This book blends together all the elements that make this series so readable. A woman who’s conflicted between her desires and a blackmailer’s demands. The Meagan Bishop who we’ve met as Abby’s boss is very different from the true woman revealed here. Can she reach out and grasp all she desires and hold on to it?
Summary:
She’s ready for her close-up. . . .
Meagan Bishop gave up modeling after an ill-fated tryst with a sexy photographer left her career and heart in shambles. When that same sexy shutterbug makes a titillating offer to do a BDSM spread for his new photography book, she’s determined to refuse—until an anonymous blackmailer entices her to accept. Now her body is again at the whim of the man who broke her heart, and she’s finding his strong direction undeniably intriguing. . . .
Meagan is the muse Luke needs to make his shoot something special, even if it means keeping his hands off her. But each new erotic scene they capture makes it harder to ignore his need to command her in the bedroom as well as in the studio.
As their sexual tension explodes, Meagan’s arrangement with her extortionist becomes more perilous, putting in danger her darkest secrets and the fragile passion between Luke and her. . . .
Moving quickly, Meagan splashed water on her face and then applied light makeup, doing her best to ignore the way her hands trembled. Stupid nerves. She decided to leave her hair down, but brushed it until it snapped with electricity and fell softly around her shoulders. Something about the process of getting ready for Luke to photograph her, reminded her of getting ready for a scene with a Dom and the ritual of it eased her anxiety, leaving only excitement behind. By the time she slipped the short lacy gown over her head and stepped into the tiny panties, she felt calmer.
In fact, she was so calm, so prepared, and so ready, she had to stop herself from kneeling in front of Luke when she made it back to the studio. As it was, it felt as if he’d turned the heat up fifteen degrees.
She was certain he noticed, but he simply nodded. “You look perfect, Meagan.” He pointed to a wrought iron bench. “Go have a seat and we’ll get started.”
The cool metal soothed her heated flesh and she had only a moment to take a deep breath before she heard his footsteps. He didn’t give her instructions on how he wanted her to pose; he simply moved her himself. Within a few minutes, she was sitting straight on the bench, her hands folded in her lap, and her head bowed.
“Close your eyes.” His whisper was rough, but his hands were gentle as he swept her hair to one side so it fell across her right shoulder. “That color looks magnificent on you. Just like I thought it would.”
Her heart jumped up to her throat. Did that mean he’d bought it for her?
“So many people think of black when they think of lingerie and I agree, it has its place.” He trailed a finger along the lace skimming her breasts. “But I like this hue. The palest pink. Just a shade different from your skin. An alluring combination of innocence and seduction.”
He stepped away from her and she wondered if he was picking up his camera.
“It’s not the gown itself, of course,” he spoke and she couldn’t hear anything from the camera. “That color could wash some women out or make others look too young. But on you, it’s almost regal.”
Surely he was taking pictures, she couldn’t imagine him standing there just talking. Not when he had photos to take. But damn it all, she didn’t recall him talking when he’d photographed her before. Back then, he’d been like your standard photographer—directing and shooting. The man he was now. . . .
She’d vastly underestimated both him and his ability to affect her. And she had a feeling that was a big mistake on her part.
“I’m going to print these in both color and black and white.” He kept on talking as though he was having an everyday conversation. “I bet in black and white you’ll have to look really close to see what’s skin and what’s silk.”
