Test Shot (8 page)

“It’s okay.” She smiled, and something coiled tight in his stomach. And that something had Layla’s name all over it. “You’re sweet, Sawyer.”

“Not that sweet,” he muttered, his ears heating uncomfortably.

“Yes, you are. What else?”

He frowned. Was it wrong to say he didn’t have many limits? At least that he knew of?

“All positions are fine, and toys are okay. More than okay.” He looked back and forth between Layla and Aidan. “DP works for me too, but I’m not into guys. I mean, it’s fine if we’re both naked, obviously, but that’s all.” He cast an apologetic look at Layla. “Sorry if that’s a problem.”

Aidan shrugged. “This is about the two of you, not me. If I participate, it’ll only be peripherally.”

“Oh.” It was Sawyer’s turn to shrug. “Whatever turns you on.”

“What turns me on is for you to give my fiancée pleasure. No more, no less. If you don’t make her come a half-dozen times, I’ll consider this night a dismal failure.” Aidan rose and smiled at Layla first, then Sawyer. “Dinner must be ready by now. Let’s eat.”

Sawyer hung back until Aidan had left the room, then snagged Layla’s hand before she could follow him. “Hey. Wait.”

“Second thoughts already?”

“I can almost see your ass, so that’s a definite no.” She yanked on her dress, and he laughed. “I just want to make sure you’re really all right with this. He’s rather dominant, isn’t he?”

Watching her expression soften like melted butter did the oddest things to his already strained stomach muscles. If a woman had ever affected him so bafflingly before, he didn’t remember. “Yes, but he’s not overbearing in a way I don’t want. He knows me better than I know myself. And vice versa too, I hope.”

Hesitation lurked in her voice. Whether it was because of their upcoming peripheral-threesome or because she doubted that her husband-to-be viewed her the same way she viewed him, he didn’t know.

“So you’re fine with sleeping with me while he strokes one off a few feet away?”

She laughed girlishly, and the sound positively enchanted him. Now that he knew she was a Nebraska girl, he was halfway in love, and he hadn’t even seen her breasts yet.

Careful, Blake. You’re treading on treacherous ground.

“You’re the one who doesn’t want to see his cock,” she teased.

“Nah. I couldn’t care less about his junk. I’ll be looking only at you.” He tugged her closer and cradled her velvety cheek. “I want you to know I’m honored you chose me. And you can trust me, Layla, with everything. I’ll never tell a soul what happens within these four walls.”

“Sweet,” she murmured again after a moment, leaning up to kiss him gently. Though their lips barely brushed, the gesture rocked him right down to his toes. “I swear, I normally don’t use a casting couch to hire my talent. I’ve never done anything like this before. Ever.”

He cocked his head, grinning. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-seven. My birthday was last month. You?”

“Twenty-five. Just turned in June. So you have a casting couch
and
you’re an older woman.” He rubbed his fingers over her lips and imagined the taste he’d sampled earlier. He wanted more. Would have more before the night was through. “I think I’m developing a fondness for cougars.”

“Not so sweet.” But her eyes danced.

“Told you.” He tipped up her chin and fought the urge to pull her in for a hug. Something about her drew him in like a song in the night, one he could barely hear but somehow knew the words to. She looked a little lost, a lot sexy. The combination was exactly what he’d been searching for without realizing it.

And she was taken. On the verge of getting married. His luck.

“I forgot to ask your limits,” he said when his voice returned.

“Just be careful.”

“No rough stuff. Got it.”

“No. Rough’s fine.” She laced her fingers with his and brought them to her mouth, meeting his gaze over their knuckles. “Being careful isn’t the same as being gentle.” She eased back, smiled. “Come on, Sawyer Blake. It’s dinnertime.”

* * * *

Layla scraped her fork along the inside of her baked potato, her mind a million miles away. How strange to eat dinner so civilly in the dining room when they planned to end the evening naked.

Not that the guys appeared to have any difficulty with it. They’d chatted easily throughout the meal about a wide range of subjects. Sports earned the bulk of the conversational time. Sawyer preferred the Marlins because he’d attended college for two semesters in Florida. Aidan commented on his love of the Bears. She didn’t have a team because she didn’t care about sports and didn’t care if that meant she wasn’t an evolved female.

“What’s your family like?” she asked, reaching for more butter.

“Well, my older sister Patty’s an oncologist. She also participates in triathlons and—” Aidan stopped at Layla’s eye roll. “What?”

“Not you, smart-ass. Sawyer.”

“Sorry.” Aidan tried to hide his smile behind his napkin.

Sawyer reached for another roll. He’d gone through two of them so far. Where he put all those carbs, she had no clue. “Small family. My mom raised me, and my little sister, Colleen, on what she made as a secretary until her back gave out and she had to go on disability. I dropped out of college and started working construction not long after. Then Colleen got married and had a baby. Husband left, Colleen and Max moved in with Mom.”

“What about your dad? Any grandparents?”

“Dad’s remarried with a new family. Don’t talk to him or his side of the family. Mom’s parents died years ago.” He shrugged again and forked up green beans. For a big, hardy guy, he seemed to like his veggies well enough. “It’s always been my mom, my sister, and me. We’re pretty tight.”

Sounded like the antithesis of Aidan’s family, she mused, picking up her glass of water. They had the intact nuclear unit, but she’d always believed Aidan’s parents had married for appearances more than love. Aidan barely talked to his sister except at holidays.

Her family was different. Her brothers were her best friends. She adored her parents and loved that they still treated each other like high school crushes rather than as people who’d been married thirty-plus years. Being so far away from them was beyond difficult, and no amount of phone calls or e-mails alleviated the pain.

“You must miss them.” She rested her cheek on her fist. Sawyer would understand how she felt, she just knew it. Not just empathize as Aidan did.

Sawyer looked up from buttering his roll. “Every hour.” His quick smile didn’t lighten the heaviness in his eyes. “But here, I can do some good for them. I can make some decent money and send it back home. And thanks to you, I might make a lot more.” He toasted her with his roll and bit in.

She caught Aidan’s glance across the table and sat back in her chair. All of a sudden, her dinner weighed like a boulder in her stomach, though she hadn’t eaten much.

“Now you’ve done it. You’ve made Layla feel even guiltier than she did before.”

“Why should you feel guilty?”

“Why?” She gaped at Sawyer. “You contacted me for work, and now you’re here eating our steak and beans so we can fuck you later.”

Aidan cocked a brow. “Careful with the
we
’s, darling.”

A smile crept around Sawyer’s mouth. “Bonus round, far as I’m concerned.”

“It won’t have anything to do with Hot Shots. You can still deal with any of the agents you’d like, and I’ll stay out of it.” She leaned forward until Sawyer met her gaze. “Everything can still proceed as planned, if you decide to sign with us. It’ll all stay way above board, I promise.”

“Layla, I love you, but Christ, you’re clueless when it comes to setting a mood.” With a sigh, Aidan rose and tossed his napkin on the table. “I’m going to take a shower. I trust when I return you’ll have settled this once and for all so we can proceed.”

Silence followed his exit.

Layla stared miserably at the hands she’d fisted in her lap. “This feels wrong. I don’t know what we’re doing.”

“What feels wrong? Having me here?”

The gentleness of Sawyer’s tone made her eyes smart. “No. That feels right.” Too right, from where she was sitting. They’d just met, for God’s sake, and she was engaged. But there was no denying the connection she’d found with Sawyer right away. First with his photographs, then with the man himself. “But I don’t want to take advantage of this situation. I’m just afraid of how all this will play out.”

“Do you want me, Layla?”

“Yes.”

“And you know I want you.” He reached across the table and held out his hand, waiting until she gave him hers before continuing. “So damn much.”

“Really?”

“Oh yeah.” The way he licked the inside of his lower lip caused an instant throb between her legs. “But if you’re not ready, if you need some more time to think, we’ll table this for another time. Or never. Your call. And if he can’t deal with that, I’ll tell him to go to hell for you.”

His words ignited her libido in a heartbeat. “How is it that you’re single?”

“Well, let’s see. High school sweetheart broke my heart when she joined the Air Force and said she needed to spread her wings—literally. After we broke up, it was beer and babes for me until I moved here.”

“And since then?”

“More beer. No babes.” He grinned and rubbed her knuckles with his thumb. “Think I’m getting too old for the club crowd. I want to be settled, I guess, and I know the odds that I’ll find the woman for me in a bar is slim.”

Her stomach twisted with an all-new ache. For him, and for herself, though she wasn’t even sure why. “So this is…what, to you?”

“A few hours of enjoyment with a woman I like. And what comes with her.” Another quirk of his lips. “Sounds good to me.”

She swallowed and squeezed his fingers, wanting him to understand that she didn’t do this kind of thing lightly. Needing him to get that. “I wish we could be friends. After. Is that too much to ask?”

“No. I think I’d like to be your friend, Layla Palmer.” He cocked his head. “What’s your middle name?”

“Estelle. My mom’s middle name.”

“Layla Estelle. As feminine as feminine gets. Fits you.”

“What’s yours?”

“Rocky.” He laughed at her expression. “My mom liked the cartoon dog.”

“She must be so proud of you.”

“Considering modeling nude for cash? Oh yeah, I’m sure she’d be overjoyed.” With a final squeeze, he let go of her hand and went back to what was left of his dinner. “But they need the money, and I’m a stubborn son of a bitch. I’ll make it work.”

“Not all of what Hot Shots does requires nudity. We can aim you toward the tamer jobs. Book covers for some of the erotic publishers, for example. A lot can be done with light and shadows.”

“I’ll do what needs to be done if I decide to sign with you guys.”

“Sawyer, if it’s not for you, don’t do it. I’m serious. You need to follow your gut. If it doesn’t feel right, walk away.”

He forked up the last wedge of steak. “Now who’s sweet?”

“Can’t take the Nebraska out of us, I guess.”

“Guess not.” He stared at her, not smiling. Just looking into her, way too deep. “May I make a suggestion?”

“Sure.”

“I’m pretty sure we both need not to think tonight. I bet we can help each other with that.”

“I think you’re right.” She stood and began to clear away Aidan’s dishes. “Finish your dinner,” she said when he rose too.

“It was wonderful, thank you. But any more and you’ll need to roll me out to the street. Besides, I’m ready for wine.” He tucked a loose curl behind her ear. “And you.”

That she didn’t shiver was a miracle. “The wine’s chilling. Go on and get it, and I’ll take care of cleaning up. I’ll meet you in the living room.”

“Uh-huh. I ate; I can help clean up.” He nudged her aside with his hip as he gathered his own dishes. “Goes faster with two, anyway.”

Really fast, she discovered. They sat down in the living room less than ten minutes later. Aidan hadn’t reappeared yet, but she knew it was just a matter of time.

She dragged her fist over her midsection. God, she was nervous.

“We didn’t talk about your limits,” Sawyer said, stretching out his mile-long legs. He’d grabbed a seat on the floor near the fireplace and looked right at home on the thick white carpet. Looked like he could be a damn sexy underwear model, actually.

And she’d be getting to see that underwear—and more—very soon.

“Other than your admonition for me to be careful, which you said didn’t mean to be gentle,” he added, taking a swallow of his wine before setting it on the hearth.

She sipped hers and perched on the edge of the coffee table, careful magazine arrangement be damned. Right now, she had bigger concerns. “I’m okay with most everything.”

“Define most everything. Please.” At her silence, he held up a hand and started ticking items off on his fingers. “All positions? All toys? A little tying up?” His summery blue eyes darkened, and she knew he was getting to the good stuff. “Blowjobs? Anal?”

“All fine,” she said, already breathless.

“Even anal?”

She nodded and flattened her hands on her knees. She’d tugged down her dress about sixteen times now. “I like it.”

“Really.” He stretched out the word until she grinned despite her nerves.

With one more bolstering gulp of her wine, she set the glass aside. She’d already drunk more than half. She couldn’t complain about the vintage or the crisp floral notes, not that she’d paid much attention to either. “Yes. I’ve only done it with Aidan so far, but…yes.”

“What about me going down on you?” His voice thickened. Deepened. “You’re okay with that?”

“Of course.” She pressed her thighs together and knew he’d noticed when the corner of his mouth kicked up. “Do any women actually say no?”

“You’d be surprised.”

“Then you must not know the right women.” She gave him a flirty look under her lashes. “Or else you’re not too good at it.”

He accepted her challenge silently, crossing the floor to her on his hands and knees. She had to stifle the urge to moan long before he drew himself up and cupped her jaw. “Want me to demonstrate? Or is that against the rules?”