The rest of the shoot unraveled in a blur of camera flashes, wardrobe adjustments, and increasingly intimate instructions that would have felt absurd if Alex weren’t already far too aware of Callan’s hands on her body every few minutes.
The photographer, emboldened by whatever tension he thought he had captured between them, became almost impossible to satisfy after that.
“Closer,” he kept insisting, circling them with restless energy while assistants adjusted lighting around the set. “You two keep giving me these moments and then pulling away from them. I need less caution and more connection.”
Alex, seated sideways across the velvet sofa while Callan leaned against the arm beside her, forced a pleasant expression onto her face as she tried not to think too hard about how naturally his
