“A coffee would be great,” said King, emitting his usual master of the universe confidence. He might have been a duck out of water in this situation, but it didn’t show for a second.

“Coffee it is. Come with me while Alexis gets her face done.”

They were already walking away when I suddenly realised Bradley didn’t know about my lie. And he was chatty – too chatty. That meant he’d start grilling King on the nature of our relationship. And during that grilling it’d become pretty obvious that I didn’t, in fact, bat for the other team. The makeup artist was smoothing on a base foundation when I began rummaging in my bag for my phone. My fingers glided fast over the screen as I typed out a message to Bradley.

Alexis: He thinks I’m a lesbian. Play along.

His response was almost instantaneous.

Bradley: And he thinks this why...?

Alexis: We’re friends. If he thinks I’m gay, it eliminates the possibility of him coming on to me.

Bradley: And you don’t want him to come on to you why…?

I snorted a laugh, the makeup artist getting cranky when I kept looking down at my phone. I told her I just had to send one more text and then she’d have my full attention.

Alexis: Because he’s also my boss.

Bradley: No way! :O

Grinning, I finally put my phone away and let the girl do my makeup. She’d moved on to my eyes when King reappeared, holding a mug. He sipped on it, gaze grazing me, lingering on the curve of my chest. Those eyes of his were so…consuming. Then his attention wandered to another of the models who was passing by. I swear I’d never seen anyone with such perfectly proportioned junk in their trunk. King had noticed, too. The woman caught him looking at her and gave him a sassy little smile.

Bitch.

Okay, so I knew I had no right to be jealous. This was a predicament of my own devising. I’d had King’s attention from the beginning, and it had been my decision to deflect that attention with a fib. Yes, I’d made my bed, but it seemed I no longer wanted to lie in it. I hated feeling like this, so I tried to shrug it off with a joke.

“I call dibs,” I mouthed at him, allowing my eyes to flick to the model just before she disappeared behind a rack of clothes.

He took a step closer and leaned down to whisper in my ear. “I’ll thank you for the lovely visual, but how do you know she’s that way inclined?”

His words made me shiver. I turned my face to him, startled when I found our lips a mere inch apart, and tapped the side of my head. “Top-notch gaydar.”

King chuckled and stood up straight again. “Whatever you say.”

For the next few minutes we were both quiet as King took in his surroundings, i.e. the other models. The place was jam-packed with bootilicious females. When my makeup was done, I peered at myself in the mirror, liking the results. She’d outlined my upper eyelids with black liquid liner, and used a golden-brown eye shadow to create a smoky effect. It made my usually black eyes seem brighter, like a deep chocolate brown. My lips were a glossy peach colour, and my cheekbones had been highlighted with a shimmery blush.

A moment later a thin blond guy came and used a curling iron to style my hair into glossy waves. It took him less than five minutes, and right after he’d suffocated me with hair spray he was off, setting to work on the next model.

I turned my head from side to side, admiring my ’do, then looked up to see King standing behind me. His focus was completely on my face. I’d been so preoccupied studying my reflection that I hadn’t noticed him watching me.

“You look….” he began, but then paused, shaking his head. “Never mind.” He glanced down at his watch. “When do you think they’ll start taking pictures?”

Before I could answer, Bradley sauntered over, carrying a clothes hanger. “Soon-ish. Here, Lexie, go put these on.” I took the clothes and went behind one of the nearby privacy screens to get changed. King followed but remained standing on the other side of the screen.

“Have you ever modelled before?” he asked, curious.

“Nope. First time,” I replied, and pulled off my T-shirt, trying to ignore the way my skin tingled to have him so close as I undressed.

“You’re a photo shoot virgin,” he continued, a smile in his voice.

“Ah, I gave you that one too easy,” I said, grinning and slipping off my leggings and boots. I turned to pick up the outfit Bradley had given me. It consisted of a tight black sleeveless dress with a sweetheart neckline, sheer tights, and a pair of bright red four-inch heels. I had a bit of trouble fitting my boobs into the dress, since the fabric didn’t have any give whatsoever. Standing in front of a full-length mirror, I tried some manoeuvring, letting out a quiet grunt. Ugh, I thought these clothes were supposed to be plus-sized. I felt as though I’d been sewn into the thing, like Sandy D and her slinky black pants.

“Need some help?” King asked, his voice a reminder that he was close by.

“Um,” I said, “could you go get Bradley?”

Before I knew it, King had come behind the screen, and I heard him inhale a sharp breath when he saw me. Again, I tried to deflect the tension with humour. “Looks like I’ve been eating too many of the old onion bhajis. This dress is way too tight.”

King stepped forward, and almost of its own accord his hand went to my nape before running down the length of my spine. My breathing hitched.

“No,” he murmured. “It’s perfect.”

“King.”

“Yes, Alexis?”

“That’s enough touching.”

His hand paused when it landed just above my bottom. He ignored my comment and asked, “What did you want Bradley for?”

I turned around, breaking the contact, and gestured to my chest region. “The girls can’t breathe in this infernal contraption.”

King laughed tenderly. “Well, they look fantastic.”

I scowled at him. “You’re not helping.”

“I’m sorry,” he said and took a step closer, his voice lowering. “What can I do to help?” His eyes were nowhere near my face. No, they were glued to my heaving bosom.

“You can stop ogling me, for a start.”

“Sorry. Can’t do that. Anyway, why do you care?” He tilted his head and arched a brow.

His question riled me. “Misogyny. That’s why I care.” Oh, God, I was officially grasping at straws. “All you men are interested in is boobs and bums.”

King stepped forward again, and now he had me backed into a corner. “You forgot the third b-word.”

“What?”

“Brains.”

I snorted.

“Don’t believe me?”

“Coming from the man who gave me an interview based on my looks.” I glanced away, already sensing this was an argument I wasn’t going to win.

“Ah, but I gave you the job based on your quick wit. And I’ve already told you how intelligent I think you are.”

“Why are you trying to butter me up?” I asked suspiciously. His chest was dangerously close to brushing up against mine.

“That’s not what I’m doing.” A pause, followed by a thoughtful expression. “Can I ask a question?”

I hesitated a second. “Sure.”

Now he closed the remaining distance between us. His breath hot and humid on my cheeks when he whispered, “Have you ever had a cock before?”

My heart stuttered as I swallowed, unable to meet his gaze. He continued talking. “You should try one, just to make sure. Who knows — you might even like it.”

I still couldn’t look at him, and a heavy silence fell between us. My head swam with visions of him prying my legs apart and ramming himself deep inside me. My knees grew weak at the thought. His voice sounded different when he finally said, “Alexis, are you…?”

“Lexie, you’re up,” Bradley called, interrupting whatever King had been about to say. Acting on instinct, I slid away from him and hurried to Bradley, needing an escape. I went and stood with the rest of the models who were awaiting direction. Giving my appearance one last look in a full-length mirror, I tried to summon some calm. Oh, King had been right — my boobs did look fantastic, even if they were being suffocated half to death. The cut of the dress and the push-up bra I was given worked wonders together.