Through the Lens (Click Duet #1) (Bay Area Duet Series), Persephone Autumn [read aloud books TXT] 📗

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.

The fabric isn’t as thick as I originally thought.

Gavin is hard as steel as he walks toward me with a shit-eating grin on his face.

I can’t breathe. Can’t speak. Am rendered immobile. My face is hot, and not from the sun beaming down on us for hours. My limbs have forgotten how to function and my jaw is stuck in the open position.

Breathe, Cora. Inhale… Exhale… You can do this.

I can’t do this.

Shit. Fuck. Damn.

The camera hangs suspended in my hand, just below my rosy face, as my sole focus is on his body. Yes, my eyes are zeroed in on the girth below the now see-through cotton. But my periphery catches the ripples of his lower abdomen, his V more visible and pointing directly at his pot of gold at the end of the rainbow.

It’s not as if this is the first time I have seen Gavin in all his glory. But the last time I saw him anywhere remotely close to naked, we were sixteen and his body looked nothing like the one before me. The Gavin from my memories is good-looking and desirable and made my heart sing.

But this older version of Gavin…

Heat rises in my chest, trickling throughout my torso and seeping into my limbs. It isn’t as simple as me being turned on by his appearance—I have seen numerous attractive men over the years that never sparked this incendiary feeling inside me. Part of it is visual, but another part is the knowledge that he only has eyes for me. That he only wants me. That every part of him is reserved for me.

“You okay, baby? You look a little heated,” he teases then adds a soft chuckle. “We can take a break. Grab some water.”

I stick my tongue out at him as if we are kids again, following it up with a goofy face. Bringing the camera to my eye, I drag in a deep breath.

This is work, Cora. Focus on the work aspect.

“Nope. I’m good,” I tell him, coughing to clear my throat. “Although, I’m not sure how many of these shots will be usable.”

Through the lens, I see his head cock to the side as his brows pinch together. The shutter closes at a rapid-fire pace, photo after photo taken and stored on the SD card. He steps closer and closer as I try to focus the lens higher and higher.

A hundred or so frames later, Gavin speaks up. “Why?”

For a moment, I am confused by his question. Not sure what he is asking about. “Why what?”

“Why won’t some of the shots be usable?”

I continue shooting as I speak, not taking my eye away from the viewfinder. “Well, from what I’ve been told, this shoot is for magazines everywhere. An ad campaign for the clothing and accessories.”

He nods. “Yeah. So?”

“And I think it’s meant to reach a wide age range,