Lilac

The only thing that mattered was that I couldn’t breathe. Not while my eyes were on her. I’d never felt this clench in my gut before. It was hot, twisting, and painful.

Demanding.

Braxton’s gaze found mine, and for the first time, she looked unsure. Even when she was afraid, she pretended otherwise. Braxton Fawn was nothing short of a marvel.

And right now, she was waiting for me to say something.

My tongue, unfortunately, had been tied by the vision she made in that damn dress. Her hair had been pinned in a messy knot on top of her head, leaving her neck bare save for the collar around her neck. They’d kept her makeup light, simply enhancing her round eyes, full lips, and long lashes that fooled a sitting duck like me into believing her innocent. Houston and Loren hadn’t caught on yet, but they would. When that time came, Braxton would have a different problem on her hands.

I didn’t realize I was moving until I was standing in front of her. “You look beautiful.”

“You wouldn’t happen to think so because I’m practically naked, would you?”

My eyes widened at that. “Are you uncomfortable? I can see if—” Braxton laid her small hand on my arm before I could finish. The simple touch felt like a brand—like I was already hers.

“It’s fine,” she assured me. “I’ve worn less in front of a lot more.” She smiled, and I had the feeling it was to put me at ease rather than herself. Fuck.

I cleared my throat and looked away to keep from being caught in her trance. The door leading to the alley opened, and fucking Houston stepped through. He didn’t notice me watching him because he was already locked on to Braxton, whose back was to him. I watched as his attention dropped to her ass, his lips moved to form a swear I couldn’t hear, and then he turned and stormed right back out the door.

Loren appeared next, but, of course, he didn’t leave like Houston. He sauntered over until he stood in front of her, and Braxton’s guard immediately rose. For some reason, it filled me with glee, knowing she was more comfortable with me. I could see why as Loren’s dark eyes ran over her, checking her out and offering no apologies for it.

“Looking good, baby fawn.”

“Leave her alone,” I immediately barked before I could stop myself or Braxton could speak for herself. What the hell was I doing?

Loren didn’t even acknowledge me. Reaching out, he fingered the velvet choker around her neck. “Looking damn good.”

“Thanks.”

She was calm—too calm, in my opinion. I wasn’t sure I bought it, but it wasn’t my problem.

Sighing, I stepped away. Braxton had already proved more than once that she could handle herself. She wouldn’t have lasted this long otherwise, and I didn’t need more reason to fight with my best friends. Besides, Braxton had no use for a knight with dented armor. We had two months until the tour, and I didn’t know how, but I’d find a way to shake Braxton from my thoughts.

Houston returned just as Ingrid, the photographer, was ready to start shooting. She directed Braxton to lie on a red chaise that was out of place in the bar despite having seen better days. With the remaining space left, Houston was placed at the end by Braxton’s booted feet. He immediately slouched his frame, resting his arm along the swooped back and getting comfortable against the padded scroll arm. I caught his gaze roving all over Braxton while she was preoccupied adjusting her position to suit Ingrid.

Once her back was arched and her hands braced on the cushion behind her, Loren was directed to stand by Braxton’s head. Ingrid wanted the cocky charm he hardly ever needed a reason to display, so with his thumb touching his lip, he gave her that infamous Loren James grin.

Without direction, having done this dance too many times before, I centered myself behind the chaise, crossing my arms, and letting my hair fall forward.

Smiling in satisfaction, Ingrid immediately returned to her camera and proceeded to take what seemed like a million shots. I sighed on the inside, knowing this was only the first pose. After switching positions on and around the chaise countless times, the last one with Braxton lying on her stomach alone with the three of us standing together behind her, we moved to take shots by the bar.

“Doing okay?” I asked Braxton as we waited for Ingrid and her team to adjust the lighting and switch cameras. It was all I could do not to touch her exposed thigh resting near my forearm as she sat on the bar. That fucking dress was so short that I’d caught more than one glimpse of the matching panties she wore underneath. I was surprised the stylist had even bothered.