Page 93 of A Shot at Love
“Gemma?”
She bit down on the inside of her cheek and couldn’t for the life of her understand why she was nervous about asking him something she asked people every day of her life.
“Baby, what’s wrong?”
She stared across the bed at him. “C-Can I ask you something?”
“Anything.”
She sat on the edge and twisted her hands in front of her. When Ky separated them and brought one to his lips, she practically melted from the inside out. He didn’t push, just waited, patiently.
“Would you consider, I mean…would you let me...Oh, hell.”
With a gentle yank, he pulled her closer and cupped her cheek with his hand. “Baby, what’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I just, well, I want to photograph you. Like this.” She waved her other hand in the direction of his body.
His eyes went wide. He looked down at his naked form and Gemma realized he was already more than half aroused again.
“Like this? As in naked?” His mouth tripped down a little at the corners, the expression in his eyes, wary.
She nodded. “You have such a perfect body. It’s made for being photographed.”
He shook his head and glanced down at himself. “My ego is saying thanks, but my common sense is telling me this isn’t a good idea.”
“I was afraid you’d say that.”
“Gemma, I’m a federal agent. I can’t have naked pictures of me,” he swiped his hand in the air, “lying around. Or worse, published.”
Gemma pulled up her knees and crawled closer to him. “No, they wouldn’t be. I promise that. I just want to capture you on film. Just for me.”
His eyes went half closed at the same time Gemma noticed his erection grow. She licked her lips, swallowed, and edged nearer to him.
“You’ve seen my photographs.”
He nodded, his body staying still.
“You’ve even said they’re good.”
“What I said was they’re amazing. Good doesn’t do your talent any kind of justice.”
She couldn’t have prevented the pleased smile from forming if she tried. Gemma knew she was talented, but hearing the praise come from Ky’s lips sent a battalion of excited butterflies roaring through her stomach.
“I won’t show the pictures to anyone, only you, so you don’t have to worry about them being seen.”
“Pictures? Plural? I thought you only wanted one.”
She cocked her head and winked an eye closed. With her bottom lip between her teeth, she regarded him. “I think I told you when we first met that to get the shot you truly want, a photographer needs to take many along a continuum.”
He nodded. “Facial expressions change by the moment. I remember.”
“So, that’s why I say pictures instead of picture.”
What she didn’t add was the thought that even just one photograph of him in this state of undress and—gulp—arousal, would be perfect.
She waited for his answer, hoping it was the one she wanted to hear.
With a confused shake of his head, he finally said, “Okay. But I want your word no one sees what you do except for me.”
“You have it.”
She grabbed her camera and adjusted the settings.
“What do you want me to do?” he asked. “Pose? Or just lie here?”
“Just lay back. Perfect. Look at me and think about something that makes you happy.”
Through the viewfinder she saw his eyes go half closed, the same uber-sexy and hot twist of his lips that sent her pulse bounding, form across his mouth. She could feel the desire coursing from within him through the lens.
In rapid succession she fired off a dozen shots of his face and torso. From this angle, he looked like a statue, carved to perfection from polished marble, the muscles in his chest and abs cut and perfectly aligned. She reached out once to rearrange his St. Michael’s medallion. Before she could pull her hand back, Ky grabbed it and kissed her knuckles.
The gesture, sweet and unexpected, shot a bullet of emotions through her.
“You almost done?” he asked, letting her hand go.
“One more.”
She pressed down on the shutter button.
“That was six more,” he said when she placed the camera back on the bedside table. She’d look at the photographs all in sequence later. But she already knew each and every one of them was perfect.
