Yeah. Apparently I wasn’t going to manage to avoid getting my crotch out of Ivan’s face, but there was a reason I waxed regularly.
We were about to get to know each other on a totally new level, I guessed. I could do it. Of course I fucking could. I was strong, smart, and I could do anything, just like my mom had always told me.
“Hand to hand lift?” I asked my partner—my Ivan—as my hands went to the knot at my robe and began undoing it.
“Sure,” he responded, almost too easily, his own hands in the same place mine were.
Either he was really trying hard to be nice to me or he was up to something. I wasn’t sure. But I doubted he’d do something fucked up in front of cameras, especially after that pep talk.
I thought.
“Whenever you’re ready,” the photographer called out.
Is it me or do the lights seem to be too bright? I asked myself. Everyone knew the camera added at least ten pounds, but with all these lights, I had a feeling it was going to feel more like twenty. Oh well. Let them judge. I had nothing to prove to people who didn’t matter or mean anything to me.
Standing in front of Ivan with my hands still on my robe, ready, I asked him, “You’re good to go?”
Already in the zone, he nodded.
It was time to party, I guess.
Undoing the knot at my waist, I got myself under control, scrounged up every ounce of my confidence and dignity and reminded myself that no body was perfect, and hopefully they’d Photoshop the shit out of anything that didn’t look right even though they probably wouldn’t since the issue was called The Anatomy Issue to begin with. But fuck it. If people wanted to point out a roll if I was bent over, go for it. I’d grown up around three of the most beautiful women in the world. I’d accepted a long time ago that I wasn’t one of them, and that was okay.
And then I took my robe off.
No one had said anything, but I’d put white cloth tape directly over my nipples, leaving the rest of me free. I mean, they couldn’t post pictures of me totally topless, so I hadn’t seen what the big deal would be. My bare butt and vagina, I couldn’t care less about. We’d all come out of one.
I could do this. I really could.
And then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw the movement of another robe being taken off and handed over, a flash of skin and more skin, just a second before a hand was outstretched to take mine.
Time to get it over with, I thought to myself, and turned around to face Ivan for the first time, maybe, kind of, holding my breath. I raised my eyebrows up at him the second my eyes met his, hoping to God I hadn’t suddenly decided to start blushing for the first time in my life, because that would make this real humiliating.
“Fuck,” I heard Ivan mutter under his breath as I looked at his face… only to find that his eyes were squeezed closed.
“What?” I snapped.
“Nothing,” he snapped back immediately.
“What?” I insisted, trying to figure out why his skin had gotten even paler… and why he wasn’t looking at me.
“Nothing,” he replied, sounding just like the Ivan I knew: a pain in the ass. He shook his head and swallowed. “Let’s get this over with.”
“Get it over with?” I asked, not feeling at all insulted. Maybe he was the one regretting it now. Oh fucking well. “You’re the one who wanted to do it,” I reminded him.
“Well, I’m starting to think it was a shitty idea, so let’s get it done,” he muttered, eyes still closed.
“Prude,” I whispered, not getting why he wasn’t looking at my face at the very least. He was beginning to make me feel like there was something wrong with me.
So I looked at him. Because he was there.
And I suddenly began regretting doing this again.
Because Ivan’s body…
Fuck.
Maybe because I was an athlete—regardless of what other people stupidly thought—I could appreciate all the different forms male athletes held. I’d never been a big fan of male models with their perfectly sculpted tiny muscles that had to be worked on regularly, one at a time. I liked raw strength in all its shapes. I really did.
But Ivan’s in particular had been basically painted by a master. The caps of muscle at his shoulders were drawn by pen, the lean, rigid muscles of his forearms and biceps were strong. Then there were his firm pectorals, the flat abs with eight small square shapes at them. The detailed muscles at his hips from all his lifting, and the long, lines of muscle striations at his thighs and calves.
I didn’t need to look at his ass to know that it was high and tight.
And I’d be a fucking liar if I said I hadn’t glanced at his penis, but like me, he’d decided to cover something. That something was hidden by what looked like a nude-colored sock that covered his junk, leaving only trimmed hairs at his groin there.
I wasn’t going to bend down to see if I could see his balls.
I glanced all over Ivan again and barely held back a head shake. He was seriously a work of perfection. Honestly. Truly.
But I would die before I told him that, so I needed to stop thinking about it. We needed to get this shit over with.
“Come on then, shy boy, before your balls start receding back into your body too,” I told him.
That had him snapping his eyes open to glare at me, his face scrunched up. “Hopefully my hand doesn’t slip.”
“Hopefully I don’t lose my balance and my foot goes up your ass—”
“Okay! All right! Let’s start you two,” Coach Lee hollered, and I didn’t need to look at her to know she was shaking her head.
I blinked at Ivan, as I stood there fucking naked and said, “Come on, Socks. Let’s do this. Maybe we’ll end up on the cover.” And I felt zero nausea or worry as I said it.
Chapter 11
I should have known something was going on when I got home that evening and found my mom in the kitchen, a plate of food sitting in front of the stool I usually sat at, waiting for me. She hadn’t served me dinner in years. I couldn’t actually remember if she had ever prepared any of us plates in advance… with the exception of Ruby. It was usually a free-for-all. Mom always said she wasn’t our maid, and that we should be grateful she cooked to begin with.
So, I should have known something was up. The problem was that I was exhausted following the photo shoot that took all damn morning. Don’t smile. Look natural. Do that pose again. Can you hold it a little longer? Hold your leg in this awkward, unnatural position for one more minute. Stand there and freeze your ass off. Tilt your head this way—no the other way—and hold it there. Ivan, put your freezing fucking hands on Jasmine’s body and hold them there for two minutes.
Fuck, fuck, and double fuck.
He didn’t laugh every time he touched me, and I’d have to suck in a breath because it hurt, but I knew he wanted to.
My nipples were still hard from being on the ice, covered with only the tiniest pieces of tape, and I was pretty sure my vagina was never going to be warm again. My clit had probably turned into a raisin. I hadn’t even glanced at the sock covering Ivan’s dick after the first time because it had been cold as hell. I wasn’t going to judge a man for what his junk looked like in the cold.
Plus, there had been other things to look at.
Everything north of the Equator and everything south of the Equator. Muscles, muscles, and more beautifully carved muscles. It wasn’t exactly difficult, even though every time his hands touched me, I wanted to punch him in the gut.
And once, I’d accidentally caught a glimpse of huge balls dangling between his legs that had for one second, made me wonder what the hell he did with those things in his costumes.
But it was none of my business, so I’d shoved that question aside for later.