The fabric isn’t as thick as I originally thought.
Gavin is hard as steel as he walks toward me with a shit-eating grin on his face.
I can’t breathe. Can’t speak. Am rendered immobile. My face is hot, and not from the sun beaming down on us for hours. My limbs have forgotten how to function and my jaw is stuck in the open position.
Breathe, Cora. Inhale… Exhale… You can do this.
I can’t do this.
Shit. Fuck. Damn.
The camera hangs suspended in my hand, just below my rosy face, as my sole focus is on his body. Yes, my eyes are zeroed in on the girth below the now see-through cotton. But my periphery catches the ripples of his lower abdomen, his V more visible and pointing directly at his pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.
It’s not as if this is the first time I have seen Gavin in all his glory. But the last time I saw him anywhere remotely close to naked, we were sixteen and his body looked nothing like the one before me. The Gavin from my memories is good-looking and desirable and made my heart sing.
But this older version of Gavin…
Heat rises in my chest, trickling throughout my torso and seeping into my limbs. It isn’t as simple as me being turned on by his appearance—I have seen numerous attractive men over the years that never sparked this incendiary feeling inside me. Part of it is visual, but another part is the knowledge that he only has eyes for me. That he only wants me. That every part of him is reserved for me.
“You okay, baby? You look a little heated,” he teases then adds a soft chuckle. “We can take a break. Grab some water.”
I stick my tongue out at him as if we are kids again, following it up with a goofy face. Bringing the camera to my eye, I drag in a deep breath.
This is work, Cora. Focus on the work aspect.
“Nope. I’m good,” I tell him, coughing to clear my throat. “Although, I’m not sure how many of these shots will be usable.”
Through the lens, I see his head cock to the side as his brows pinch together. The shutter closes at a rapid-fire pace, photo after photo taken and stored on the SD card. He steps closer and closer as I try to focus the lens higher and higher.
A hundred or so frames later, Gavin speaks up. “Why?”
For a moment, I am confused by his question. Not sure what he is asking about. “Why what?”
“Why won’t some of the shots be usable?”
I continue shooting as I speak, not taking my eye away from the viewfinder. “Well, from what I’ve been told, this shoot is for magazines everywhere. An ad campaign for the clothing and accessories.”
He nods. “Yeah. So?”
“And I think it’s meant to reach a wide age range, starting with teens.”
“Okay…”
He is not picking up on this. Not one bit. And damnit, I am going to have to come right out and say it. Internally, my hand slaps my forehead. Just say it. We are both adults, for fuck’s sake.
“Gavin, parents won’t want their teenage kids looking at an ad where the model has an erection, which is one-hundred-percent visible through the wet material. Many of the older female population may enjoy it, maybe some men too, but that won’t be the only eyes on the ad.”
His laugh is throaty, his abs contracting in ways that coil my insides tight. I continue taking photo after photo, capturing more candid shots. When he finishes laughing, he walks the small distance to me. My camera still glued to my face as he approaches, snapping as many photos as possible. He slowly pushes the camera aside and tips my chin up so we are eye to eye.
“Do you know how hard it is to stand practically naked in front of you? Knowing your job is to look at me. To take photos of me. Your visual assessment has me hungrier for you with each press of the shutter release.”
I swallow hard, the sound from the action echoes loud in my head and I wonder if he hears it too. His pupils dilate more, his steely-gray irises darkening with each passing second. If he believes it is challenging to be in front of the camera, he has no idea how difficult it is to be on the other side. To view him through the lens and attempt to keep every thought I have as practiced as possible. To remind myself I am working and to be on my best behavior.
“It’s not so easy from where I’m standing either. Having to maintain complete photographer-client idiosyncrasies while I snap photos of the one person who incinerates my insides. When—right now—the only thing I want to do is trace my fingers over every line of your body.”
Neither of us looks away. His chest rises and falls faster with each breath he takes. The friction of his chest brushing against my nipples builds a delicious, insatiable heat between my legs. Right here, on the white sands of the small beachfront, I want him to kiss me. Want to feel the heat of his lips brush against mine. Against my skin, dow
n my throat and…