Chapter 4

Aubrey

I stare up at Gage in disbelief. Surely I’m hallucinating this entire conversation. Maybe I fell asleep while Ted fixed my face; it wouldn’t be the first time. Gage’s gaze moves from my face to my breasts, sweeping lower to my panty-clad…pussy. I blush thinking the word. My breath freezes in my chest when he brushes the back of his fingers over my sensitive nipple.

“These are mine,” he says, his hand trailing lower until his big hand is cupping my pussy. “This is mine. You are mine,” he growls before his lips crash down on mine.

At first, I’m frozen in place, my mind trying to catch up with what’s happening, but then my body takes over and I find myself opening to his kiss. He groans into my mouth as I shyly kiss him back. I completely lose myself in the kiss. I could kiss Gage forever, but a sharp knock on the door breaks us apart.

“Get dressed.”

I slip into the bikini and smile at Gage’s groan. He opens the door; Ted and the wardrobe lady push back into the room. The lady instantly starts adjusting the straps on the bikini top while Ted fixes my smudged lipstick, a look of disapproval on his face.

***

Five wardrobe changes later, the photographer calls lunch and everyone scatters. I grab a bottle of water and head back to my dressing room for some peace and quiet. Gage stalks behind me like an angry bear. I kick the uncomfortable heels off my feet and moan in pleasure at having the too-tight shoes off.

I take a sip of water, the cold liquid hitting my empty stomach and causing it to ache. I set it aside and close my eyes, trying to focus on anything but how hungry I am. Only a few more hours and I can eat. I imagine a cheesy slice of pizza with sausage and black olives. I practically drool at the thought. Not that I’ll get pizza. No, I’ll get exactly two ounces of plain baked chicken with a salad, no dressing. Sometimes I really hate my life, I think, then I feel guilty because so many people have it so much worse than I do.

“What’s wrong?” Gage asks.

“Nothing. Just thinking about dinner.”

His lips form a thin line. “Why aren’t you eating lunch with the rest of them?”

I shrug and wave a hand at the rack of swimsuits behind me in explanation, which just makes him frown.

“You need to eat.”

“I’m fine. The shoot will be over in a few hours.”

He pulls out his phone and taps out a text message. A few seconds later his phone dings and he shoves it back in his pocket, a pleased look on his face. Alrighty then. Gage leans casually against the wall, looking at me. I’m used to eyes being on me, but with Gage I find myself blushing and wondering what he sees when he’s looking so intently at me.

“Do you like being a model?”

“I…” I start to give him the standard response but stop myself. Instead I tell him the truth. “When I first started it was exciting.”

“And now?” he pushes.

“I’m tired.”

“Why do you keep doing it if you’re not happy?”

I turn the chair so I’m facing the mirror. I take in my reflection and ask myself the same thing. Why do I keep doing something I have come to hate? I’m an adult and can choose a different career. I certainly don’t need the money, I’ve made more than enough. 

Bridgette made sure of that. Not that she did it to make sure I was taken care of; it was purely selfish on her part because she gets a cut as my manager. Not to mention the notoriety of having a supermodel for a daughter.

“It’s all I know. I’m good at it.” I shrug. “What else would I do?”

“Whatever you want. You’re beautiful and smart. You can do whatever makes you happy.”

What would I do if I stopped? I think about the camera buried at the bottom of my suitcase filled with pictures of the places I’ve been, and I know what I would do if I weren’t a model. I would be a photographer. I would capture pictures of the world. But can I really do that? Move from in front of the lens to behind it…

A knock at the door pulls me from my thoughts. Gage opens it and takes a familiar square box from the man standing there. The scent of melted cheese and rich tomato sauce fills the room and my stomach lets out an angry growl. Gage opens the box and holds it out to me. Sausage and black olives, my favorite.

“How did you know?” I ask, incredulous. He shifts on his feet, obviously discomfited with my question. Interesting.

“I read an interview.” He rubs the back of his neck and I find his discomfort endearing.

I look at the pizza longingly. “I can’t eat that. It’s not on my diet.”

“Diet? If you were any thinner, you’d blow away in a stiff breeze. Eat. Now.” He pushes the box further under my nose in emphasis.

Licking my lips, I reach for the smallest piece. If my stepmother could see me now she’d have a coronary. I take a bite and moan as the flavors explode on my tongue. Gage’s eyes grow heated at the sound and I blush.

“Good?”

“So, so good.” I take another bite, then another. Before I know it, I’m licking my fingers clean.

“Eat another,” Gage says, his voice rough.

I chew my bottom lip, considering. I’ve already broken the rules, what’s one more piece? What’s that saying? In for a penny, in for a pound? I grab another slice and devour it as well.

“More?”

I rub my full stomach, knowing any more will just make me sick. “No, I’m full. It was delicious. Totally worth the dressing down I’m going to get from my stepmother later.”

Gage gets a stormy expression on his face at the mention of Bridgette. “You can eat whatever you want. And no more skipping meals. I won’t have you making yourself sick.”

A warm feeling spreads in my chest at his declaration. It’s almost as sweet as him claiming me as his. It makes me feel taken care of, something I haven’t felt since my brother joined the army.