Page 27 of Ice-Cold Obsession

He shifts, and I capture the shot. Through the lens, he looks different. Less intimidating and more human. The light catches his profile and the line of his jaw.

I lower the camera. “Let’s try something else.”

I circle him, testing different angles. He moves when I tell him to and tilts his head when I ask. His movements are fluid and natural, as if he’s used to being watched. And he probably is. Hockey players spend half their lives performing for crowds.

But this feels different. More intimate, since it’s just the two of us and the camera between us.

I notice a thin leather bracelet on his left wrist. It’s worn and faded, like it’s been there for years. I zoom in and snap a few close-ups. The edges are frayed, and the leather soft from constant wear.

I redirect him to different spots around the clearing. He leans against one of the trees, then crouches low with his elbows resting on his knees. I have him lie back in the grass with his arms behind his head as he looks up at the sky. He complies without questioning me, and I keep taking photos.

My focus narrows to the details. The way his fingers curl against the grass. The subtle tension in his posture, even when he’s supposed to look relaxed. The way the light filters through the branches above him and casts shadows across his face.

“Sit up,” I say. “And face me.”

He pulls himself upright, folding his legs beneath him and resting his hands on his thighs. I snap a few shots, then lower the camera.

“Kneel for me,” I say, then immediately regret how it sounds.

A smirk tugs at his mouth, but he drops to his knees without saying anything. When he looks up at me, the smirk’s already gone. His expression is softer now and more open than I’ve seen it.

I raise the camera, but I hesitate. The light catches his eyes, and for a moment, I just stare at him. So fucking beautiful.

I lower the camera and step closer. His hair’s falling into his face.

Before I can think better of it, I reach out and brush the strands back. My fingers graze his temple, and he goes still. As his eyes lift to me, his expression changes. My hand stays in his hair longer than it should.

His gaze holds mine, and the rest of the world blurs out. Nothing exists except the way he’s looking at me right now.

I pull away and step back, lifting the camera again. “Stay like that.”

I take the shot, then another. My hands aren’t as steady as they should be, and I hate that he’s affecting me like this.

I keep taking photos, adjusting the angle and the exposure, but my focus is slipping. I keep noticing things. Small, stupid things. The way his breathing changes when he looks at me. His jaw tightening when I don’t say anything. His fingers pressing into his thighs, like he’s holding himself still.

Aw shit. Why does he have to be so...

Ugh!

Chapter 15

GABRIEL

SCARLET’S BITING DOWNon her lower lip, her fingers adjusting something on the camera.

“A little to the right,” she says. “Yeah, just like that.”

She takes the shot, and there’s something about the way she’s looking at me. It’s strange. But not in a bad way.

I’ve done press shoots before, and they were all formal things where they tell you to smile, hold a stick, and look like you’re having the time of your life. But right now, with Scarlett crouched in front of me and adjusting her lens, it feels different.

Real somehow.

I’m actually enjoying this. The whole photo shoot thing was just an excuse to talk to her and get closer, but now I’m kind of having fun with it.

When her hand brushed my hair earlier, I wanted her to keep touching me. The spot she touched kind of still tingles, or maybe I’m imagining it.

“Move over there,” she says.