Inevitable Seductions

Harlem, giving us a tiny bit of privacy. A grin tipped the corners of his mouth, and he pulled his lip between his teeth as he shrugged, until I know how you taste and feel. Steph moved toward me, and my breath hitched in my throat. He stopped with his lips barely inches from mine, and my cheeks warmed under the attention of his eyes roving over my face. Or, until you give me a firm no. I ran my tongue over my lips, meeting his gaze as I reached up to adjust his collar. My eyes lingered on his, and I had to dig my nails into my hand to keep myself focused, instead of getting hypnotized by the flecks of gold in his dark hazel eyes. No. I said a firm no. He moved closer again, angling his head to the side and dipping it low to speak into my ear. Anytime you say to me, Steph, I don't want you, leave me alone. Or, if I even get the feeling that's what's happening in your head, you don't have to worry about me bugging you. But the vibe I'm picking up says something different. Or, am I wrong? My hands dropped back to my sides as he challenged me with his eyes, basically daring me to tell the lie that I wasn't interested in him. That was a lot of things, but a liar wasn't one of them. So, instead of answering, I turned back to face the view. The sun was setting, so the city was almost draped in darkness. Old architecture mixed with new, creating a glittering skyline of black shapes against the inky purple of the sky as it graduated down to white, then yellow as the sun disappeared for the night. It was beautiful, romantic, really. And the last thing I really needed was a quixotic setting with Steph, of all people. I bit back a moan as his hands went to my waist instead of the rails, and he pressed his body against me. Steph dipped his head, his lips brushing my ear as he spoke. Yeah, so back to my original question. It was pointless, trying to fight the new grin that spread over my lips at that comment. I shook my head, letting out a short laugh. How did you even find me up here? He released his hold on my waist and stepped away from me, putting his back against the balcony rail to look me in the face. Social media, baby. Some little model nigga posted a picture of the two of you on Instagram, talking about this little party y'all are having. I rolled my eyes. We aren't having anything. This is Blake's party for the people on the show and the producing staff since we're shooting the finale tomorrow. Steph smirked. That's not how your boy made it look on the net. That's what happens when you deal with those little baby-faced dudes. I let out a heavy sigh. I did like them, young. Not land my ass in jail, young, because I was way too fine for incarceration, but young. Lots of stamina, young. Eager to please, young. Nowhere near interested in settling down, young. Too busy trying to be a player to realize they were the prey, young. Kroy was 22 and Kroy was perfect. Black French. A model with a dick that notoriously had a mind of its own in underwear shoots and frequently had to be edited down. Too much of a distraction. And a propensity towards saying nasty things in his native language while using that unruly dick on me. I first met Kroy last year on a magazine shoot in Paris. Now we were back in the same space because I was one of the guest judges on the finale of this reality show, Model Search Bullshit, and I had to pretend I barely knew him. Best Face Forward was a modeling competition created and hosted by my supposed nemesis, Blake Hollis, a fellow former supermodel. Since she wasn't actually my enemy, as had been the story since we were in our 20s, 15 years ago, I would support that girl through anything, even this silly scripted competition show. Kroy wasn't going to win no matter how well he performed tomorrow, but because of his dynamic presence on the show, he was about to blow up. He was already blowing up and in high demand, professionally and personally.