Huge thanks to everyone who commented on and read the last chapter. Special shout out to Fairy Princess Moon, Appleautumns, Saraaaaaaaa and nicole. kaiwo :)

A mansion was not what Riven had been expecting as a photo shoot location. He wasn't sure what to expect, maybe a sound stage or a studio, but definitely not a mansion. Especially not one with grounds that seemed larger than the neighbourhood he grew up in or an extravagant pool-slash-fountain out front. The building was not something he'd expect to find in New York, with its Grecian architecture, marble stones and abundance of water features.

They were escorted in by a man with hip-length orange hair. He introduced himself as Mr. Palladium, the assistant – and husband – to the boss. Mr. Palladium brought them into the living room, where the photo shoot would take place. Riven had thought Musa's apartment was fancy - to be fair, most places seemed fancy to him if they were bigger than shoebox apartment - but even it had nothing on this place. Nice as it was, though, it desperately needed an update. The living room, with its high ceilings, large crystal chandelier, and grand windows on walls covered in a light pink wallpaper so light it was almost white, looked like it hadn't been redecorated since its construction. The room had been cleared of furniture except for one black velvet chaise lounge close to the fireplace and a red and gold armed chair next to the windows.

"Musa! It's so wonderful to see you again" a tall, French man shouted across the room, making his way over to them. The man had his long, dark hair tied back in a low ponytail and wore a crisp white suit that Riven didn't think could ever be construed as practical, especially in New York. The city was filthy; there was no way this man ever stepped foot onto the sidewalk in that suit without ending up covered in a layer of dirt. The man introduced himself as Mr. Avalon, CEO of Luxure, which Riven supposed was the brand the shoot was for. He'd assumed since one of her best friends was a designer, Musa would only model for her, but, clearly, he'd been wrong.

"It'd be lovelier if it weren't 6am" Musa quipped, earning a laugh from the man. Riven, surprising even himself, chuckled at the comment. He was well aware that Musa was not a morning person. On more than one occasion, he'd heard her alarm go off several times over a half-hour period. It didn't help that she tended to get up in the middle of the night. He'd been woken a few times by the motion sensors Timmy had installed on the staircase pinging. Every time, he'd checked the cameras only to find Musa having a midnight snack.

Musa was herded off to hair and makeup in one of the bedrooms – no longer a bedroom – by Palladium. Riven checked the room first and, once it was confirmed to be clear, seated himself just outside to door to wait for today to be over.

Musa always worked with her own team for hair and makeup, Jordan and Selina. She'd had a traumatic experience when she was sixteen of trusting the team selected by a brand that had made her look ridiculous. Stella had insisted that she looked fine, but Musa knew that fine in Stella-speak meant not good. So now she insisted that it be written into her contact that she would work with her chosen team. Musa would love to be one of those celebrities that did their own makeup, but she just wasn't. Really, if she had it her way, she'd never wear makeup at all. Her management team wasn't a fan of her pulling an Alicia Keys and refusing to wear any at all, though, thankfully, they never forced her to wear an excessive amount. The only times she ever did was for music videos, which she usually had a hand in creating the vision for, so she knew what to expect.

"I've got bad news" Mirta announced, not bothering to knock on the door, just as Musa was finishing up her make up. "Devin, the model that you were working with, was in a car accident."

Selina removed the brush from Musa's face just in time for the singer to whip her head around. She'd met Devin before at one of Stella's parties. He was nice, attractive – tall and broad with beautiful blue eyes and a million watt smile. They'd gotten along well too, so Musa had been happy to know she'd be working with someone she liked. "Fuck. Do we know if he's okay?"

"He'll be fine, but he's definitely not making it to the shoot."

"Yeah, that makes sense" Musa mumbled, still shocked by the news. She instructed Mirta to send flowers to the hospital. What would happen to the shoot hadn't even crossed her mind until Jordan asked about it. They were looking for someone to replace him – though the odds of finding someone this last minute were minimal – if Musa was willing to wait. She considered it; she had nothing else on the schedule for today, and she did want to get this shoot over with – she hadn't even wanted to take it, but it was good publicity and great money, plus they were offering her a bunch of free stuff. Still, she didn't want to wait around all day. In a perfect world, Brandon and Stella would be back from their honeymoon and she could call in a favour from them. But they weren't, so she'd have to wait for someone to be found. "If they've not got someone on the way within an hour, we reschedule."

Mirta had gone into Musa's dressing room a few minutes ago. She'd walked past Riven with a concerned expression on her face that worried him. He quite liked Mirta – she seemed like a sweet, genuine person – and he'd never seen her look so nervous before. She came out a few minutes later, looking significantly more at ease, but the air of concern around her still hung heavy.

Mirta didn't acknowledge him. Instead, she walked over to where Mr. Avalon and Mr. Palladium stood. They'd both been on their phones for the last twenty-five minutes, so Riven figured something had to be happening. That, or they really enjoyed talking on the phone.

Riven watched as Mirta stood patiently, waiting for either of them to hang up. She twiddled with her hands, eyes darting around the room, until the assistant was available. As Mirta was speaking, a young girl with pink hair so aggressively bright it almost made Riven angry joined them. Mr. Avalon joined them shortly after that. He wondered what they were talking about. Whatever it was, it looked serious. He was straining to overhear them – their pensive faces having piqued his curiosity – when the pink-haired girls eyes snapped to him. She eyed him for a minute and returned her attention to the conversation. Riven thought she'd caught him trying to overhear, though he hadn't made any movement and their whispers were far too low for him to hear more than the odd word.

He'd all but given up overhearing when the foursome walked over to him. The pink-haired girl introduced herself as Roxy, the photographer. She looked a bit young to be a photographer for a brand that, though Riven hadn't heard of them, could afford to rent out this mansion and hire Musa to model for them. Hell, she looked a bit young to have a career at all; the girl looked like she couldn't be a day over seventeen.

"So, here's the thing" Roxy started, skipping over any useless chatter – something Riven could appreciate. "Our male model was in a car accident, and we need to replace him."

"Sucks."

"And I think YOU would be perfect for it."

"No." She'd looked so hopeful. Riven almost felt bad rejecting her suggestion so quickly and decisively, but it had been a spectacularly bad idea. Riven had no experience or interest in modeling.

"It pays well" Mr. Avalon jumped in. How Roxy had managed to get him to agree to hire an inexperienced nobody was a mystery to him. They must be truly desperate. "Two thousand for a few hours of work."

"Still no."

"Three thousand?"

"It'll barely be work. Musa will have to do most of the work. You just need to sit around and look hot. Which, you know, you do anyways." Roxy winked at him and shot him a flirtatious smile that made him feel like he needed a shower. He was being hit on by someone that looked young enough to be his child had he been a teen dad.

He wasn't against an easy job that paid well, but that didn't change his complete lack of interest in this specific job. "Still no."

Roxy and Mr. Avalon exchanged glances, and he thought he was in the clear. Mirta, surprisingly, wasn't having it, though, and she requested a moment alone with Riven. Roxy and Mr. Avalon were reluctant, but they agreed, though they hovered close by. Riven watched as Mirta grabbed one of the chairs nearby and sat opposite him. She started going on about how Musa hated these photo shoots and was really happy this was the last one. With the lack of partner, though, she'd have to reschedule it.

"Uh huh. And I care... why?"

Mirta rolled her eyes at him as she shook her head. He hadn't thought she knew how to roll her eyes. The burgundy-haired girl was so sweet and mild-mannered, he'd assumed she would be physically incapable of rolling her eyes. "I think you care more about her than you let on."

"You would be mistaken." The look of disbelief that crossed her face was one for the books, rivaling Nabu's when Riven had first told him that the move to New York had been for love. Apparently Riven didn't look like the romantic type – whatever the fuck that meant.

After reconsidering her strategy, Mirta brought up the fact that he wanted to buy a place; that two thousand was a good addition to it for less than 8 hours of work. He hated that she was right. He never should've told her about the damn house. If she was willing to use it to for this, what else would she use it for? "Plus," Mirta added, "like Roxy said, it'll be super easy. Musa will be doing most of the work."

He thought she'd end her argument there, but apparently she had more in mind. She started commenting on how Riven struck her as someone that didn't like to be predictable, and how, in her opinion, his refusing to do it was exactly what someone that hadn't even spoken to him for five whole minutes would expect. Riven knew he was doing exactly what she wanted, but it seemed like she was ready to keep going for as long as it took to get him to agree. "You're not gonna shut up no matter how much I say no, are you?"

"Nope. I have a few more arguments lined up, and I'm sure I could think of more."

"You seemed so sweet" Riven commented wryly.

"I am sweet. I also happened to be on debate team in high school." That surprised Riven. Mirta was such a shy person that he'd expect her to be one of those people that would hurl every time they even thought about public speaking. Turned out she was good at it, who knew. "Anyways. I also think you sh-"

"Okay, okay" he interrupted, all but shoving his hand over her mouth. "If I agree, will you stop?"

"Absolutely."

"Fine. You win" he grumbled. Mirta jumped across the space between them, throwing her arms around him. He instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist to stop her falling over. She quickly pulled away and apologised for encroaching on his space before running off to tell Mr. Avalon and Roxy the good news.

Riven was trying to convince himself that this was the better decision when Mr. Avalon walked up and grabbed his hand, shaking it vigorously as he thanked him for agreeing to it. He made some comment about having called every agent he knew, and none having someone available on such short notice. Riven didn't think there'd be that many shoots going on on a Tuesday morning, but it would seem that he'd be wrong. Mr. Avalon said he would have a contract drawn up and emailed to him within minutes for Riven to read. Behind him, Mirta commented that Musa's lawyer should be CC'd in and Riven wondered why that was necessary – or if it was even allowed – but he didn't voice either concern.

It took significantly less time than Riven had thought it would for them to have all the paperwork signed. Mirta had made him talk to Musa's lawyer – some uppity-sounding woman named Griselda, a truly awful name in his opinion – so that she could explain the contract to him. He only half paid attention and nothing sounded out of place, so he signed. It was only as he was being carted off to hair and makeup – did he really need makeup? - when Mr. Avalon mentioned that Musa's spread was one of their biggest marketing campaigns and he was so thankful not to have to postpone it that it dawned on Riven that other people would see this. Including his girlfriend.

While he was forced to sit in the bedroom that was now his dressing room with two strange women who fussed about, Riven called Darcy and put her on speaker. The makeup lady had reprimanded him for putting the phone to his face, so he put Darcy on speaker. The hair one had rinsed his hair and dried it, slicking it back like he'd done – pointless, he thought. Okay, maybe hers was a bit more voluminous and styled than his had been, but did that really make that big a difference?

"I'm modeling today" he spat out, cutting right to the chase.

"Uh. Wh-what?" was all Darcy managed in response. Not that he blamed her; he'd be shocked in her position too. He explained how it had come about, stopping every now and then when the makeup lady asked him to freeze for a second or to look at her. Riven had expected Darcy to be confused, if not a bit uncertain, but he hadn't expected the loud belly laugh. "Seriously?" he grumbled. "I know it's not exactly my thing or whatever, but you don't have to be such a bi-"

"Calm down" she huffed. "Don't get all fucking whiny. It's just that I can't really see you as a model."

"Neither can I" Riven admitted after having griped silently for another minute. He could tell the two girls were trying not to pay attention to the conversation, but in such close quarters it was hard not to. Normally, he'd hang up and move elsewhere, but that wasn't really an option at the moment. "But it's good money."

"So is prostitution."

"I think I'd be a great prostitute" Riven countered.

"I guess... I mean, you're nice to look at and you're a great lay, but that personality of yours can be a turn off."

"Wow, thanks" Riven scoffed. It was nice to know that his girlfriend thought so highly of him. He knew he wasn't exactly mister sunshine-and-rainbows, but that didn't mean he was a complete asshole either. And wasn't the person that claimed to love him supposed to like his personality despite the faults? He knew Darcy was a bitch a significant portion of the time, but he still thought she was clever and funny, and, except when they fought, he never pointed out what a bitch she was.

"That's not... whatever. What company is it for?"

"Some fancy French company, I don't remember the name."

Mirta had come in forty minutes earlier to announce that they'd found someone. Mirta had been evasive when it came to who the new model was, but Musa didn't really care enough. She was just thankful that they'd found someone at all because she was not in the mood to reschedule; she just wanted to get this shoot over with and be free of her Luxure contract. It was one thing to parade around onstage in the skimpy outfits that Stella made for her, but lingerie photo shoots were something else. Stella's outfits were made to cover private bits and were nowhere near as revealing as the barely-there little pieces of fabric that hung from the closet rack behind her.

Because there was a delay in the schedule, Musa would have to find a way to fill the time. Instagram and Twitter were boring, she had no inspiration to make note of and none of her friends were available to talk. It was just past 7:30 which meant Bloom and Tecna would still be asleep, and Aisha would either be running or taking a post-run shower. According to Google, Turks and Caicos was in the same time zone which meant that Stella was likely still asleep, and if she wasn't, she was busy fucking her new husband. Jared was in California where it was 4:30, so she couldn't call him.

Nothing to occupy her time left her thinking about the fight with her dad. She supposed it wasn't much of a fight, more her overreacting to news. She couldn't help it, though; the thought of her dad with anyone other than her mother made her heart ache. It just wasn't right. She knew that it had been years since her mother had died and that he hadn't gone on a single date since. She knew that he deserved to move on and be happy. She wanted him to be happy. But if he was missing love, she'd get him a puppy. Or a kitten if he didn't want a dog. Hell, she'd get him an iguana or a monkey or a goat if he wanted.

A knock on the door forced her away from potentially researching where to get pet goats and monkeys – she'd also have to find out if those were legal; this wasn't FRIENDS, she couldn't just adopt a monkey because she felt like it. Mr. Palladium entered, informing her that they were just about ready and that she should start getting into her first outfit.

Mr. Palladium had come to see Riven a few minutes earlier after the hair and makeup girls had left. Satisfied with the way he looked, Palladium instructed Riven to get ready and that his looks were in the closet. That was actually what he'd called them – his looks. Couldn't he just say outfits or clothes like a normal person?

Riven wandered over to the closet and opened the door. He didn't understand. There were only two pairs of boxer briefs in the closet. They looked very nice, he supposed, but where were the clothes? Riven closed and reopened the closet door about twelve times, hoping that, somehow, clothes would appear. When they didn't, he checked the bathroom thinking that maybe whoever had brought them had put them there by accident.

Nothing.

There was no way he was only supposed to wear underwear?! Riven poked his head out of the bedroom and happened to catch Mr. Palladium coming out of Musa's room down the hall from his. The shorter man joined him in the room where Riven explained that he thought someone had forgotten the clothes. Mr. Palladium walked over to the closed closet, brows furrowed in confusion. He opened the door and looked back at Riven even more befuddled than before. "No, it's all here."

"But there's just underwear."

"Yes" Mr. Palladium replied slowly as if he were talking to a senile old man.

"Where's the clothes?" he snapped, gesticulating to the nearly empty closet.

Mr. Palladium's eyes darted around the room before landing on Riven's. A beat of awkwardness passed as Riven stared at the man expectantly and Mr. Palladium continued to be confused. Suddenly, his face lit up as dawning washed over him. Then he started to laugh. Riven's own confusion grew but was soon overshadowed by his frustration and irritation as Mr. Palladium continued to laugh. He balled his hands into fists, digging his short nails into his palm in an attempt to ease some of the anger. Mr. Palladium must have noticed that his laughter was angering the maroon-haired man because he cleared his throat and forced himself to stop laughing. "Luxure is a lingerie company."

Riven's mind went blank. Lingerie? Lingerie? How had Mirta neglected to mention that the shoot was for lingerie? Lingerie? He was supposed to pose in front of a camera for the world to see in his goddamn underwear. What the fuck?

"I'm sorry. I assumed you knew. Luxure is one of the top lingerie brands in the world; it's up there with La Perla and Agent Provocateur."

"I have no idea what either of those are" Riven mumbled. He was still stuck on the idea of the world seeing him in his underwear. He was by no means unconfident about his body. In fact, quite the opposite, but Riven was a private person. He liked keeping to himself, and that included himself. Having to constantly be under everyone's eyes with Musa was bad enough, but this was worse. "I can't do this."

Mr. Palladium nodded solemnly. His lips – already barely existent – were drawn in a thin line. He took a deep breath and left the room, returning mere seconds later with Mr. Avalon in tow. Riven hoped he was free; that Mr. Avalon would say that they could reschedule, find someone else to strip for them. Unfortunately, things didn't go quite as he'd hoped. Instead, Mr. Avalon – who he'd thought seemed friendly at first – was insistent that Riven had no choice. If he backed out now, he'd be sued for breach of contract.

Musa pulled at the bottom of her bodysuit, willing it to cover more of her. It wasn't that she wasn't comfortable in her body, she just preferred some things private. Sure, most of the world had already seen her nearly naked thanks to the tiny pieces of material Stella liked to call clothes, but there was a difference between a stage outfit and a photo shoot outfit. Namely, that the stage outfit would only be seen by those in the audience. And even if people recorded the show and posted it online, people had to go looking for it. This was the opposite; it would be flashed on every website, every magazine, every billboard that Luxure could get their hands on. Nobody would go looking for it; they'd be forced to look.

She was in the midst of cursing her contract – and Faragonda for convincing her it was a good idea – when Mr. Palladium knocked on her door and poked his head in. They were ready for her. Musa took a deep breath and one last look in the mirror. The mostly see-through black bodysuit was made of fishnet, with corset ribbing that, though she was told was the right size, felt way too tight for Musa's liking and a push up bra that made her look like she had far more boob than she really did. The look was completed with thigh-high stockings, black stilettos and a smokey eye. None of which was her. For a confidence boost, she'd texted the girls a picture of the look. She'd gotten heart eyes and drooling emojis back from Bloom and Aisha, a series of letters from Stella telling her that she looked S-O-F-U-C-K-I-N-G-H-P-O*-T-!-!-!, and a comment from Tecna about not sexting the group chat. Still, despite their compliments, she felt incredibly uncomfortable and hated that the world didn't consider sweatpants and a t-shirt sexy.

In her life, Musa had encountered numerous surprising moments – finding Andy with his dick in some random girl, for example. Nothing would prepare her for the shock that she would feel when she stepped into the living room to find Roxy posing Riven of all people. Was this some bad joke? Riven was not a model. Hot, sure. Still not a model. "Wha... the fuck?"

Musa looked over at Mirta, who avoided the singer's gaze, and back at the scene before her. Riven was sitting on the chair in a pair of black boxer briefs – which looked far more comfortable than her stupid getup. He was looking at Roxy as she spoke, so his head was turned away from her, which left her free to admire his body without him catching on. She told herself that it was better that she look at him now than when she was right in front of him as she took in his trim waist and abs that looked like they'd been photoshopped on, right down to the perfect – she couldn't believe it – dark maroon happy trail. She really had thought that wasn't his natural hair colour. When he moved his arm onto the back of the chair and propped his head on his hand, his bicep flexed and Musa swallowed hard, pushing away the tightening feeling in her stomach. Beside her, Mr. Avalon tried to explain that Roxy had thought Riven would be perfect for the ad – that she and Riven would look so good together – and Riven had agreed to the shoot. Musa heard every single word, but none of it was absorbed. She was too distracted by her mix of ongoing confusion, thirst, and irritation at how goddamn good he looked. What the fuck gave him the right to be sitting there looking like a fucking Greek god? Fuck him.

And fuck Roxy for suggesting him.

And Mirta for not giving her any warning when she clearly knew about it.

And Faragonda for making her agree to this because, ultimately, if not for her, Musa would never have found herself in this position. Musa forced herself to take a few deep breaths, reminding herself that she had to remain professional. She didn't want to deal with rumours of her "diva" attitude. Once she had successfully calmed her anger enough, she forced herself to remember what a jerk she thought Riven was to quell the desire to, if she was being completely candid, rip off what little clothes they had on and ride him until her thighs shook and her throat hurt. He may have been very sweet last weekend, but that didn't change the fact that he was still the same asshole that had basically told her she had nothing to offer the world.

Sometime during Musa's twisted meditation, Roxy had noticed her presence. The singer was ushered over, suddenly more self-conscious about the bodysuit than she'd been in the dressing room. Musa refused to look at him as Roxy spoke, directing her to sit on the chair's arm. Musa did as instruct while trying to remain as far from him as physically possible and not falling off the arm. A complicated task considering the arm of the chair was barely wider than her forearm.

Riven cursed whichever god had led him to this moment. He shouldn't have agreed to the modeling gig. Hell, he shouldn't have agreed to work for Musa at all. If he hadn't, he wouldn't be sitting on this goddamn chair trying not to look at her ass. It wasn't his fault, though. She was right beside him, sitting on the arm of this stupid chair, looking so fucking delicious. The bodysuit really did hug her in all the right spots, showing off a small waist that she usually hid behind baggy t-shirts, and an ass that made him salivate like a fucking Saint Bernard.

The whole thing was awkward, and knowing it was awkward only made him feel even more so. He felt like a complete idiot. Musa could clearly sense the discomfort rolling off him because she was just as tense as he was. Roxy tried everything she could to make them comfortable, but even she seemed to be losing up hope. Several feet behind her, Mr. Avalon stood over the computer looking at the pictures as they popped up on the screen. His face remained impassive but Riven had a feeling he was unhappy with the turnout.

They shifted through several poses in their black looks around the chair before being sent to change.

On his way to his dressing room, he overheard Mr. Avalon and Roxy talking about the shots. Mr. Avalon had lost hope – and frankly, that's what he got for agreeing to hire someone that had made it clear he wasn't interested – but Roxy was adamant that she could get something good. "Well, the moneys already sunk into this shoot, so might as well keep going" Mr. Avalon had sighed, taking a sip from a silver flask he'd pulled out of his suit jacket.

Musa's second look consisted of a red bra and panty set. The set was made of a delicate, nearly see-through lacy pattern for the bra, panties and suspender belt and nude thigh-high stockings with a matching trim. What really killed him were the red lips and pumps – he was a sucker for a hot girl in a pair of red shoes. He couldn't explain why, but something about the shoes – and red lingerie, and possibly the colour red in general, too – drove him wild. And then her. Musa looked so fucking good in red, it should be illegal.

This would be a fucking disaster.

Stuck up, mildly talented, over-produced princess became his mantra to stop himself from getting hard when Roxy had him sit with his back resting on the arm of the chaise lounge, and then made Musa sit between his legs with her back to him and drape herself over his chest. Til now, he'd managed not to touch her – only make it look like he was – but that changed with this pose. Thankfully, Roxy had wanted him to grab her wrist that she had Musa lay on his shoulder. His second hand was on the opposite side of the songstress, out of view of the camera, so he just rested it on his own thigh.

From her spot on the couch, Musa could see Roxy looking at the pictures with a grimace. She wasn't happy. Musa wasn't surprised; she and Riven had no chemistry, and he was visibly uncomfortable, as was she. None of those things would lead to a successful shoot.

"Okay, let's try something else." Roxy placed the camera back on its tripod and began to position the two. She pulled Musa up and had Riven shift so that his legs stretched out along the chaise. "Good. Now, Musa, I need you to straddle him."

Musa shot daggers at the photographer, though Roxy barely seemed to notice. If she did, she paid it no mind. No doubt she was used to models not liking her. Musa reluctantly positioned herself with her legs on either side of Riven's. Her body hovered above his upper thighs and, though she was nowhere near his dick, she didn't dare lower herself.

Roxy stepped back, taking in the scene. She still didn't look satisfied. Riven watched anxiously as the photographer intertwined her hands and tapped her index fingers together, a pensive look crossing her face. She called to Musa's makeup artist and whispered something to her. The green-haired girl nodded and ran to her kit, grabbing a tube of lipstick. She touched up Musa's lipstick while Musa's eyes darted around in confusion.

"Great. Now Musa, I need you to leave lipstick marks on his neck. Maybe down his shoulder and a bit on his upper chest."

If Musa had thought she'd wanted to kill Roxy before, she'd been wrong. Before, as it turned out, she'd only wanted to smack her around a few times. Now she wanted to kill her. The photographer looked at her expectantly and Mirta, just a few feet behind her, gave Musa an encouraging smile. She wanted to kill them both. They'd plotted this somehow. She didn't know why or how, but they must be up to something. Maybe she was on some stupid prank show. Had they rebooted Punk'd? Was Ashton Kutcher going to pop out somewhere and tell her it had all been an elaborate setup.

Reluctantly – far more reluctantly than when she'd moved to straddle him – Musa lowered her face to his neck. She could feel Riven tensing up underneath her, but, like a trooper, he moved his head to give her access. She gently placed her lips on his neck, leaving them there long enough for the lipstick to mark. After examining her print and deciding she was satisfied, she moved a bit lower to where his neck met his collarbone and planted a small kiss there. He took a sharp inhale, gasping at the contact. Musa felt a tightening in her stomach and smirked into the kiss. He liked that spot – that was good to know. No wait, what?

He had just barely managed to suppress the sound that threatened to escape his mouth when Musa's lips had landed above his collarbone. He could feel her lips turn upwards against his neck and he had to resist the urge to groan, whether of irritation or arousal he didn't know. He now also had to actively focus on smothering the heat that had ignited in his body. No matter how sensitive that spot was – and it was – Musa should not be affecting him at all. It didn't matter that she looked like a goddess in red or that, thanks to her lowering her torso to kiss him, he could see her ass over her shoulder, and he desperately wanted to smack it. She should not affect him.

Shifting herself backwards a bit, Musa lowered herself to kiss along his shoulder and onto his chest. He could feel her weight on his upper thighs and her heels digging into the side of his leg. He gritted his teeth and forced himself not to push her off for the sake of professionalism and a hefty paycheck. Still, he couldn't wait for her lips to be off him; he was enjoying the sensation far more than he wanted to, and far more than he should.

Once she was content – or rather, Roxy was content as she had been pushing Musa to leave more marks – Musa sat upright and brushed her hair out of her face. Her lipstick had smudged from the kisses so they'd had to wait for Selina to touch her up. Roxy had refused to let them move, claiming that they were comfortable – that had to be a joke – and, if they did move, they might not find that same comfort again.

"Alright, now Musa, move forward again." Musa obeyed. She no longer looked like she wanted to murder the photographer, but she was still unhappy. Under normal circumstances, Riven may have found some amusement in her discomfort or her desire to commit murder, but, unfortunately for him, he found himself in the same awkward position as her. Her chest landed a few inches from his, and her body hovered above his crotch. He could feel her warmth radiating onto him, but the lightness on his hips assured him that she wasn't putting weight on him. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see her looking up at the ceiling, refusing to make eye contact with him while in the incredibly uncomfortable position. He was thankful she was because he didn't particularly want to be looking at her either.

"Riven, put your left hand on her thigh." Violet and navy eyes snapped at the photographer, who merely laughed. Roxy argued that the photo shoot wouldn't seem natural if they refused to have any physical contact whatsoever. Mr. Avalon walked to Roxy and whispered something to her, but she waved him off. Riven was certain he was having his doubts about this whole idea, and he was inclined to agree that it had been a terrible idea. Still, he was in now, and with that damned contract, there was no backing out unless he somehow found a way to also be in a car accident, so he begrudgingly rested his hand on Musa's upper thigh.

"Awesome, now could you just rest your other hand on her lower back, and I don't care if you guys aren't comfortable being this close to each other or whatever. For this shot to be believable, you do need to have some sort of physical contact. At least enough for it to look like you're into each other."

"If you can tell we're not comfortable, why are we doing this?" Musa snapped.

"Because we need at least one decent picture before we leave" Roxy shot back. Musa took a heavy sigh, suppressing the urge to let her irritation get the best of her. Satisfied that Musa wasn't arguing with her, Roxy once again instructed Riven to place his hand on her lower back and told him to pull Musa in closer. "Like you'd do with someone you actually want to sleep with. Just... pretend you want to sleep with each other so that we can all go home happy."

Riven placed his hand on her back. He could feel the soft lacy fabric of the suspender belt against his fingers. He'd assumed that her positioning was sturdy, and that he'd be met with some resistance pulling her in. What happened instead was that Musa ended up falling into him, with her hands landing on his chest to stop herself from crashing into him entirely.

She pushed herself up and away from him, only to be stopped by the hand on her back. His eyes trailed up her body, lingering on the few freckles on her shoulder, and taking in the graceful elegance of her neck. He'd never noticed, but she had a tattoo of three small music notes behind her left ear. For the very first time since they'd met, the two had no choice but to look at each other. Their faces were so close that there was no looking past each other and hoping it came off as eye contact. Riven had never noticed how blue her eyes were; like sapphires had been put in her head instead of eyes. They were breathtaking and, no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't pull away.

Musa's irritation had changed to a burning sensation the moment her hands landed on his chest. His skin was smoother than she'd expected, and she had to force herself to push away instead of letting her hands trail along his chest and over his abs. His hold on her back stopped her short of pushing away from him to a comfortable enough position, leaving her with her pelvis and abdomen against his. She could feel the bristly hairs of his happy trails against her stomach and the warmth of his body radiating through hers. Their eyes met and Musa was shocked by the violet colour; she'd noticed his eyes multiple times since they'd met, but she'd never had a chance – or desire – to look at them more closely. They had to be one of the most beautiful colours she'd ever seen. More captivating than the colour was the world that lived in them; like every aspect of his personality – even the ones that she'd never seen, and likely never would – lived in his eyes. Every heartache, laugh, loss and victory was imprinted in his eyes, dancing around each other in perfect sync. For the first time since she'd met him, Musa felt the need to dive into him and discover everything he had to offer.

Instinctively, his right hand reached up to push the loose, wavy hair that had fallen into her face behind her ear. His hand slid along her jaw and neck, relishing in the silky softness of her skin and pulling her closer to him. The fingers on her back began to brush along the hem of the suspender belt, daring her to stop him. He felt her hands, still placed firmly on his chest, curl into him; nails digging into his skin. His eyes flitted to her ruby red lips, and he couldn't help but think of how soft and sweet they looked, before locking back onto her eyes. His heart pounded in his chest, but he didn't feel it, too overwhelmed by the gentle scent of her perfume – vanilla mixed with something sweet and floral that he couldn't place. His thumb ran over her cheek, stopping to caress her lower lip. Musa moved in closer. He could feel her breath on his chin and the rise and fall of her chest as her breath became heavy against him. She was so close; one move and he could kiss her, could discover what her lips tasted like and how it felt to have her tongue dance with his. One move and -

"We've got it!" Roxy announced, breaking the spell that had come over the two.

Musa became acutely aware of how close she and Riven were – their faces a mere inch apart – and pulled away. She removed her hands from Riven's chest, ignoring the marks her nails had left on his skin. "So, we're done?" she asked, suddenly feeling incredibly hot and self-conscious. Mr. Avalon confirmed that they had indeed gotten very many good shots – including possibly the perfect one – from the last shoot, and that they were done. Musa clambered out of Riven's lap as quickly as she could, not wanting him to feel the wetness that had started to seep into the bottom of her panties. She sped off to the dressing room, ignoring Roxy asking if they wanted to see the shots.

She shut the door behind her and leaned against it as she tried to slow her breathing. This was not good. Riven was a jerk. A stubborn, arrogant, hot as all fucking hell jerk. That was it. There was no more to him. No hidden sweet side, no vulnerability, no issues besides his absolute shit personality. There was no pool to dive into, nothing to discover.

When her breath had returned to normal and the heat in her cheeks had faded, Musa stripped out of the lingerie and back into her clothes. Never in her life had she been happier to put on her loose jeans and oversized t-shirt. The exposure was uncomfortable enough, but the sensations that the photo shoot had awakened in her were far too much.

It was nearly one in the afternoon when they were back in the car. Wizgiz asked how the shooting had gone, but Musa only gave him a curt fine. Riven and Mirta said nothing, so Wizgiz, thankfully, didn't push it. Mirta was dropped at home, and she and Riven were brought back to the penthouse.

As soon as she got in, Musa locked herself in her room and turned the music up high. She didn't care if she disturbed Riven, and she assumed he wouldn't come in since he'd barely looked at her since the shoot ended. She waited a few minutes to see if she was right. Once she was assured that she was, she ducked down and reached for the storage box under her bed. She'd avoided these since Riven had moved in because she didn't want him hearing her, but she was past caring. She needed to get this out of her system before it became too much. Musa stripped out of her clothes and locked herself in the bathroom with the shower running – extra precaution in case Riven did barge in demanding she turn down the music – and turned on her vibrator.

1. Luxure is the French word for lust