Whispered Desires

Chapter 5: The muse

JASMINE

I knew the photoshoot would be tough.

But I didn't know I'd feel like a flaming hot torch, fueled by the ridiculously good-looking Ryan Reynolds impersonator on the beach right now.

Mitchell just knows what he's doing, somehow. One might think he's a professional model, not a tennis icon, with the way he presents himself. The way he moves, plays with the camera, knows just how to throw the right looks... It's absolutely astounding.

And it surely doesn't help that his eyes find mine every single second they're not directed at the lens. I think I already came a few times from just watching his muscles move and glimmer in the sun, from the way he smirks when he sees my flushed cheeks as a reaction to the sight in front of me.

So unprofessional, Jasmine. So unprofessional.

"Alright," I clear my throat, "Can you get changed into the white one, too? We'll make a few more with that one, and then we're done for the day."

The grin on Mitchell's face tells me he's very fond of that idea, and he quickly nods his head, shooting me a wink before he jogs back into the building.

God, he jogs like he's in a damn commercial, too...

"Look," Shannon suddenly approaches me, tossing some hair over her shoulder as she crosses her arms in front of her chest. "I don't know what your deal is, but you have to stop hitting on Mitch. It's desperate, really, and you aren't his type, anyway."

I almost laugh at her statement, looking through the pictures I already took to make sure I get enough I can work with, completely disregarding the way her eyes bore into my skull when I answer, "And you mean to tell me how not to act like a desperate, needy bitch? Thank you, but I think I'll get my advice from someone more qualified for the job..."

She gasps, and I can only imagine how she dramatically throws her hand on her chest, acting like I didn't just state the utter truth. "Who do you think you are?"

Her question now makes me look up at her, and damn was I right about her dramatically shocked stance. Barbie stands here, lips shaped into an O, one hand on her chest while the other is propped on her hip.

Why are they always so predictable?

"I know exactly who I am. My name is Jasmine Watson, but you should know that already, shouldn't you? I mean, it is your job, after all... Or did you lose that last brain cell of yours when you opened your legs for Kilian Rogers last night?"

She gasps again, almost staggering backward from how dramatically she slaps her hand on her chest, "You can't say shit like that! I will..."

"I don't care whatever the fuck you think you'll do, Barbie. You don't tell me how I live my life - No one does. Do you understand that?"

I can almost hear how her jaw drops to the ground, and as much as this woman makes my skin crawl, I also feel accomplished as hell right now. I enjoy moments like these, those moments when people realize they can't fuck with me. They'll regret it if they do.

"Ooh, catfight! Yes!"

"Oh god, no..." I mutter, turning around to see Kilian walk up to us with a wide grin on his face.

"Ladies, what's the issue? I'm sure we can talk it out, right?" He walks right up to Shannon, throwing one arm around her shoulder as he looks at me. And damn, the second those brown eyes focus on mine I literally see the fire in them, memories of last night flooding my brain as he takes me in.