Melt Me (Body Scenes 2)

But Yvette had yet to acquiesce to Finn’s dozens of requests to let him paint her. She’d been waiting for that one special idea, that flash of inspiration that would capture her in a unique way. For Yvette, body paint wasn’t it.

Not that she didn’t find the pieces brilliant. She just wanted something different. Something that portrayed her true spirit, the essence of who she really was. Perhaps it was an intentional challenge she’d issued for Finn.

As she watched him now, moving with stealthy fluidity that screamed cocksure arrogance and bad-boy wickedness, anticipation of exciting things to come—hopefully her!—zinged through her. He dragged her coffee table farther away from the sofa and carefully placed his shoulder bag on it. Quickly removing two cameras, he outfitted both of them, then played around with the lighting in the room before using the digital single lens reflex camera to take several test shots.

Yvette’s curiosity mounted. What was he up to?

Finally, he grabbed her by the hand and directed her to the sofa, where she sat still while he took more test shots with the DSLR. When he stepped back and viewed the shots on the miniature screen on the camera, he nodded, then shook his head, then nodded again.

Yvette said, “If you tell me I look like a whale on film, I’m going to kick your sorry ass right out of my condo.”

He lifted his gaze and grinned. “Live solely off fast food for a year and then you might have a problem.” He eyed her body in a slow, appreciative way, his eyes lingering on her breasts, the tops of which spilled out of her demi bra. “Trust me, you’re a knockout, doll. The problem is the lighting. Not exactly optimal, but this photo shoot is just so you don’t have to pose for hours on end.”

“That’s good news. You know I have the attention span of a gnat. Plus, I’ve got three columns and six blogs due this week.” She’d carved out a nice little niche for herself both in print and on the Internet as an avant-garde art and food expert. Another reason she and Finn had likely never hooked up. She was too busy playing Queen of the Mountain, with an endless stream of competition trying to knock her off the top.

“Despite the lighting, this room will do nicely,” he commented as he eyed the sofa with the cream-colored sheet draped sloppily over it, creating ripples of satin amidst a sea of purple velvet. “Your setup is perfect.”

“Just trying to chill out,” she said. Dying to know what was in the ice chest, she added, “What, exactly, do you have in mind for this evening and what makes you think I’m going to go along with it?”

Finn set aside his camera. He plunged his hands in the front pockets of his black-as-night jeans and gave her a coy smile, his dark brows lifting suggestively. “Because you like being naughty.”

Her teeth clamped down on her lower lip as excitement shot through her again. Her nipples were already hard. They seemed to get harder. Tightening in an almost unbearable way. Drawing her attention to them, along with their need to be rolled between his fingers and thumbs. Suckled in his mouth. Flicked by his tongue. Scraped gently by his teeth.

A prickle of arousal danced along her clit as she lifted her gaze and asked, “You really think you know what I like?”

“Oh yeah.” He kept his hands in his pockets. Didn’t move an inch. Just eyed her with a sinfully hot look that made her pulse jump. “I was sitting at home the other day, trying to sketch out a new body art mural, but all I could think about was you. Sweaty and slick from this ridiculous heat wave we’re having. And then it hit me. The perfect thing to cool you down while heating up my canvases.”

She squirmed a little on the plump cushion, her arousal making her a bit uncomfortable. In a good way, of course. Anticipation mingled with a need that had been burning bright for years, since the first day she’d met Finn Griffith. Would it finally be sated tonight?

Yvette said, “If this involves putting my clothes back on, you can forget it.”

He laughed. “No, doll. I need you just like that.”

“Hmm. Fortuitous.”

“You said it. Now here’s what I’m thinking. Four scenes—I’ve already figured out the poses for each one. I know you used to model so this should be a breeze for you.”

“It’s been awhile, Finn,” she said, not exactly thrilled to admit she was thirty-one, not twenty-one. Even if she was only admitting it to herself.

He scoffed. “I’ve watched you in the club, Yvette. You’re a natural. You probably pose in your sleep.”

She couldn’t argue with that one. It was likely true. “So what’s in it for me? You get a model and more artwork to sell at Body Scenes. What do I get out of this?” She knew exactly what she wanted and wouldn’t settle for anything less. Not tonight.

She wanted Finn. Finally stripping down with her. Touching her naked body with his mouth and hands. Sliding his thick cock into her wet cunt, thrusting deep, fucking her hard.

It was all she could do to keep from begging for it.

She’d only been teasing when she’d claimed dicks were a dime a dozen in this town. In her opinion, there weren’t any attached to such a devilishly handsome man. And she no longer considered it too hot to fuck. She had no qualms about steaming up the windows with Finn! Had to fan herself with her hand, in fact, as her cheeks flushed at how badly she wanted it. Wanted him.

He said, “Given your current predicament, how about I put you up at the Ritz Carlton ’til your cooler is fixed? You can turn the air on so high, you’ll need to light a fire in the fireplace to take off the chill. Unl

imited champagne, strawberries and room service. Knock your socks off, babe.”

A tempting offer. But Yvette could afford all of that on her own. “Hardly incentive.”

Finn grinned. “I’ll be there with you.” His brows lifted again as he said, “With a box of condoms.”

“Oh,” she said on a lusty sigh. “That’s a horse of a different color.”