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He raises one of his brows, and I quickly press my finger over the shutter, getting the perfect shot of that smug smile of his. “Do I feel soft to you?”
“You’re not being serious about this,” I chastise, snapping another photo.
“I’m never joking when I’m talking about my dick.” Suddenly his smile falls, he pulls his hand from under his head and tries to get up, but I don’t budge. “Wait, you’re not really planning to submit those photos to your professor, are you?”
“Maybe I will, maybe I won’t.” I shrug.
“You can’t do that.”
“Says who?”
“Says me. If the guys were to find out…”
“Can you see any of your friends attending a gallery showing? And that is if I get it. Besides, chill. I had way better models than you, and I’m still not happy with the results. This is just for fun.”
“I think I’m offended.”
“Of course you are.”
Prescott lets out a sigh, “Just for fun?”
“Or practice.” I wink at him. “Now, will you stop wiggling and let me shoot?”
“I guess so.”
“Great.” Sliding my leg, I get off the bed and look at him. Prescott’s leaning his chin against his palm as he watches me work.
Click.
“Lose the shirt.”
He raises his brow but doesn’t comment as he slowly sits upright and pulls his shirt over his head in that sexy way only guys know how.
Abs peeking under the material.
Click.
Bicep bulging as he grabs the back of his shirt.
Click.
The material sliding over his torso and revealing all the golden skin and wicked grin of his.
Click. Click. Click.
“Having fun?”
“Yup.”
It’s the truth. This whole gallery thing has been on my mind, and I haven’t had a chance to do something just for the sake of it. I missed it.
Spotting the football peeking from under the bed, I crouch down and pull it out. “Catch.”
The football slips easily from my fingers, and I raise my camera just in time to capture Prescott catching the ball.
“What should I do with this?” he asks, throwing it in the air.
“Just play with it for a bit.”
