I swallowed because part of me already knew I should have talked the shoot over with Soren. Not because I felt like I needed his approval or because he was the type who felt like he needed to give it, but out of respect for him.
He stared at the last two pages of the spread for another minute before setting the magazine on the table. He didn’t put it face down though; he left it open. His eyes moved between the flowers and the magazine, emotions warring on his face.
“Congratulations.” He found a smile as he hooked an arm around me and pulled me to him. “A ten-page, and believe me, I counted three times, spread in French Vogue.”
“You say that like you know all about French Vogue.”
“I might not be a member of that five percent male demographic, but I’ve learned enough from you to know a major model moment when I see one.” His lips pressed into my forehead, but they felt a little stiff. Forced. “I’m proud of you.”
I breathed in the scent of him. The heady aroma of sweat, man, and sex. “You looked like you were about to rush to every magazine stand in the world and pull all the French Vogue from the shelves.” I inhaled him again, my hands gripping him tighter. “You don’t have to pretend to like everything I do. You don’t have to ever pretend with me.”
He shifted against me. “I’m not going to tell you not to pose naked again—that’s not the guy I am, and you’re not the woman who’d let herself be told by a guy what to do either—but I don’t have to like that anyone on the planet can turn to page forty-three and see my girl without her clothes on.”
We both seemed to relax after he voiced what he had. His arms hung more naturally around me. Mine felt more secure around him.
“It’s not like I’m full-frontal and spread eagle.” I prodded him.
The last lines bled from his face before he stepped back so he could motion at me standing in front of him. “This should be, like, proprietary or something.”
If he hadn’t been fighting a smile, that would have earned him a glare or a box of magazines sailing his direction.
“Proprietary?” I repeated, trying to keep a stern face.
His eyes wandered over my naked body as he nodded the entire time. “Seemed better than saying mine.” His eyes flashed when they met mine. “Less uncivilized.”
“Uncivilized? You?” I didn’t temper the sarcasm in my voice. “Never.”
“I’ll show you uncivilized,” he said, palming his erection straining through his sweats. Just as I took the first step toward him, eager to pick up where we’d left off at “fourth time’s just for fun,” he cleared his throat. “Right after you try to explain to me why your agent sent you flowers, red roses, the very same day you made it home to your boyfriend at the very address you live at with him.”
This conversation was not going to end well. No matter how I answered, it wouldn’t change the conclusion he’d arrived at.
“Because he’s my agent? Because he wanted to say congrats for my first big spread in the most iconic fashion magazine in the world?”
The veins in his forearms were showing through his skin. They did that whenever we got into an argument or Ellis was the topic of conversation. “Why the question mark in your answer?”
“For the same reason there was an exclamation mark in your accusation,” I fired right back. “Because this is an argument neither of us is going to win.”
Soren’s hands secured at his hips, his neck rolling. “He needs to back off. He needs to back the fuck off before I make him.”
My arms lifted at my sides. “He’s my agent. The one who’s done really big things for my career. How am I supposed to get him to ‘back off’?”
“There’s a difference between having a professional relationship and some man twice your age sending flowers to your apartment with some note that doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination of what ‘bigger and better things’ are.” My face must have looked blank because Soren blinked. “Him. He’s waiting for you to move on to bigger and better him. Waiting for you to leave small, insignificant me.”
“You’re being insane. These are congratulations flowers.”
“They’re foreplay flowers. So when you run to him like he’s planning, you’re going to run straight into his bed. Also what he has planned.”
“Disgusting. Stop it.”
“Why else does an old skuzzy dude with his reputation send a young, na?ve girl flowers?”
My back tensed. “I’m not na?ve.”
“You’re proving you are right this minute by pretending these flowers and everything he’s done to try to come between us isn’t because his endgame is winding up between your thighs.”
His words sent me staggering back like they’d shoved me. “You’re jealous.” My lip quivered. “Stop taking your insecurity out on me.”
Soren’s jaw moved beneath his skin. “This isn’t jealousy. This is concern. This is me wanting to protect you.”
My lip wobbled again as my eyes cast down. I knew that. God, I knew that, because he was good and selfless and didn’t deserve this.
“I’m not jealous of him,” he said, his finger stabbing toward the ground with each word. “If you were with him, then I’d be jealous of him. I don’t trust him. I wouldn’t trust him with a houseplant, let alone the woman I love. That’s how I feel about him.”
If I bit into my lip any harder, I was going to draw blood. My palms already felt like I’d broken the skin from the way my nails were digging into them. “You haven’t heard me tell you that one girl you’re always hanging around needs to back off, have you?”
Soren’s brows came together. “What girl are you talking about? The only girl I’m always hanging around is you.”
“We hardly see each other anymore.” My voice was louder than I’d intended.
“Exactly.” He motioned at me backing into the wall away from him. “You’re still the only girl I’m hanging around.”
My nails dug deeper into my palms as her name rose in my throat. “Alex. Your lab partner. The team’s water girl, doctor, physical therapist, star-player blow-job bestower.”
Soren backed up a step. “What did you just say?” The way he was looking at me was new. Like he didn’t recognize me.
The storm inside me wouldn’t quiet though. “Just because it hasn’t happened doesn’t mean she isn’t ready to do it at the drop of your pants.”
Now his veins were showing through his neck too. He made himself take a couple more steps back. “And I’m supposed to be the jealous one?”
I bit back what poured onto my tongue. That would have been useful a handful of sentences ago. “I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m being petty and immature. I don’t know what I’m saying right now.” Moving around the apartment, I started to gather up my clothes. “I need some fresh air. Alone. To clear my head.”
As I started for the bathroom, Soren broke in front of me, blocking my path.
“Soren, let me go.”
“No.”
“Soren—”
“Not without a fight.”