I’m in love with my brother’s best friend.
Blindsided, an all-new brother’s best friend, secret relationship, small town romance from bestselling author, Shelby Gunter, is now available!
I’m in love with my brother’s best friend.
It’s cliché, I know, but Matthew Ellis is the epitome of the perfect book boyfriend. I never stood a chance.
Of course, he has no idea I’ve been in love with him since I was a teenager. So, when I decided to randomly show up on his doorstep on a Friday night… Let’s just say, it wasn’t my smartest move.
In my defense, I wasn’t in my right mind. I’d just found out someone was stalking me in the most horrific way, and I didn’t have anywhere else to go.
I tried my hardest to keep my feelings a secret, but there was no way I could be in close proximity to my childhood crush and not flirt a little. What I wasn’t prepared for was Matthew flirting in return. There was no holding back after that.
There were just two problems to our happily ever after: my overly protective brother who would not be happy we lied to him and my stalker who was hell-bent on making me his, no matter what.
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“Yes! Sexy. Smolder. Lust. I love it.” The shutter of Raul’s camera clicks repeatedly. The lights that bear down on us provide a heat intense enough to melt my makeup. Add in my skin-tight, long-sleeved leather jumpsuit and I’m one light bulb away from a heat stroke.
“I am the furthest thing from sexy under this jacket. I think I’ve sweated off the little body fat I have left,” Zack says in my ear.
We’re both sitting on a motorcycle in a way no self-respecting rider would ever sit. Zack is reclined on his elbow while I’m leaning against him with my back arched to show every one of my curves in the best light. My abs are screaming at me to give them a rest, but that would ruin the photos.
“If I don’t have a six-pack by the end of this shoot, I’m going to riot,” I joke. Zack stifles a laugh.
“Love the smirk. Hold it there.” Raul gets in a few more shots and then allows us to relax. “Fantastic. Talia, I want you behind Zackary. Think long lines, boobs in his face, a dominatrix willing to bow to the man.”
My eyes strain as I attempt to hold back an eye roll. What a crock of patriarchal shit. Not even a domme is allowed to be in power in the modeling world. Not to mention how ignorant Raul’s statement is when it comes to the BDSM lifestyle. Instead of saying any of that, I follow orders like the good model I am.
Zack and I adjust our poses to Raul’s specifications. I’m now standing next to the bike, my arm leaning against Zack’s shoulder while my ass is jutted out. I take slow, deep breaths to keep myself centered. My mind wants to wander, which would result in a distant look on my face instead of the “smolder” Raul is asking for now.
Boredom is never a good look for an ad shoot.
A pang of guilt lances through me. I shouldn’t take my position for granted. How many women would kill to be where I am? I’m getting paid to wear fantastic clothes and rub against a gorgeous guy. What more could I want from my career? Nothing. This is what I’ve worked toward. All the blood, sweat, and tears—so many tears—have gotten me here. I am one of the most sought-after models in the world.
I have nothing to complain about.
Raul finally wraps up the shoot. He goes through the stills to make sure he has everything he needs and then lets us peel out of our clothes. Quite literally, in my case. The sweat coating my skin makes the leather stick to me like a Band-Aid. I have to ask one of the shoot assistants to help me rip off the onesie. Beauty is pain, as they say.
Once I’m back in my own clothes, I grab my stuff and leave the set. I don’t bother with goodbyes because not a single person there genuinely cares if I hang around or not. At the very least, Zack would acknowledge my goodbye, but he’s flirting with one of the set assistants, so I’d rather not interrupt.
The New York City air still holds a bitterness to it that serves as a reminder that winter isn’t quite over yet. I enjoy this time of year. When the sun breaks through the heavy clouds, I feel as if I can take a deep breath for the first time in months.
My phone vibrates in my hand, interrupting my reverie. “Hey, Veronica!” I answer.
“How did the shoot go?” My agent’s uncanny ability to know the minute I’m done is a little spooky sometimes.
“As well as any shoot with Raul can go.”
“Make sure you stretch when you get home. I’d rather you not hurt yourself for the sake of Raul and his need to put models in odd positions.”
I laugh. “I’m on it. What do I have coming next?”
Veronica goes through the next few weeks of my schedule. I can practically see her sitting behind her desk, her glasses perched on the end of her nose as she reads off her massive agenda.
“I have an entire week off?” My surprise is evident. I usually get a max of four days off between shoots. Veronica has always kept me hopping from one place to the next.
“Your London, Paris, and Venice shoots are going to be grueling. I figured a bit of time off would be welcome.”
“You are a godsend, woman. Thank you.” I make my way down to the subway station. “I’m about to go underground. Is there anything else I need to know?”
“Not as far as I’m concerned. Enjoy your week of freedom, just not too much. Okay?”
Her underlying threat is clear. If I create any drama, she’ll have my hide. “Got it.”
For more information about Shelby Gunter and her books, visit her website: https://www.authorshelbygunter.com
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