Page 11 of The Girlfriend Zone

Then a few more clicks.

I break the pose and glance over at him, and he speaks first. “Did that work for you?”

NotHow’d I do?

His concern is only me. On giving me what I want. Or really, what I need.

Normally, I’d check the back of the camera myself, but nothing about this shoot is normal anymore, least of all the charge in the air, the ions crackling between us, the heat shimmering in this space. “Do you want to see?” I offer as I rise.

He’s up in no time, standing next to me as we peer at the viewfinder together. He’s close enough that I can smell him. Clean and soapy, with a hint of sandalwood or something darker—something earthy and warm. The scent wraps around me like a slow, steady pulse and it goes straight to my head, fogging up everything else.

I’d like to say I’m affected by scent as much as the next girl, but I think I’m more affected. What I’ve lost in one sense, I more than compensate for with others. My eyes rival an eagle’s. My nose is nearly as good as a dog’s. Sometimes that’s annoying. Today, it’s intoxicating andheady as I breathe in that hint of cologne or aftershave while I scroll through the pictures.

In every picture, I’m soft, a little out of focus, but he’s not. Miles is looking only at me, like he doesn’t want to miss a single small shift I make from shot to shot, my fingers in my hair, my hand sliding down my chest.

Yes. This is exactly what I wanted to capture—the moment when desire ignites. The moment before it turns into touch. The anticipation of what’s to come.

“It’s good,” I say softly but what I really mean isyou’re good.

And that’s hard to say. I’m wary of getting too personal, even though everything with him feels very,verypersonal.

“Yeah, I think your model’s delivering exactly what you’re looking for,” Miles says, his deep voice sending a fresh wave of heat through me. He turns, his eyes locking on mine. “What do you think? It’s like I want her, right?”

He’s so steady, so sure, and that certainty in his tone both excites me and knocks me off-kilter. He’s waiting for me to take my turn. Wanting me to keep going.

I really shouldn’t do this. I really shouldn’t flirt with him. I’m crossing a line here—my own line of trust on a first date. I don’t like to get this close. And yet…

“Yes. You look like you want her. You seem to be nailing it on the first try,” I reply, throwing the flirt right back.

His grin deepens. “Do you want me to look like I’m about to get up and prowl toward you next? Like I need to have you?”

I swallow again, the tension rising between us. He’s remembering everything I told him. And he’s taking control. “I do.”

He moves to the edge of the bed, sitting down, elbowson his knees, hands clasped just under his chin. A strong, masculine pose. Full of energy, even though he’s not moving. “Will this work?”

God, he looks like a sinful portrait already. I’ll call itA Man on Edge.

Actually, this wasn’t on the shot list—him solo. But I want it anyway. Improvising, I grab the camera from the tripod, moving closer to him, snapping a couple of shots of him up close and personal. His face is so interesting, from the scruff lining his jaw, to the nose that’s nearly straight, but not quite, to the darkest of brown eyes that crinkle slightly at the corners behind those glasses. He’s not perfect, but those imperfections are doing it for me. I inch even closer, needing to capture him from every angle, wanting to record everything he’s giving right now.

I stop. “Just feeling inspired,” I say, explaining myself.

“Want to show them to me?”

It’s dripping with invitation. I narrow the distance, sitting next to him on the bed. He leans in, his shoulder bumping mine as we look at the camera together. I can barely concentrate on the images on the back of the device. He’s even closer to me than last time we checked out the shots. So close that if I turn my face, he might capture my lips in a kiss.

I blink off the thought as I pull away so I can set up the camera again on the tripod.

“So, now you want me to stalk over to you?” he asks, reminding me of the pics I want to get.

The reason we’re doing this.

To test my skills. To try new things. To capture a man in motion, a man who can’t stand to be away from his woman. It’s an action shot of sorts, and there should be just enough room to capture him moving toward me.

Well, here goes. “I do, but it’ll be a little different this time,” I say.

“How?”

Am I doing this? Yes. I’m doing it. I look at those dark brown eyes, so soulful, so heated. “Sit down and find out.”

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