a forward position, instantly regretful that I looked in his direction at all.
"That's not part of your process?" I pull air quotes around the words, which isn't easy considering I'm certain I look like a beached whale at this point.
"My process varies from day-to-day." The words accompany a major shift on the mattress and I realize he's now down on his knees.
I try to move my body slightly to the right to gain distance from his leg, which is now pressing against mine. The hand on my hip stops that in its tracks.
"How long have you been doing this?" I ask after pulling my arms under my head. I wish I had thought ahead enough to grab a pillow. This position is becoming uncomfortable fast.
"Taking pictures?" It's a rhetorical question but it sucks up a few seconds of time. I'm grateful for that. I've been fishing blindly for the last hour for any subject to talk about that doesn't involve what didn't happen between us the other night. According to the text message he sent me two days ago, after today I only had to be subjected to his company two more times. I could see the finish line and my five thousand dollars in the very near distance.
"Yes. When did you get interested in it?" The words float from my lips without any curiosity attached to them. I already know the answer. After meeting Kayla at the bar, I had spent hours that night researching more about him. I'd watched a video on a website that was filmed years ago where he spoke eloquently about his love of photography. It was difficult to watch. He was scar free, much younger and had a very carefree air about him. The barrier that was an integral part of his demeanor now didn't seem to exist back then.
"When I was a kid…" his voice trails into the distance, as I close my eyes, drifting into a place of utter silence and solitude.