exact shot on every Steffany & Co. billboard and magazine advertisement this holiday season.”
With that, he tosses the camera to Malia and starts waving his arms around.
“I’m calling it a wrap, everyone! Let’s pack it in.”
As the lamb is taken back to its mother, the stylist comes over and starts sliding bracelets off my wrist, unclasping chains from my neck. I hear the unmistakable pop of a cork. Seconds later, Luka is at my side pressing a flute of champagne into my hands, the crew cheering and toasting us even as they pack up. What a blast. The shoot couldn’t have been any more amazing.
I lean into my husband and whisper in his ear. “Thank you for today.”
“It was my pleasure,” Luka says, tracing the line of my earlobe again. That’s when I realize I’m still wearing the diamond earrings. My heart flutters.
“Oh! Becca forgot to take the earrings back,” I say, looking around for the stylist.
Luka takes my chin in his hand and gently turns my face toward him.
“They’re yours now,” he says. “They looked so perfect on you, I had to buy them.”
It’s silly how moved I am by this, but for a moment I’m speechless. “I can’t believe you bought these for me,” I finally murmur. “I’m…so grateful.”
“You can show me how grateful you are later, when you’re wearing them,” he says, his voice going husky with desire, “and nothing else.”
Luka
Chapter 21
She listens so well.
I unbutton my jeans as I stride into the bedroom, where Brooklyn waits for me on the bed. She’s splayed out naked on top of the crisp white comforter, her dark hair spilled across the pillows, her olive skin a striking contrast to the fabric beneath her perfect body. And those earrings. They glitter against the warmth of her golden skin, making her look like a goddess.
Damn. Money well spent.
The curtains are open to the view of the quaint village shops and streetlamps below, pinpoints of light that glow softly in the darkness against distant, snow-covered mountain peaks. The mild daytime temps have dropped down to the 40s now, but inside, it’s warm and cozy…and about to get a lot hotter.
My wife smiles as I shed my shirt and jeans. My cock is already rock hard and ready, but I’m going to make her wait. I’m going to make us both wait.
I don’t know what happened up on the mountain over the last few hours, but seeing Brooklyn so totally at ease and yet so confident and in control throughout the shoot—it did something to me. Broke through the last of my walls. She was just…perfect. Perfect for me.
She’d been professional but playful about climbing the mountain path, reclining in the snow, posing in the canoe with one oar dipped in the water as if she was actually about to paddle across the lake. It was obvious she was having fun. In fact, it took everything I had not to jump in and join her, and I could tell by the reactions of the photographer and the crew that her magnetism was affecting more than just me. Every pair of eyes was glued to my wife.
And then when Brooklyn gave that full-throated laugh over the misbehaving lamb in her arms, and Remi snapped the money shot, it suddenly hit me: my wife had finally come into her own. She exuded that mix of charisma and je ne sais quoi star quality that celebrities spend their whole careers trying to achieve. All because I’d stepped back, trusted her, and let her shine.
She must have felt something different in the air, too. She kept looking at me with a glint in her eye, as if she were feeling the same contagious good vibes that I was. I couldn’t stop thinking about how lucky I am to have her in my life. Now that we’re alone, I’m going to show her exactly how I feel.
“Long day?” I ask, stepping toward her.
“Mmm,” she purrs. “But it’s not over yet. Why don’t you have a seat, Mr. Zoric?”
She pats the bed beside her. I grip my cock and give it a long stroke with one hand while pointing at the mattress with the other. “Right here, Mrs. Zoric?”
“Yes, please.”
I sit next to her and then roll over so we’re lying face-to-face. I prop up on one elbow to take in the sight of her body, drawing in a long breath. She bats her lashes playfully.
“You’re admiring my earrings, aren’t you?”
“Actually, I was admiring your tits. But the earrings