My laugh is awkward and forced. He smiles wider.
“You don’t have to be shy,” he says. “It’s just me.”
I nod. “I know.”
“Are you uncomfortable?”
In the best way.“No.”
Quit sexualizing him. You’re making it weird.
“Good.”
This is one of the most arousing nights I’ve experienced in a while. It’s hotter than any foreplay I had with Jason, yet Logan and I are both fully clothed. I remind myself that the tension between us is in my imagination only. Dad always said I was great at playing make-believe.
My gaze travels to his neck and broad shoulders, tracing the tattoos that peek out of his collar. “Eyes on me, remember.”
I refocus. “Sorry.”
“Don’t apologize. You’re doing great.”
My inhibitions lower every time he praises me. He pauses shooting to stand, retreating a few steps. “Okay, now sit up, lean back on your palms, and pull your knees up.”
I switch to a sitting position, and he drops to a crouch in front of me.
“Have you ever considered doing boudoir photography?” He can create a vibe, that’s for sure.
He smirks. “Inviting women over to strip down and let me take my time with them? No, but it sounds like fun. I like where your head’s at.”
I huff a breath, ignoring the tinge of jealousy. “You just ruined it.”
“I’m only teasing you.” He laughs. “It’s cute you think I’d photograph anyone else like this.” His massive hand cups the back of my calf, and he slides it over a few inches, then winks at me. “Keep your thighs open.”
Logan is sexy as hell when he’s behind a lens, bossing me around. Especially when he uses that calm, controlled tone—the one that makes me want to push back, just to see what happens.
He lowers his camera, eyes fixed on me. It’s not professional, hell, it’s predatory, like he’s been imagining stripping me down and taking his time.What is he waiting for?
“Aren’t you going to take the photo?” I mumble.
“This one’s not for the camera. This one stays with me—safe in my head, where I can look at it whenever I want.”
Holy hell.
His voice is quiet but rough. It’s what I imagine he sounds like first thing in the morning, that sexy rasp after a night of little sleep. The image of waking up naked next to him forms in my thoughts.No, no way.I shake my head. Blistering heat and nervous giggles bubble to the surface, which only adds to my embarrassment.
“You’re such a freak.”
My laughter seems to break Logan out of his silly trance. He raises his camera again, taking a couple photos.
“You like it,” he whispers from behind the lens.
My teeth bite into my lower lip as a flutter spreads throughout my chest. He’s right . . .I kinda do. Logan hits the shutter at least half a dozen times in quick succession. I blink out of the haze. Shit. I shouldn’t have had that old-fashioned. I’mfartoo relaxed. This is getting out of control, he must be messing with me.
Logan delves a hand into my hair again, fluffing it up. It’s hard to resist closing my eyes and giving in to the sensation. “When was the last time you posed?”
I clear my throat. “Not since college, for figure painting.”
“Nude?”
