Through the Lens (Click Duet #1) (Bay Area Duet Series)

by Persephone Autumn

  When he left, I was certain he would come back as soon as he could. We had it all planned out. Down to the very last detail. Or so we thought. But when you’re young, and can’t pay to travel across the country, plans change. Promises slip through the cracks. People fade into the background.

  Alyson parks three spaces down and across from me. I sit in my car a minute longer, watching from the driver’s seat as Gavin gets out of the car and scans the parking lot, a hand hovering above his sunglasses. The moment he spots my car, his shaded eyes landing on mine, a monumental smile stretches across his face.

  “Damn,” I whisper on a sigh.

  I have only seen this smile a few times from him, including the one he gifts me now. It echoes off him, bounces through the atmosphere, and hits me with a force that knocks me breathless. My lips part as I suck in a breath, his eyes not missing the effect he has on me—even fifty feet away—causing his smile to brighten further.

  Walking with a bounce in his stride, he sidles up to my door and pokes his head through the open window. “Good morning, baby.” His lips warm against my neck as he imprints his lips on the skin below my ear.

  An audible sigh exhales from my chest as my eyes roll back before my lids shut out the world around us. Heat fires in my chest; surging, rising, spreading to every nerve ending in my body. His lips and tongue travel a path along the curve of my neck. All coherent thoughts vanish and I melt into a puddle in my car.

  A cough from behind him interrupts the moment and snaps us both back to the reason why we are here. My eyes flick to Gavin’s, his happiness reflecting my beaming smile. “Good morning,” I say, breathless.

  “Shouldn’t we get started?” Alyson gripes, a hint of irritation in her voice.

  “Yes. Sorry,” I apologize, rolling up my windows and stepping out of the car. “Let me grab my equipment from the back and then we can start.”

  She nods, then asks, “Where’s your assistant? Do we need to wait for her too?” Her tone transitions from irritation to annoyance in point-five seconds.

  What crawled up her ass and died?

  “Erin won’t be here today. Minimal equipment is necessary for today’s shoot. Plus, she had a prior engagement.” My tone is courteous, when all I want is to give her the same level of shit she dishes out to me. But, as always, I take the higher ground.

  She starts walking toward her car, speaking over her shoulder at us. “I’m grabbing my bag from the car. Be ready when I walk back over.”

  As soon as she is out of earshot, I glance up at Gavin, silently asking why the hell Alyson is being a top-notch bitch to me today. Lifting the hatch on the back, I grab the cameras I plan to use today, hooking the straps over my head.

  Seconds pass before he speaks up, his voice raspy and low. “She’s upset with me. This morning, I broke the news to her that I plan to move back to Florida. She knows I still want her as my agent, but isn’t thrilled with the idea of doing the job from the other side of the country.”

  Hanging my head, I mumble, “So, this is also about me. Her frustration isn’t just with you, but also with me. Am I right?” I hate that us being together will cause a rift in his career.

  He brushes my hair behind my ear and follows the gesture with his eyes. “I didn’t mention you when I spoke with her earlier. But I’m sure she put two and two together with my greeting you. None of that matters, though. I’ll talk with her. Explain things she knows nothing about.”

  My chest tightens as guilt riddles me. I don’t want animosity—between him and his agent or me, by proxy. “Okay. But, Gavin…” I pause and he locks his gaze on mine. “Please don’t make me the sole reason you return.”

  He cocks his head and studies me a minute. His eyes narrow then relax behind his sunglasses as he starts to shake his head. “You don’t get it, do you?”

  “Get what?” I furrow my brows, obviously unaware. A small piece of my heart tells me I know the answer. Whispers it softly in my ear. But the gut-wrenching memories step out of the shadows and remind me to never assume. Assumptions kill dreams and crush hearts.

  “It has always been about you. It always will be.”

  “Gavin…” He can’t say things like that. Not unless he is prepared to back every sentiment. And not with more words or promises, but with actions. Actions are what I need.

  His fingers brush along my jawline, from my temple to my chin. “You don’t get it, baby. I have missed you every day since the moment my mom packed our life up and moved us away. It’s been four thousand six hundred and ninety-eight days, Cora. And until I’m back here, with you beside me again, I won’t stop counting. Because it’s the only thing that gives me hope.”

  My throat squeezes at his words, making it hard to swallow the lump building from emotional overload. Making it difficult to breathe. How do I follow up after he confesses facts so heavy? Anything I say after seems minuscule. But not responding makes me an asshole. Just as I am about to formulate a response, about to use my words, Alyson steps up to us and huffs.

  “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.

  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, starting with teens.”

  “Okay…”

  He is not picking up on this. Not one bit. And damnit, I am going to have to come right out and say it. Internally, my hand slaps my forehead. Just say it. We are both adults, for fuck’s sake.

  “Gavin, parents won’t want their teenage kids looking at an ad where the model has an erection, which is one-hundred-percent visible through the wet material. Many of the older female population may enjoy it, maybe some men too, but that won’t be the only eyes on the ad.”

  His laugh is throaty, his abs contracting in ways that coil my insides tight. I continue taking photo after photo, capturing more candid shots. When he finishes laughing, he walks the small distance to me. My camera still glued to my face as he approaches, snapping as many photos as possible. He slowly pushes the camera aside and tips my chin up so we are eye to eye.

  “Do you know how hard it is to stand practically naked in front of you? Knowing your job is to look at me. To take photos of me. Your visual assessment has me hungrier for you with each press of the shutter release.”

  I swallow hard, the sound from the action echoes loud in my head and I wonder if he hears it too. His pupils dilate more, his steely-gray irises darkening with each passing second. If he believes it is challenging to be in front of the camera, he has no idea how difficult it is to be on the other side. To view him through the lens and attempt to keep every thought I have as practiced as possible. To remind myself I am working and to be on my best behavior.

  “It’s not so easy from where I’m standing either. Having to maintain complete photographer-client idiosyncrasies while I snap photos of the one person who incinerates my insides. When—right now—the only thing I want to do is trace my fingers over every line of your body.”

  Neither of us looks away. His chest rises and falls faster with each breath he takes. The friction of his chest brushing against my nipples builds a delicious, insatiable heat between my legs. Right here, on the white sands of the small beachfront, I want him to kiss me. Want to feel the heat of his lips brush against mine. Against my skin, dow
n my throat and…

  A cough rings out behind me, and I snap out of my fantasy. Gavin peeks over my head, his smile faltering when he sees who stands there. Only one possible person could be there. Alyson. And from the scene she walked in on, I would not be shocked if she policed the rest of the shoot.

  Gavin’s eyes come back to mine before he bends to press a soft kiss on my lips. “I’ll try to think about something else so we can wrap this up.”

  I nod, blurting, “shitty diapers.”

  He tips his head in question. “Shitty diapers…” he says, dragging out the words.

  “Yeah. Think about that and it’ll solve the current setback.”

  He walks backward, a hearty laugh bellowing from his chest. “You always know the right thing to say.”

  We hike back to the cars, Alyson leading the way twenty feet ahead of us and griping over how bloodthirsty the insects are in Florida. Gavin falls in step beside me, his fingers wrapped around mine and clutching me as if I might slip away. Not a single word is spoken for ten minutes as we follow the trail.

  When we reach the opening, I hear Alyson mutter thank God under her breath. Gavin laughs loud enough for only me to hear, shaking his head at her bitching. Obviously, the mosquito population isn’t as predominant in California. Seeing as summer exists the majority of the year in Florida, I would not be shocked if mosquitos were dubbed the state insect one day.

  Once we are back in the lot, Alyson walks over to her rental, but not before sending a knowing look to Gavin. A look that says she understands, but also not to push her boundaries. What those boundaries are, I am not privy to.

  I press the unlock button on my key fob, lifting the hatch and tucking my cameras into the bags under the cover. Gavin stands inches away as his gaze sears me. After everything is in its rightful place, I step back and close the hatch. When I turn to face Gavin, my eyes roam his body. Starting at the waistband of his board shorts—which barely hang on his hips—trailing up the grooves and curves of his abdomen, falling on his pecs—where my mouth waters at the sight of the barbells through his nipples—rising up his throat. I watch his Adam’s apple bob as my eyes scrape over his stubble and lips, and eventually land on eyes that want to devour me.