shoulders and twirled her toward him. âWho says?â
âNo one has to say it to my face.â She motioned to the wall of mirrors. âItâs very clear every time Iâm forced to see my reflection.â
With two of his fingers under her chin, he turned her head away from the mirrors to stare into his warm eyes. âThen youâre looking in the wrong ones. Youâre beautiful. Youâve always been beautiful.â He tucked a strand of her hair behind her ears, his tender touch eliciting a shiver. âAnd Iâll prove it to you. Let my photos be your mirror. See yourself as I see you.â
Always been beautiful? Was that a line to make her feel better or did he mean it? And if he did, how would he know?
She didnât doubt his talent, but the models in the photos must have had perfect bodies, something sheâd never have even if she lost another forty pounds. Her thighs were too thick and her butt too round. Sure, she had big, firm breasts, but without her bra, gravity kicked in. Heâd need to use some photo-editing software to make her appear beautiful.
His eyes narrowed. âI see those negative thoughts floating around in your mind. Trust me to erase them all for you. Can you do that, darling?â
She exhaled loudly, nodding her assent while her inner critic scoffed at his promise. âIâll try.â
âCome with me.â He laced his fingers in hers and directed her toward the back of the room to an adjacent alcove. Heâd transformed the small space into a studio with several cameras on tripods, gigantic lights, and a white backdrop that extended onto the floor.
âTake off your clothes and then lay down on the middle of the sheet.â He fiddled with the cameras, aiming them all toward the center, where he expected her to lie. Naked.
While Cole seemed indifferent to her presence, her own heart sprinted a marathon as she began to undress. Her hands shook so much, she had a difficult time unbuttoning her blouse, and it took several tries before she could get the first one through the hole.
She shook her head at herself. Dozens of naked women strut around Benediction every night. Hers was just one more naked body. Cole probably wouldnât bat an eyelash, especially since heâd already seen her without her clothes. He was an artist. She was his model. And his slave. One who he had to train, and part of that training must entail building self-esteem. After all, what kind of slave would she make if she feared getting naked?
She peeled off her blouse and unhooked her bra, letting it fall to the floor, then she slid down her skirt. Her mouth went as dry as Scottsdale in the summer as she folded her clothes and left them in a neat pile. Blowing out a breath, she settled where heâd directed, lying flat on her back with her arms over her head so her breasts would appear perkier, a trick sheâd learned from one of her womenâs magazines.
She waited for what felt like forever, watching Cole in action as he concentrated on tipping the lights and shifting the cameras while he sucked his bottom lip into his mouth. Finally, he finished fiddling with the equipment and turned his attention to her.
He froze.
A muscle jumped in his cheek, and his jaw grew rigid.
Had she done something wrong?
Moments later, he snapped out of his odd stupor and kneeled beside her. His hands seemed to tremble as he set her head on her folded arms. âIâm going to take a few photos of you just like this.â He kept his gaze trained on her face like a total professional.
âShould I smile?â
He stood and stomped to the cameras. âDo whatever feels natural.â
Right. Natural. Because she always posed naked for an owner of a sex club.
One by one, he moved behind each camera, shooting a photo before adjusting the aim. âHave you ever seen the Mona Lisa ?â
She blinked, thrown by the question. âYes. Iâve been to the
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