The black SUV hummed along the winding highway, its sleek lines slicing through the late afternoon haze. The cityscape had long since melted into suburban sprawl, a blur of strip malls and cookie-cutter houses fading in the rearview mirror. I adjusted my grip on the steering wheel, the leather creaking under my palms, and stole a glance at the passenger seat. Laura B sat there, all long legs and sharp edges, her presence filling the car like a storm cloud about to break. She was a model I’d worked with a handful of times before, but today felt different. Charged. Dangerous.
Her dark hair spilled over one shoulder as she scrolled through her phone, her crimson lips curling into a smirk that could cut glass. She hadn’t said a word since I’d picked her up twenty minutes ago, but the silence was anything but peaceful. It was the kind of quiet that screamed trouble. I cleared my throat, reaching for the radio to fill the void with something—anything.
The opening riff of Led Zeppelin’s “Whole Lotta Love” crackled through the speakers, and Laura’s head snapped up, her green eyes glinting with mischief. “Oh, come on, Jack,” she drawled, her voice dripping with mock pity. “What is this, your grandpa’s mixtape? I didn’t peg you for a relic.”
I chuckled, unfazed. “Hey, classics are classics for a reason. You’ll appreciate good taste when you’re older, kid.”
“Kid?” She arched a perfectly sculpted brow, leaning back in her seat with a predatory grace. “I’m twenty-five, not twelve. And let’s not pretend you’re some wise old sage. That dad bod of yours isn’t exactly screaming ‘timeless wisdom.’”
I barked out a laugh, patting my stomach for emphasis. “This? This is prime real estate, Laura. Pure comfort. You wouldn’t get it—stick figures like you don’t know the value of a good cushion.”
Her smirk widened, and she shifted in her seat, crossing one leg over the other, her skirt riding up just enough to make my pulse stutter. “Oh, I get plenty, Jack. But comfort? That’s not what I’m after. I like a challenge.” Her eyes flicked over me, appraising, lingering just long enough to make the air in the car feel ten degrees hotter. “And you? You look like you could use a little… excitement.”
I kept my eyes on the road, but I could feel her gaze burning into me. “I’ve got plenty of excitement, thanks. My lens captures more action than you’d believe.”
“Action, huh?” She laughed, low and throaty, the sound wrapping around me like velvet. “Is that what you call snapping pics of fruit bowls and corporate headshots? Real thrilling, Jack. I bet your camera’s the only thing getting any action these days.”
“Low blow, Laura,” I shot back, grinning despite myself. “But I’ll have you know, my camera and I have seen things that’d make you blush. You’re not the only one who knows how to play dirty.”
She tilted her head, her smirk turning wicked. “Oh, I don’t blush, sweetheart. I’m the one who makes others turn red. And speaking of dirty…” She leaned forward, her fingers brushing against the console as she turned down the music, her voice dropping to a husky purr. “You should really focus on the road. Wouldn’t want to crash before the fun starts.”
My grip tightened on the wheel, my knuckles whitening. “Fun? We’re halfway to the shoot, Laura. What kind of fun are you planning in a moving vehicle?”
Her laugh was pure sin, and before I could process it, she was leaning closer, her breath warm against my ear. “The kind that doesn’t wait for a studio, Jack. I don’t do schedules. I do what I want, when I want.” Her hand slid onto my thigh, her touch light but deliberate, sending a jolt straight through me. “And right now, I want to see if you can keep up.”
“Jesus, Laura,” I muttered, my voice rougher than I intended. I shot her a sideways glance, trying to gauge if she was serious or just messing with me. Her eyes were dark, pupils blown wide, and there wasn’t a trace of hesitation in her expression. She was all confidence, all control, and I was suddenly very aware of how small the SUV felt with her this close.
“What’s wrong, Jack?” she teased, her fingers tracing lazy circles on my thigh, each movement deliberate, calculated. “Can’t handle a little distraction? I thought photographers were supposed to be good under pressure.”
“I’m fine under pressure,” I growled, forcing my eyes back to the highway. “But you’re playing a dangerous game. I’ve got a job to do, and crashing into a ditch isn’t part of the plan.”
“Plans are boring,” she whispered, her lips brushing the shell of my ear as her hand slid higher, her touch bolder now, leaving no room for misinterpretation. My breath hitched, and I cursed under my breath, torn between the road and the heat radiating from her. “Live a little, Jack. Or are you too old for that, too?”
I laughed, the sound strained, and shook my head. “You’re gonna be the death of me, you know that?”
“Only if you’re lucky,” she shot back, her voice thick with promise. She pulled back just enough to meet my eyes, her smirk now a full-blown grin as her hand lingered, possessive, unapologetic. “Consider this a warm-up. The real shoot starts early, baby. Better get used to me taking the lead.”
I swallowed hard, my heart pounding in my chest as I tried to focus on the road ahead. Flustered didn’t even begin to cover it. Laura B wasn’t just a model—she was a force of nature, a hurricane in human form, and I was caught in the eye of the storm. And damn if I didn’t want more.
“Buckle up, Jack,” she added with a wink, finally leaning back into her seat, though her hand stayed where it was, a silent reminder of who was in charge. “This ride’s just getting started.”
I didn’t trust myself to respond, not with the heat still simmering between us. All I could do was grip the wheel tighter and pray I’d survive the rest of the drive. Laura B had just turned a routine trip into something else entirely, and I had a feeling this was only the beginning.
Want to know how it ends?
This is just the opening chapter. Continue the saga — or write a steamy tale starring you.