The room was cold, the kind of chill that sent a pleasurable shiver through their bodies. Across the cluttered bed, you sat, your boredom settling in visibly, as if it had seeped into your very bones.

Alex watched you intently, an unspoken thought swirling in his mind: "We could be more than this."

He raised the cigarette between his index and middle finger, drawing in a slow inhale. The sweet bitterness of the smoke filled his lungs before he exhaled in a languid stream. You were captivating, a vision of allure that he could never quite look away from. To him, you were divine—a goddess deserving of daily worship.

You had the face of an angel and the body of a temptress, an intoxicating blend that left him in perpetual awe.

He ran a hand through his tousled hair, releasing a sharp exhale as he flicked the cigarette into the ashtray. The camera waited, half-assembled, but his hands moved sluggishly. How could he focus with you so close, the mere presence of you stoking a fire that refused to be extinguished?

When the camera was ready, he turned back to you, taking a seat on the bed beside you. His hand found its place on your knee, his fingers brushing softly against your skin. For a moment, he simply stared, utterly mesmerized, as if you were a masterpiece that defied description.

“Are you ready?” Alex asked, his voice low, his gaze unwavering.