Page 37 of Under the Same Sky

I can’t help but smile. “You too, Phillipe.”

“You ready for this?” He asks, intuitively picking up on my nerves.

I nod. “As ready as I’ll ever be. Where do you want me?”

He taps his nose, looking between me and Thorin, who’s standing in my periphery.

“I think we’ll start with you and Thorin together.”

“Uh,” I look to Mya and she shrugs. “Okay, that’s fine.” I might have squeaked the last part because not once—not once, damnit—did I consider that we’d be photographed together. I should have, because it makes perfect sense, but my brain chose to block that possibility out.

“Thorin,” Philippe gestures for him to stand in front of the white backdrop, “if you can just stand straight, arms across your chest, legs parted, and then Reese,” he positions me at Thorin’s side, “if you can cock your hip out like so, and rest your arm on his shoulder, both of you look at me.” He grabs his camera, and gets ready. “Okay, here we go.”

Chapter Fifteen

Thorin

While Reese has shots taken of her last outfit for today (thank God, and I say that because she look sexy as fuck in everything, and it’s driving me nuts), I try get comfortable in my last outfit for the day. The base leggings are supposed to be worn under gym shorts, but for reasons I’ll never know, they decided to photograph me in just the leggings. The leggings that hug my ass, and my thighs, and have me praying that watching Reese won’t give me a damn hard on. The whole studio will see it in these things. And it’s not like I can’t not watch Reese, she’s gorgeous, strong, and once she finds her stride in front of the camera, almost everyone watches her anyway.

“Okay,” the photographer, Phillipe, snaps his fingers. “Thorin, we need you two together again.”

I’ve been to more shoots than I can remember for the band, be it for publicity or an upcoming tour, and not once did I feel nervous. Hell, we do an almost-nude calendar every year for charity and having random people see my body or my junk has never bothered me. And is that confidence anywhere to be found now as I make my way towards Reese? Fuck. No. And judging from Mya’s mischievous expression, I’m doing a piss poor job of hiding my anxiety. It’s laughable, really, because I’ve performed in front of millions, and yet, it’s Reese who makes my stomach twist. Oh Jesus, do I have fucking butterflies? I’m a grown ass fucking man, for crying out loud, we do not get butterflies or warm fuzzies. Someone scurries over to powder Reese’s nose, but when they try to do the same for me, my expression has them scurrying in the opposite direction. It wasn’t intentional, but I’m pulled so tight, my skin stretching unnaturally over skin and bone. Reese faces me in her tropical blue seamless cropped leggings, the kind that give away the shape of her pussy, and a matching sports bra that lifts her breasts, giving me the perfect view of cleavage.

Fuuuuck. I need to think abut something else. Stat. An image of a naked Fletch pops into my head, and thank God for small mercies, because that does the trick. Until Reese smiles, her eyes alight with excitement, and happiness. Before Phillipe can tell me where to stand, I quicken my pace until I’m behind Reese, and planting my hands on her shoulders, I face her forward.

“Thorin, what—”

“Just stand still,” I mumble.

Does she listen? Of course not. Instead of keeping the small space between us, she steps back, and freezes. Phillipe gets his camera ready, apparently liking how we’re positioned, and just as he starts clicking away, Reese starts giggling. Because really, that is exactly what my ego needs right now.

“Ohmygod,” she breathes, chancing a look between her backside and my front. “That’s—” She cuts herself off by laughing this time, full-belly, dick-hardening laughter. Phillipe, not missing a beat, clicks away. “These are some great candid shots,” he chuckles from behind his lens. “Thorin, think you can lose the hard expression?”

Oh for fuck’s sake.

Reese is in hysterics, and I’m on the verge of showing everyone in this room just how hard my expression really is. I grab Reese, pick her up and wrap her legs around my waist.

Her head lands on my shoulder, and her infectious amusement has me cracking a smile.

“Somethin’ funny, Reese Pie?”

She shakes her head, and then I drop her a few inches. She stills, her head flies up, and her mouth makes the perfect O. “Not so funny now, huh.”

Her cheeks flush, and the color travels down her heck, over her breasts. “I, um, thats…okay, then.”

I smirk, the camera goes off, and then I decide to fuck with her a little. I bend my knees to a squat, spreading her legs a little, and feel the beast in me awaken when she lines up with me, the seam of her leggings right over my shaft.

“Thorin,” she warns, still flustered.

“What? We’re just having some fun.” I wink, and decide to play this to my advantage. I right myself and before Reese can drop to the floor, I keep one leg in my grip, and step into her. Her delicate hands land on my pecs, and when she feels my heart hammering a mile a minute, her eyes search mine, that familiar crackle igniting between us. “Just give me a minute,” I whisper in her ear. “It’ll, uh, go away.”

Just when I thought she couldn’t surprise me anymore, she starts laughing again, and when I’m sure my dick is no longer NSFW, I decide to really go for it. Reese squeaks when I pick her up and toss her over my shoulder, ass to camera, then she’s in my arms, throwing her head back. More laughter, I want more from her. Then she’s on my shoulders, while I sumo squat, and then I’m holding her above my head. Anything I can do to make her laugh, I do it, and laugh she does. By the time we’re done, Phillipe is laughing with us. “You two have such explosive chemistry.” He turns to Mya. “Did you get enough shots?”

I didn’t realize she’d been taking pictures with her phone, but I don’t care. She’ll use it to amp up the launch, and if my fans have to see me looking ridiculous, then I’d do it all over again.

“Plenty.” She smiles, and winks. Brat. But I shoot her a wink in return, she knows I wouldn’t act a fool for anyone other than Reese.

“I think that’s a wrap,” Phillipe says, browsing the images on his monitors. “I will have them all edited and sent to Mya. They’re all so great,” he adds. “Especially the images of the two of you together.”