eyes. “I maybe, kinda, sorta forgot to tell you about the photo shoot I have scheduled this evening.”
“Say what now?” I asked. Already on alert, her odd behavior did nothing but increase the tension.
“Um, well, I-I,” she stammered.
“She scheduled a boudoir-type photo shoot after the event, and she’s embarrassed to tell you,” Frankie blurted. I liked her, and the way she said what needed to be said, even if Sloane didn’t want to say it.
I grinned devilishly. “Oh, this is going to be fun.”
“No! You can’t come!” Sloane all but shrieked.
Moving closer, I pulled her to me. “That’s what you’ll be saying if you try to stop me.”
“Fine, you can come,” she muttered and placed a kiss on my cheek. “But, I really do need to get packed up, so I have time to shower and redo my hair before my session.”
“You’re still not going by yourself. Not after everything you told me this morning.”
“I wasn’t going to go by myself. Frankie’s coming with me.”
Frankie smiled. “He can come with me and Brat.”
“How’s that going to work?” Sloane asked and arched a brow. “You won’t be able to keep that hog from humping his leg.”
“Ah, shit! You’re right. I’ll be right back,” Frankie said and darted across the aisle to another table.
“What’s she doing?”
Sloane shrugged. “Probably going to see if Suzanne will watch Brat so you can come to the shoot with us.”
“Does she need to go if I’m going?”
Sloane laughed. “Yes, she does. She has her own session booked after mine.” I stared at her blankly and waited for more. “Oh,” she said, finally realizing the issue. “Frankie’s having some shots taken for her website and updating her headshots. She won’t care if you’re there.”
“Suzanne and her husbutt are going to watch the ham!” Frankie announced in delight.
I cleared my throat. “Why didn’t you leave the pig at home?”
“Oh, one second, please,” she said and reached for her phone. “Let me show you what happens when an angry pig has a temper tantrum.”
I scrolled through pictures of various degrees of destruction—including chewed up carpet, a destroyed laundry basket, and something that looked like an explosion of glitter. Shaking my head, I handed the phone back to her. “Enough said.”
We arrived a few minutes early for Sloane’s appointment, which turned out to be a good thing because my presence changed the entire session.
“Sloane! It’s so good to see you!” a woman greeted when we entered the room. When her eyes landed on me, she froze. “I didn’t know you were bringing a model.”
“Oh, he’s not a model. Amy, this is Bronze, my friend, and he’s my security detail today. Bronze, this is Amy, the photographer,” she introduced.
“Ain’t your fucking friend,” I rumbled against the top of her head while I pinched her ass cheek—hard—since I knew she wouldn’t appreciate me slapping it in front of her colleagues.
Amy studied me for several long beats before she turned to Sloane and mumbled something I couldn’t clearly hear. Sloane’s reply was even harder to make out, but I felt the need to intervene when she started shaking her head, clearly disagreeing with Amy. “What’s going on, Sloane?”
She turned to me with a smile on her face. “Everything’s fine. We were just discussing the plans before we begin.” Directing her attention to Amy, she added, “I’ll go ahead and get changed so we can get started.”
With that, Sloane took my hand and led me to the bathroom. Or so I thought. “What kind of bathroom is this?”
Sloane giggled. “We’re in the dressing room where the bride and bridesmaids get ready for the wedding. Amy likes to reserve bridal suites for these kinds of sessions,” she explained.
“What kind of sessions?”
“Boudoir,” she mumbled and focused on digging through her bag of outfits. “I’ll be right back,” she announced, holding up a wad of clothing.
Boudoir. It didn’t register to me what she meant. Not when she emerged from the bathroom with a robe wrapped around her. Not when she walked into the other room and stopped beside the bed.
No, it was when she turned to the camera and dropped her robe to the floor, revealing her lingerie-clad body. She was standing there looking like the ultimate sex goddess in a black bra and matching G-string framed by a garter belt and thigh-high stockings.
Pressing the palm of my hand against my dick, I stifled a groan when my eyes landed on the strappy stilettos adorning her feet. But that was the last semblance of control I had.
Ripping my