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“You two ready? The day won’t last forever,” Alyson snaps.
“Yep,” I snap in return. “Just discussing things while we waited for you.” I am over her shit already. It is too damn early to be bitter, but my lack of sleep is making me grouchier than usual. “Follow me,” I command, turning and walking away, not looking to see if either of them follows.
I understand her pissy state—I do. But being a bitch because someone chooses their happiness over yours is just plain shitty. Yeah, her job won’t be as easy going forward, but it’s manageable. Several professions nowadays don’t require people to reside in the same city, let alone state.
We walk a while, maybe thirty minutes. None of us mutters a word. The silence between the three of us borders on awkward. But the quiet gives me time to replay Gavin’s earlier confession. To come to the realization that he has missed me more than I previously suspected. But if he has pined for me all these years, why has he not done anything to remedy it? Why didn’t he reach out to me? He should have at least tried to explain what changed. It makes no sense. In the beginning, sure. Neither of us had the means to visit each other. But if he has wanted to return so badly, what has stopped him? His job? His mom? Maybe someone else?
The thought of another woman being the reason has my stomach churning. No doubt Gavin spent time with or dated other women over the last thirteen years. I’d be shocked if he hadn’t. But the idea of him being in a relationship now has bile coating my throat. So, I shove it aside and file it in the ask Gavin later part of my mind.
A quarter mile down the trail, I stop in my tracks, and Gavin runs into my backside.
“Sorry,” I mutter. “I should’ve said something to let you know we were here.”
“It’s okay, baby.” He kisses my temple before correcting his stance.
Behind us, I hear Alyson huff and mumble something under her breath. Honestly, if she doesn’t chill the hell out, I am going to open my mouth and bark out things I cannot take back. I won’t regret a single word, but they will reflect poorly on my professionalism. And today is not the day to test my sanity.
Alyson slides a collapsible chair from a bag, opens it and plops down. After a minute, her focus shifts from me and Gavin to her incessantly dinging cell phone. Whatever keeps her attention focused elsewhere is good with me. Because every ounce of my rational side prays she remains silent the entire shoot. For her sake and mine.
This section of the trail is near the water, so we have the ability to get photos in the greenery, near the water, and a combination of both. The location is absolutely perfect. Not only for the scenery, but also because today’s shoot entails more skin. More skin than I typically shoot. More skin than I have probably seen on another guy in years. And not just any skin, but Gavin’s skin.
Please, powers that be, let me make it through today without doing or saying something stupid. Please.
Hence the need for partial seclusion. Alyson is nearby, but not close enough to
see us in clear view. Let alone, hear us.
Don’t get me wrong, I have taken intimate pictures before. Couples who wanted to capture special moments such as pregnancy. Women—and men—who wanted to do something special for their significant other such as boudoir sessions. Boudoir sessions are the extent of the raciness in my portfolio. And they were saucy, steamy, and intimate as hell, but very different from this.
Because this is Gavin. The only guy I have loved. The only person I have imagined having a future with. And the one guy who ran away with my heart thirteen years ago and held it hostage.
The first shots are simplistic. Him in board shorts against the foliage backdrop. Some with the waterfront at his backside. All reflecting the strength of his chest and arms without flaunting it. The shorts rest low on his hips, the definition of his lower abdominals peeking at the front of the waistband. I swallow and do my best to maintain composure. After I’m satisfied with the number of shots taken with all backdrops, we prep for the next set of photos.
When he drops his shorts, and I glimpse the thick-banded boxer briefs hugging his toned gluts and upper quads, I swallow. Hard. My insides swirl with a new thread of desire. My thighs clench together as I gawk at the outline of him in the branded underwear. And for a moment, I forget I am here to do a job.
I am so fucked.
When my eyes come back to his, a teasing smile occupies his face. Not only was I checking out the lines and definitions of his body, but I was caught doing so. And he is eating it up.
Should I be embarrassed? Normally, the answer would be one-hundred-percent yes. If it were any other client, I would be apologizing endlessly. But with Gavin, I wear my ogling with pride. It’s difficult not to smile back at him. And let’s get real, Gavin is hot as hell.
Bringing the camera to my eye, I flush as I stare through the lens. He is enjoying this way too much. It is written all over him—how he flexes his muscles and contorts his body, how he eats me alive with his eyes, and how the prideful smirk refuses to leave his lips. I inhale deep, realizing I have had the camera pressed to my face for more than a minute without taking a single photo.
And he knows it.
“See something you like, baby?” His smugness penetrates the air and drifts my way.
Don’t answer him. Stay strong. Keep your mouth shut. Don’t…
“Maybe,” I tease. “Still up for debate.”
His laugh pierces the silence of the pathway and echoes through the trees and out to the water. While not posing, I hold down the shutter and capture Gavin in his natural state. Candid photos have always been my favorite, although most of them are kept in my own private collection. The shots just taken will more than likely never leave my laptop. And I will enjoy them for years to come.
After we capture enough shots along the path, we walk to the small section of beach. Some poses on the sand before he enters the water. Several poses while he is in the water, the waistband and a couple inches of the cotton below it visible. And then he strolls out of the water, prepared for the shots of him lying wet in the sand near the surf.
In this moment, three things hit me with complete clarity.
Gavin is wearing white underwear.
