you adjust the focus again. not because the lens needs it but because you do

renee shifts on the bed, dragging the hem of her red jacket a little lower over her stomach. shes wearing those panties, the ones you remember peeling off her with your teeth once in the backseat of your car

“i feel like a brat” she mutters, stretching out dramatically with her face angled toward the camera but eyes avoiding it “is that what you want?”

you lift the camera to your face to hide the expression tightening your features “i want you to stop posing like youre trying to piss me off”

she looks right at you then “im not trying. you just are”

click

the shutter snaps just as the smirk hits her mouth, taunting, bored, and devastating. its a perfect shot and it makes your stomach twist

you lower the camera “this albums called bite me not beg menright?”

she shifts onto her elbows, the movement slow and feline like "i dont remember you ever having a problem begging”

you roll your eyes and look away, pretending to check the lighting on your monitor “you done being a brat or should i clear the room?”

she laughs “no one else gets me like this”

your throat tightens “thats not the compliment you think it is”

she studies you, not with the look of someone being photographed but someone peeling layers off you silently and deliberately “youre the only one id let shoot this”

“im the only one you trust” you say before you can stop yourself “even now”

the silence hangs heavy between you. the room is still and her eyes flicker with some emotion but her mouth doesnt move

you lift the camera again “one more”

she shifts onto her stomach, dragging her hair forward like a curtain with her expression sharp and hungry and then she stares down your lens like she owns you