she adored that he understood that true beauty ran deeper.
He tapped his temple. “I can be a feminist.”
“It’s hot,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “And that’s honestly why I love shooting boudoir. Women are realizing that they don’t have to be rail-thin to look good in lingerie. You can have curves, you can have extra padding, you can have stretch marks and still put on a black satin bra and sexy panties and feel wanted, feel sensual,” she said, moving her shoulders and her hips, demonstrating how a woman might feel sexy. “It’s a way of celebrating their femininity. They’re capturing sexuality on camera.”
“They’re capturing their life,” he said with a nod and then added, “They’re enjoying their life.”
“Exactly. I’ve done photos for women after they’ve lost weight and want to celebrate their new bodies. And I’ve done some for others who haven’t lost weight but still want to embrace all that they are, and feel comfortable in their skin.”
“And you help them do that on the shoot?”
“I try. It’s not easy to strip down to your bra and panties and pose sexily for the camera. But my job is to make them feel like they’re all the sexiest women in the world.”
“How do you do that? What’s your secret?”
“I’m…wait for it… positive,” she said, like it was a punch line.
“Well, that would be a good skill,” he said with a quirk of his lips.
“It’s also natural to me. Because I do think the female body is beautiful in all shapes and sizes, and I let them know that they look amazing. Thin or heavy, average or above average. Blond, brunette, redhead. Birthmarks or scars. Every woman can be beautiful in her own way.”
He nodded. “I like that you feel that way. Ever shoot guys?”
“Shockingly, most men don’t do boudoir sessions,” she said in a deadpan voice. “But I have photographed a few couples.”
He arched an eyebrow, then made a rolling gesture, telling her to elaborate. “Are they getting it on?”
She shook her head. “I’m not a pornographer. But sometimes a newly engaged couple will do a sexy shoot. They want to take photos of their passion for each other. To showcase it.”
“They ever invite you to join them?”
She rolled her eyes. “Again, not a pornographer, or a third wheel.”
He held up his hands in surrender. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist.”
“And to answer your question, no, they don’t. They’re happy together. They don’t want a threesome with the photographer.”
“I guess it’s just me then.”
“You’d want a threesome with the photographer?”
“No. I want a one-on-one with her. Only a one-on-one. That’s what I want,” he said, running his fingers across the ends of her hair, watching it fall from his hand onto her shoulder. “I want to be the one behind the camera, shooting photos of her looking gorgeous in anything and nothing.” His blue eyes were fiery, intense. “Then I want to set down the camera and have her invite me to join her on the bed, and all the sensuality she poured into the pose, she gives to me.”
Annalise shuddered and swallowed. Her throat was dry. Her skin heated up and then, out of nowhere, a flash of worry touched down. Goddammit. She didn’t want to feel an ounce of regret again about her choice to be with him. This time, she made a deliberate decision. She seized hold of that bit of remorse and tossed it in the trash. Instead, she let the heat and the sparks and the sizzle slide through her. “I would do that,” she whispered. “I would do that with you. I would give that to you.”
The flight attendant began the announcements, and Annalise settled into her seat, her skin on fire, a pulse beating between her legs, desire cloaking her once more. She closed her eyes and breathed, trying to get some sort of hold on these raging hormones, but with him next to her it was futile.
She resigned herself to being wet the whole flight.
It was all his fault. That fucking hot, sexy man.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Once they were airborne, Michael returned to the topic of her family. “So you and Noelle help out your mom?”
“Yes. We want to be there as much as we can for her. That’s why I try to keep my jobs out of town as short as they can be. Especially since Noelle is so busy.”
“How is your sister? Did she ever start the bakery like she wanted to?” he asked, and Annalise loved that he remembered that little detail