“You want to do it now?”
She gave the smallest nod. “If you’re still game.”
“Krista,” he said, his voice roughening, “you have no idea.”
He grabbed the camera, slinging the strap around his neck.
Krista didn’t wait. She crossed the room like she’d been planning this for hours, hands sliding up his chest, rising onto her toes, claiming the kiss that let him know exactly how much she wanted this.
It would’ve been far too easy to let go, to forget the photos entirely, with his hand on her hip, pulling her closer.
But he forced himself to step back. “Alright. If we’re doing this, we’re doing it right,” he said, all photographer now. “You trust me?”
“Completely,” she whispered.
That nearly undid him.
“Good. Start by facing the window. Turn your head just a little. Perfect. Hands on the sill, relaxed.”
She moved into position, backlit by the halo of the streetlamp outside. He adjusted his aperture, focused, and clicked.
The sound of the shutter echoed softly in the quiet space.
“You’re beautiful,” he murmured. “Now…Let the dress fall off one shoulder.”
She did.
He clicked again. “Now both.”
The black fabric slid down her arms. Beneath it, black lace clung delicately, nearly sheer—just like he’d imagined. His fingers ached to touch, but he stayed behind the lens. For now.
She turned toward him, hesitance flashing for half a second. He lowered thecamera.
“You okay?”
Krista nodded. “Just…never done anything like this.”
“You’re perfect. Stunning. I’m struggling to keep my hands to myself.”
That made her smile. She reached behind, unzipping the dress the rest of the way, letting it pool around her ankles.
Joe sucked in a breath.
“Hands on top of your head. Ankles crossed. Head tipped up.”
He circled her slowly, camera clicking, taking her in. Taking in the gentle arch of her back, the cascade of hair over her shoulder, the lace hugging her hips, and her breasts rising and falling with every breath.
But there was only so much he could take.
He lowered the camera slowly, letting it hang against his chest.
“Come here,” he said, voice low and rough.
Krista’s eyes widened just slightly—but she came.
He met her halfway, backing her gently against the wall beside the window. Moonlight spilled in, soft and silver, painting her skin in light and shadow. She looked ethereal, dreamlike.
“Still okay?” he asked.
