Raf
She drags the brush through her hair, the evening breeze curling in through the open patio doors. The waves crash and recede, a heartbeat against the hush of the beach house.
Her phone buzzes against the vanity. She reaches for it without thinking, expecting a ping from a client, maybe a half-hearted check-in from an old friend.
Instead... it’s Casey.
“Oh my god,” she mutters to herself, giggling as she sees her screen.
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She swipes instantly. First: the taut plane of his torso, the waistband of his Calvin Klein briefs peeking above his slacks. Then: his fly, now unzipped. Next: the sharp V of his hips, his briefs edging lower, the faint line of hair trailing from his navel.
Then: the money shot.
Wow. He’s big. Big enough, at least. Just another stupid, sexy, reckless man, she thinks. Her thumbs move before her thoughts catch up.
You’ll have to show me more than that, she types. Then sets the phone down. She catches her reflection in the mirror.
What am I doing? But she can’t ignore the gleam in her eyes. She opens the camera. Frames her reflection just right. Finds the light. I can be reckless too.
She flashes an alluring smile. Too much? Nah.
Then, she takes the shot.