“Have you ever modelled before?” he asked, curious.

“Nope. First time,” I replied, and pulled off my T-shirt, trying to ignore the way my skin tingled to have him so close as I undressed.

“You’re a photo shoot virgin,” he continued, a smile in his voice.

“Ah, I gave you that one too easy,” I said, grinning and slipping off my leggings and boots. I turned to pick up the outfit Bradley had given me. It consisted of a tight black sleeveless dress with a sweetheart neckline, sheer tights, and a pair of bright red four-inch heels. I had a bit of trouble fitting my boobs into the dress, since the fabric didn’t have any give whatsoever. Standing in front of a full-length mirror, I tried some manoeuvring, letting out a quiet grunt. Ugh, I thought these clothes were supposed to be plus-sized. I felt as though I’d been sewn into the thing, like Sandy D and her slinky black pants.

“Need some help?” King asked, his voice a reminder that he was close by.

“Um,” I said, “could you go get Bradley?”

Before I knew it, King had come behind the screen, and I heard him inhale a sharp breath when he saw me. Again, I tried to deflect the tension with humour. “Looks like I’ve been eating too many of the old onion bhajis. This dress is way too tight.”

King stepped forward, and almost of its own accord his hand went to my nape before running down the length of my spine. My breathing hitched.

“No,” he murmured. “It’s perfect.”

“King.”

“Yes, Alexis?”

“That’s enough touching.”

His hand paused when it landed just above my bottom. He ignored my comment and asked, “What did you want Bradley for?”

I turned around, breaking the contact, and gestured to my chest region. “The girls can’t breathe in this infernal contraption.”

King laughed tenderly. “Well, they look fantastic.”

I scowled at him. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m sorry,” he said and took a step closer, his voice lowering. “What can I do to help?” His eyes were nowhere near my face. No, they were glued to my heaving bosom.

“You can stop ogling me, for a start.”

“Sorry. Can’t do that. Anyway, why do you care?” He tilted his head and arched a brow.

His question riled me. “Misogyny. That’s why I care.” Oh, God, I was officially grasping at straws. “All you men are interested in is boobs and bums.”

King stepped forward again, and now he had me backed into a corner. “You forgot the third b-word.”

“What?”

“Brains.”

I snorted.

“Don’t believe me?”

“Coming from the man who gave me an interview based on my looks.” I glanced away, already sensing this was an argument I wasn’t going to win.

“Ah, but I gave you the job based on your quick wit. And I’ve already told you how intelligent I think you are.”

“Why are you trying to butter me up?” I asked suspiciously. His chest was dangerously close to brushing up against mine.

“That’s not what I’m doing.” A pause, followed by a thoughtful expression. “Can I ask a question?”

I hesitated a second. “Sure.”

Now he closed the remaining distance between us. His breath hot and humid on my cheeks when he whispered, “Have you ever had a cock before?”

My heart stuttered as I swallowed, unable to meet his gaze. He continued talking. “You should try one, just to make sure. Who knows — you might even like it.”

I still couldn’t look at him, and a heavy silence fell between us. My head swam with visions of him prying my legs apart and ramming himself deep inside me. My knees grew weak at the thought. His voice sounded different when he finally said, “Alexis, are you…?”

“Lexie, you’re up,” Bradley called, interrupting whatever King had been about to say. Acting on instinct, I slid away from him and hurried to Bradley, needing an escape. I went and stood with the rest of the models who were awaiting direction. Giving my appearance one last look in a full-length mirror, I tried to summon some calm. Oh, King had been right — my boobs did look fantastic, even if they were being suffocated half to death. The cut of the dress and the push-up bra I was given worked wonders together.

I was being led over to the set to stand next to two redheads when I caught sight of King again. He was standing discreetly in the background, taking in the activity, but when his gaze caught on mine, it scorched. He was staring in the region of my cleavage like he’d just spotted the Holy Grail.

God, boys. So easily distracted by a pair of tits. Perhaps they also caused momentary insanity, and that was the reason for the way he spoke to me.

For the first half-hour of the shoot, Bradley focused on group shots. I enjoyed watching him work, because he got all serious and no-nonsense. He still kept his sense of humour, though, and I chuckled when he began trying to explain to a model the difference between fierce and smouldering.

“To smoulder, you combine a subtle pout with a slit gaze. To look fierce, you need to put your hands on your hips and stare at me like you want to fuck me and be the one on top.”

I wasn’t sure which was funnier, the look of shock on the model’s face or the idea of Bradley letting a woman ride him. He caught me snickering and gave me a playful scowl before he was back behind the camera, snapping shots and shouting orders at people. Two outfit changes later, I caught sight of King again. I was kind of surprised he was still there, because even if there were attractive woman all about, this couldn’t have been much fun for him.