IT WAS LIKE déjà vu, someone telling me to take my clothes off.
Now that I knew how to do.
After I stripped down, the designer flapped about, tucking and pinning each item of clothing to mold it to my larger frame. There were three outfits total that I’d be wearing, and the other two were already pinned and in the hands of assistants to finish up.
It didn’t matter to me what the hell they put me in, but I actually really liked the champagne-colored, wide-legged trousers I currently wore. They were comfortable and didn’t need a bit of tweaking, unlike the open jacket I wore over my bare chest. It hit above the waist of the pants, and though it wasn’t anything I’d normally put on, as I looked myself over in the full-length mirror, I thought I looked a hell of a lot like an actual model.
“Okay, take this off, but keep the pants on. I’ll be right back,” the designer said, running off before I could do just that.
I shrugged out of the jacket and handed it off to their assistant, and as I was ushered into a hair and makeup chair, I took in the flurry of activity inside the tent.
Donovan had disappeared somewhere to put on his first outfit, and there were still models in the row of styling setups getting their finishing touches put on. I wasn’t even sure what time it was or how long we had until the show—hell, I didn’t even know what the catwalk looked like. I’d only seen it being pieced it together when we arrived yesterday.
Jesus, how had I ended up here? I’d come to support Donovan, to watch him get ready and then see his sexy ass strut the catwalk, and now, somehow, I’d become a part of this.
“We need to make this quick.” Marco was back, along with a different makeup artist, and they both went to work on me. Even with my eyes shut, I could feel the brush strokes across my skin and the way Marco untied my hair and slicked it back from my face, leaving the ends free. Each model was given the same look to make the collection appear more uniform. I took the opportunity while my eyes were closed to take a few solid breaths, steadying the nerves creeping in.
Ridiculous that I’d be nervous over this when the first day of shooting porn I’d given no fucks whatsoever. Maybe that was the key. I thought I’d had nothing to lose doing a sex scene, but something more high profile like this, and with Donovan attached, and the event took on more importance.
The opportunity here was different. Or maybe it was that I weighed them differently in my mind. If I fucked this up, there was no way I’d even have a remote chance of doing it again.
And with porn… Well, fucking was exactly what I was there to do. It was easy. Natural. At least, it had been for the handful of scenes I’d done so far, all of them either alone or with Donovan. Maybe it would’ve been different if he wasn’t the one who’d walked in that day. Maybe being with someone else in front of cameras and crew would’ve had me feeling nerves the way I did now.
I took in another slow, deep breath in an attempt to clear my mind, and that was when I heard Donovan’s voice filtering through the busy tent from somewhere behind me.
“You touch the hair on his face, I may have to commit murder.”
It wasn’t easy to keep my face still and not laugh at Donovan’s threat, because I knew he wasn’t joking. He liked the way my scruff felt between his thighs way too much to let it go.
When the makeup brush was lifted from my face, I opened my eyes and grinned at the sexy man who’d come to watch me in the mirror.
“Threatening lives now,” I said, arching a brow. “You do know it grows back.”
“Uh uh, don’t even think about it.”
The makeup artist smirked, stepping back to look over his handiwork. “Don’t worry, you’ll get this handsome face back in exactly the condition it arrived in.”
“Finally, someone speaking some sense.” Donovan threw his hands up as he stood off to the side watching me. How the tables had turned so quickly.
The artists didn’t waste any time getting me ready, and once they’d moved on, Donovan came to stand in front of me between my thighs.
“You know, I think this is the only time I’ve ever seen you nervous,” he said.
I rolled my eyes, and he grinned.
“No, that’s not a bad thing. Kinda cute, actually.”
“Doesn’t feel cute. If I’d known this would happen, I wouldn’t have eaten all of my breakfast and half of yours.”
Donovan reached for my hands, holding them on my thighs. “If you feel it coming back up, there are buckets on each side of the stage.”
“You serious?”
He shrugged, as if it was something normal that happened at these things. “Better to do it there than all over the audience.”
“That’s really helpful, thanks.”
“Speaking of helpful, I wanted to show you something.”
Before I could ask what, he squeezed my hands, pulled me out of the chair, and navigated us through the tent before stopping at the side of a whole lot of…nothing.
“You getting me alone so you can have your way with me?” I teased.
“If I knew we wouldn’t be ripped new assholes by Mira and the designer, I’d be tempted to. No, I wanted you to see this.” He lifted a small flap, and though there was a mesh screen, I could still clearly see the catwalk.
And all the rows of people around it.
“I’m not showing you this to stress you out,” he said, as if he could feel my pulse get faster. “You aren’t familiar with this design like the rest of us. We were able to walk it earlier.”
Donovan went through which wing I’d come out from, which side of the catwalk I’d walk first, since it forked in the middle, and where to stop and pose. Then he showed me a couple of ways to move so the photographers could get their shots before walking with me to show me the pace I’d need to go.
Fuck, what would I have done without him? He’d known what I needed before I’d even voiced it, and already I felt calmer.
He made me walk alone down a narrow strip of the tent out of the way of everyone else rushing around, and when I turned to head back in his direction, there was heat in his eyes.
“Daaamn,” he said, shaking his head as his gaze traveled over every inch of me. “If you don’t have people trying to storm the catwalk to get to you, I might die of shock.”
I scoffed, but then grinned. “You’re good for my ego.”
“I’m good for a lot of other, more interesting things. Want me to show you?”
“Yeah, I fuckin’ do. Think you can stop looking at me like that so I don’t get fired from my first show for indecent behavior?”
Donovan gave an exaggerated groan, closing the space between us. “I can’t promise I’ll stop looking, but I promise I won’t touch you. Yet.”
That promise had my cock way too interested, given where we were standing, and I cursed as I willed the damn thing to chill out. It didn’t seem to matter whether Donovan was touching me, kissing me, or even looking my way—my body took notice.
I wasn’t complaining, though. Not a bit.
“So you feel good?” he asked. “You feel ready?”
“As ready as I can be now, thanks to you.” I automatically leaned in to kiss him, but thank fuck he had the sense to move away at the last second, or it’d be back in the makeup chair for us. “Oh shit, sorry.”
“Save that for later.” A smirk crossed those sexy, shiny lips. “And not just for my mouth.”
There he went again, and that…that was evil. He knew just what to say to rile me up, but even more, to take my mind off what was about to happen.
The designer hurried toward me, throwing the jacket my way, and once I put it on, they did a quick circle around me, tugging and checking the fit. Once satisfied, they were off again, and I gave myself one last look in a mirror.
Assistants came through then, calling for places, and one of them led me to where I’d be in the first lineup, as well as where I’d go to change as soon as I finished the first walk. As luck would have it, Donovan was on the same wing as me, but he was several people ahead of me, since he’d be opening the show alongside a popular female model I probably should’ve known the name of.
As the music began to blare and lights flashed, Donovan glanced over his shoulder at me and blew a kiss. I grinned and winked back as adrenaline began to course through me. There was an almost tangible buzz backstage among the models that I could feel radiating off each one, and I soaked it in, letting that and the music hype me up.
And then Donovan was off, walking out to open the show to shouts and applause that made me jealous I wasn’t out there watching him. It felt like he was gone only seconds before he was back, running off to change, but shooting me a smile as he passed.
Damn, this was gonna go quick. Just enjoy it. It may never happen again.
One by one, the others in front of me made their turns as someone from the designer’s team did a final fit check and brushed my hair back over my shoulders.
This was it. It was time.
The show director nodded and gave me the go-ahead, and I took in a deep breath and walked out. Instantly I noticed the blazing heat from the lights overhead as I came to stand at the center for a moment like Donovan had shown me. It was almost blinding, the combination of daylight, the strobes, and the flashes of cameras going off as I waited briefly for a model to come off the catwalk before heading down the left side of the fork.
The change I felt was immediate. Something about stepping out in front of a crowd erased any anxiety I’d felt, and in its place was the confident attitude I usually possessed.
My shoulders relaxed as I kept my eyes on a fixed point ahead, kept my expression neutral, and let my body do the talking. At least that I felt good about. I was proud of the way I looked, that I spent so much time working it as close to peak physical perfection as I could get.
I stopped at the end of the catwalk to let the photographers get their shots, and just before I walked off, I looked directly at one of the cameras and winked.
I wasn’t sure what made me do it other than I was starting to feel good with all the eyes of the crowd on me. I wanted to give them a show, even in subtle ways.
It wasn’t like I had anything to lose. If this was going to be my only show, I may as well have fun doing it and leave an impression.
As soon as I set foot backstage, I was rushed off, and someone tore the jacket off me from behind while I unbuttoned my pants. I didn’t see Donovan anywhere, but things were moving so fast that I probably would’ve missed him even if he’d been beside me.
I’d barely gotten into the next outfit—another short jacket, with some kind of a kilt—before I was thrust back out onto the catwalk for round two. It felt even easier this time, and maybe there was a little more swagger to my walk as I loosened up and got into it. By the time I was back out for the third and final look, I wasn’t ready for the show to end. It was an adrenaline rush in the best way, and I could only hope it wouldn’t be the last time I got to do something like this.
“Wait, where you going?” An assistant grabbed me as I made my way backstage and thrust me back in line.
Oh, right. The finale walkout. I knew that.
Everyone in the crowd was on their feet and clapping as we walked out in a line, with Donovan and the female model leading the way. I could see him out of the corner of my eye and was dying to look, but I restrained myself. Barely. It wasn’t something I did often, so someone needed to give me a damn medal for it.
The designer came out, waved at everyone, then quickly disappeared backstage, and all of us single-filed it after him.
“Incredible collection…”
“Absolutely exquisite work…”
The reviews were already coming in as I passed the flurry of people gathering to speak to the designer. The same team that had helped me quick-change helped me out of the final outfit, and it wasn’t until I was standing there in just a pair of tight boxer briefs that I remembered where my own clothes were.
Hell, I could’ve been naked and I probably would’ve felt even more comfortable in that moment, now that the stress over tripping and falling on my face was done. But it would’ve been awkward when I reached the station I’d gotten ready at and a small woman came flying in my direction.
“You are a lifesaver,” Mira said, not fazed in the least by how much skin I was showing. Her face was more animated than it had been before the show, like she’d seen something she liked and was excited about it.
“No problem. It was a lot of fun. If you ever need me to fill in again—”
“Oh, darling, no,” she said, chuckling, and I couldn’t stop my face from falling.
I hadn’t done that terribly, had I? To the point she was laughing?
She gave my arm a reassuring squeeze. “I mean, I would never use you as just a fill-in. You’re a natural.”
“Really?” Wow, that was damn nice to hear.
She reached into the small clutch she carried and pulled out a business card. “Call me when you get back to the city. I’d love to set up a meeting with you if you’re interested.”
If I was interested? Fuck yeah I was interested.
But my mouth wouldn’t move the way I wanted it to, so I found myself nodding and finally forcing out, “Sure.”
If Mira minded, she didn’t show it, giving me a pat on the arm before turning around and almost running smack into Donovan. I hadn’t even seen him standing there, but the massive grin on his face told me he’d heard the entire thing.
“Van, brilliant as always,” she told him, giving him air kisses before hurrying off. Over her shoulder she called out, “Tell your boyfriend to call me.”
The proud yet amused expression on Donovan’s face spoke volumes as he wrapped his arms around my waist. He’d already thrown his clothes on, but still wore a face full of makeup, and this time I didn’t care about messing him up as I leaned down to greet him with a soft kiss.
“Well,” he said, eyes shining as he looked up at me. “Looks like I’m not the only one you’ve made quite an impression on in this town.”
