Camera Chemistry (Love Through a Lens, #0.5)

by Chelsea Curto

The photo shoot isn’t a date by any means. It’s a moral obligation to help a friend. Besides, it’s not like the guy and I would hit it off and fall in love.

“Thank you for convincing me to do the shoot. This is going to be a good thing.” Jeremiah beams. “Wait until you see his smile.”

She’s a fan of praise? I really am a lucky fucking bastard.

I want him to make me feel like I’m the only one in the world, if only for a little while.

“Don’t think for a second your body is anything less than goddamn perfect, because it is.”

“If there weren’t any cameras here,” he continues, lips blazing a tantalizing path down the column of my throat, “if there wasn’t an audience watching us…” “What would you do?” I ask. It’s a prod and a push, a nudge to get him to be specific in his verbal pursuit. It’s how we got here in the first place, a move I do not regret. “I’d take your bra off. I’d slide your underwear down next, taking my time until you were naked and at my mercy. Then, I’d worship your body. I’d wrap your legs around my neck and bury my face between your thighs.” His thumb catches on my bottom lip, pulling it down. “I’m starving, and I want to feast on you.”

“I want to lay you out and study you, Maggie, committing every line and dip and curve to memory so I can confirm my suspicions. Every inch of you is beautiful. And if you were mine, I’d remind you of that every second of every day. Through my words. With my hands. With my mouth. With my eyes. Repeatedly, until the message stuck.”

“It’s a one-night thing. That’s it.” ‘Twenty-four hours,” I propose. “Even better. I’ll cook you dinner. Then I’ll eat you out on my counter.”

looking at me for her next set of directions. I tilt my head to the side. “Try again, Maggie.” “What?” She frowns. “What did I do wrong?” “You want the world to see you, don’t you? Face the windows and spread your legs. I didn’t get to finish my dessert, and now the whole city can watch while I do.”

“Lie back and relax. Open your legs. Let me see that pretty pussy of yours.”

“I like hearing you say my name. But I’d like it even more if you screamed it.”

“That’s my fucking girl.”

“I could touch you for the rest of my life and it would never be enough, Maggie,”

“What made you pursue the medical field, then?” “A kid in middle school said girls weren’t as smart as boys. He told me girls should be teachers, because it’s easy, and only boys get to do the hard jobs. As if teaching is easy. My sister is in education, and you couldn’t pay me to put up with the shit she does. Teachers are miracle workers.”

“My brother is in education, too. You’re right. Their profession is wrongfully shit on. I wouldn’t last a day in a classroom. Did you ever track the douchebag down and tell him about your success?” “I did one better. I sent him an invitation to my med school graduation. And when the news article came out about me accepting my current role, I forwarded it to him on Facebook.”

“I don’t want any woman,” I say. “I want her.”

“Now, Maggie, this was out of your element, yes? Clearly you’re not a model.”

umm rude