“Don’t move.”
I blink.
“What?”
But he’s already lifting his phone, angling it slightly, his other hand tightening at my waist to hold me where I am as he snaps a photo.
I freeze instinctively.
“Jackson...”
He pulls the phone back, studying it.
And then, he grins.
“That’s perfect.”
I narrow my eyes slightly.
“What do you mean it’s perfect?”
He turns the screen slightly so I can see.
It’s not my face. Not really.
It’s him, his chest, his jawline, the edge of his mouth, and my arms around him. My hands at his chest.
Intimate.
Claiming.
Subtle.
“Oh my god,” I mutter.
He’s already typing.
“This is the one I want to put up.”
“Jackson.”
“My one and only,” he says, almost to himself as he finishes the caption.
Then he posts it.
Just like that. I stare at him.
“You’re ridiculous.”
He looks up at me, completely unbothered.
“I’ve got to post,” he shrugs. “But I’m upgrading.”
“To what?” I ask dryly.
He grins.
“Relationship traps.”
