She snorts. “Great. They can teach me how to avoid them.” After a not-so-subtle dig at me, she quits screwing with the shoestring, and her hand lands on my foot. “My talent lies in conducting interviews, which you wouldn’t know.” She’s on a roll, and my lips twitch. “I’m not used to being on this side of the lens.”

“Anymore.”

Our eyes meet, and she softly echoes, “Anymore.”

My free hand’s close enough I skim my knuckles over her black knee-high above one boot. “You’re just out of practice.” The arm covering her middle falls to her side—her other hand landing on my other shoe. So, I flip my palm and let mine settle the same way. “With the right direction, I’m sure it’ll come back to you.”

She smiles and looks away, but like every other time, those hypnotic orbs return to me. “Direct me then.”

Fuck, her raspy voice has no right to sound so sexy.

I drag my teeth over my bottom lip, switching to the viewfinder. “For starters, you need to relax.”

“I am relaxed,” she defends, but the tension remains in her shoulders and forehead.

“So relaxed.” I adjust the lens to see more of her. “I think we can do better. Take down your hair.”

After studying me for a second, Remi reaches up. My fingers flex around her leg as she removes the clip. Her dark red hair spills over her shoulders, the clip clattering into the soap tray screwed to the wall. She sets her phone down on the ledge by mine and repositions. Her lower body shifts even closer to me, her upper stretching out and reclining. Then she rests her head on the tiled wall behind her in a mirror to mine, the black ends of her hair splaying over her white shirt around the two open buttons.

Without thinking, I lean forward and tuck a lock behind her ear. Her chest stalls when I touch her. As I sit back, my hand returns to her leg but higher. My thumb sweeps back and forth over the material. But I want her skin.

I want what I could only watch back then.

Remi licks her lips. “What are you thinking about?”

“I’m remembering how hot you look when you come,” I tell her.

Her lashes flutter as she swallows. “Oh.”

One side of my mouth lifts at what sounded more squeak than word. “Yeah, but…” I slide my foot closest to the doors forward, so she has to move her arm. Touch me or touch herself. She chooses me, resting it on my leg. “You were wearing a lot less clothes then.”

I don’t specify which time I’m talking about—I don’t need to.

“Not at first,” she says, and I look up.

“You were once I got you to strip out of your slutty fairy outfit.”