Page 64 of Hate To Be Mine

“I’m going for a big idea. Something dramatic for the final shots before the runway show.”

“Okay.”

“I want to run it by you first. Make sure it’s safe. Make sure I’m not being an idiot.”

The fact that he wanted my input and valued my opinion enough to ask before committing to something made me feel all warm and fuzzy.

“Tell me,” I said. “I’m not going anywhere and not just because your hand is holding me in place.”

He chuckled. “Little Bee, you’ve got a death grip on my leg.”

Little Bee.

Oh hot damn.

He had given me a nickname.

23

SEBASTIAN

Iwas nervous to tell her, which was stupid because it was a good idea. A great idea, actually. But after the whole paragliding and tigers debacle at our first meeting, I didn’t want her to shoot it down before I even explained it properly.

The water gently rippled around us. I had very subtly slid my arm around her waist and pulled her closer to me. If I slid that ugly bathing suit to the side, I could slide inside her.

But I couldn’t. And my dick needed to get the message. It was a no-go zone.

“What is it?” she asked even as her hand slid up my thigh just a little higher. If she kept going, she was going to find a surprise.

I needed to focus. I carefully shifted so we were back to being side by side. Shoulder to shoulder.

“It’s my idea for the final shoot before the runway show.”

“I’m listening.”

“It’s dramatic. Artistic. Maybe a little ambitious.”

“Sebastian.” She gave me a look that said get to the point. “Just tell me. As long as your new idea isn’t paragliding tigers, I’m willing to hear you out and try working with it. I’ve come to see you truly are an artist. I’m learning to trust you. Now you have to trust that you can tell me and we can try to figure out the logistics.”

She trusted me? Wow. I wasn’t sure anyone had ever said they trusted me before.

“Are you familiar with Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus?”

Her mouth dropped open. Actually dropped open. She stared at me like I just told her I wanted to do the shoot on the moon.

“What?” I asked.

“In a million years,” she said slowly, “I never would have guessed that’s what you were going to say.”

And just like that, I was pissed. “Why? Because I’m an airhead model? I can’t possibly know about one of the most famous paintings in human history? I must only know about protein shakes and selfie angles, right? I’m only good at smiling pretty and looking good.”

Her cheeks flushed red. She looked away, guilty silence confirming everything.

“Fine,” I said, pulling my hands away from her. “Forget it. My idea is for the models to get their tits out holding a beer and a surfboard. Is that more what you expected from dumb Sebastian?”

“Sebastian.” Her hand shot out, grabbing mine underwater, holding tight. “I’m sorry. That was shitty of me. I shouldn’t have assumed.”

I wanted to stay angry, but her grip on my hand and the genuine regret in her eyes made it impossible. I might be a little overly sensitive. I was so used to being dismissed. I knew I did it to myself, but damn, it got old. I was so tired of being looked at like I had nothing going on above the shoulders.