Page 46

When Monty walks into the living room dressed in black slacks and a blue button-down, I stand up from the sofa and shake my head.

“Oh, no. We’re wearing swimsuits for our shoot. I laid yours out for you.”

“Laid it out where?” he asks.

“On the bed.”

Monty clears his throat, then says, “The only thing on the bed was a pair of your black panties.”

“Nope.” I stride past him into the bedroom with him following right behind me. Picking up the black fabric, I hold it up with both hands. “This is your swimsuit.”

“No.”

“Yes!” I exclaim as I playfully slap his shoulder with the speedo before tossing it back on the bed. “You agreed to go along with all my crazy this weekend.”

“I’m making an amendment. That doesn’t include wearing tiny panties in public.”

“Fine. But I’m wearing my bathing suit, so you can swim in your boxer briefs. Or slacks. But we are taking photos in the pool and maybe in the ocean...”

Monty hesitates before eventually asking, “What does your swimsuit look like?”

I untie the sash around my waist to whip open the robe revealing the tiny white bikini underneath.

His mouth literally falls open.

“The top…it’s…it barely…” he stammers.

“Barely covers my nipples?” I supply for him and he swallows hard and nods.

“I have handkerchiefs that would provide more coverage than that…that little triangle,” he remarks about my bottoms.

I let the robe slip off my shoulders, puddling on the floor so I can turn around and show him the backside.

“Jesus, Kendall.”

It’s a thong.

“Are you going to put on your bathing suit or should I change into something else for our photoshoot?”

Monty’s eyes brighten as if he’s finally on board. “Photos. Okay. Fine.”

That’s right. I hope he saves the photos and looks at them often.

“Good, now, go put on your panties and stop procrastinating. The photographer will be here any minute,” I remind him.

He picks up the speedo from the mattress then asks, “Is this a male or female photographer?”

“Does it matter?”

“I’d prefer it be a woman if you’re going to be wearing that,” he grumbles.

I just smile, enjoying what I think is his jealousy for a man he hasn’t even met yet.

I’m not sure why he cares. Monty’s attracted to me, sure, but he would never want a relationship with someone like me.

When Monty comes out of the bathroom wearing the black Speedo and nothing but the black Speedo, my first reaction is… well, not to laugh because my God, the man is carved from granite.

I expected him to be a bit timid in the attire, awkward even, trying to cover up his manhood rather than let it all hang out.