I lifted my chin toward him. “I’ve never seen you before.”
One side of his lips twitched up into a small yet sexy smile. “I’m new to fashion photography. And if you’re okay to continue, I’d love to finish.” His gaze darted to the lens. “We’ve gotten some great shots. Most of them after you took a breather. You’re a wild beauty. The camera loves you.”
I smiled. “That’s what they all say when a half-naked woman is standing in front of them.”
He chuckled and the rich baritone sound warmed my body from the inside out.
“I’m Addison Michaels-Kerrighan. And you are?”
“Killian Fitzpatrick.”
Interesting name for an intriguing man.
“You ready to continue or do you want a break?” he asked, no hint of judgement in his tone.
I pursed my lips. “As long as you don’t hide behind the camera,” I stated shakily then added a soft, “Please and thank you. Apparently, faceless men behind cameras are a new trigger for one of my moments.” I shared that, but then balked at my own stupidity. I had no idea why I’d give up something so personal to someone I didn’t know, besides the fact that he had honest, kind eyes, great hair, and a sexy smile.
“I’m here for you, whatever you need.”
Surprisingly, I laughed. “Again, that’s what they all say,” I teased, taking a deep breath and letting out all the fear and ugliness that had crept up. I shook my arms and legs as though I were flinging off water, but mostly was just trying to fling off the negative tragedy that plagued my every waking minute. “Just get a good shot.”
“With you, Addison, I’m not sure there are any bad shots. Though I think with a little time and focus, we could find magic together.” His voice had a warm, comforting tone, laced with a hint of innuendo.
My cheeks heated and I quirked my head and smirked.
Click.