***
By the time Friday afternoon arrived, I was pretty nervous. After stopping to check my hair and makeup, I left the building with a couple of classmates, chatting about our upcoming graduation. Nobody could believe it was happening so soon, and everyone was focusing on finding jobs immediately.
“Oh my God,” someone whispered. “Isn’t that Ben Hayes? Didn’t we study his work last year?”
I turned to see Ben coming up the walk. His dark eyes fixed on mine made my pulse quicken, and I wanted to run into his arms. Instead, I attempted to walk toward him calmly. “Your ankle seems better,” I said with a grin.
He came closer, glancing at the people scattered around, then leaning into my ear. “Am I allowed to hug you in front of your classmates?”
Seeing his handsome smile made all of my reservations take a flying leap. Swinging my camera bag to the side, I wrapped my arms around his neck, giving him a huge hug.
His hands clasped my waist, sliding down to almost grab my ass, as he nuzzled my hair. “You smell like sunshine, sweetheart,” he murmured. “Let’s go.”
He led me to a fancy silver car, holding the door for me as I slid inside. As he glided into traffic, I noticed that we were headed downtown.
“Where are we going?” I asked.
I found myself staring at his rugged profile, my hands nervously clenching the skirt of my dark rose dress. I wanted to look pretty for him, but I also wanted to look professional in case there were clients at the shoot.
“An old friend of mine just opened a boutique hotel. He and his wife tried to take photos for the website themselves but they were…” He shot me a look. “What’s the politically correct term for ‘absolutely shitty’?”
I grinned, placing my finger on my lips as I pondered very seriously. “Let’s see. We could be British and say ‘dreadful’. Or we could be catty and say ‘amateurish’. Which is closer?”
He reached out to bring my fingertip to his lips, kissing it gently. “You’re absolutely adorable, Chelsea. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you for more than ten seconds.”
I genuinely couldn’t believe he’d just said something so sweet.
“Have you thought of me at all?” he asked, shooting me another look before taking a sharp left-hand corner.
“Yes,” I said slowly, “But, well, I don’t know how to think of you.”
Ben nodded. “Yeah, that’s been on my mind. Chelsea, I want to date you. I think you’re gorgeous and sweet and I like everything about you. You’re also incredibly talented. I went through those Ultra Seven shots again, and you have an amazing eye.”
“Thank you.”
“I’d really like to take you on as my assistant, or intern, or whatever you want to call it. My extra shooter. My spare pair of hands.”
He pulled into an underground parking lot, then we got out, slinging our camera bags. Ben seemed lost in thought for a moment, then stopped as he slid an arm around me, pulling me against him.
“Chelsea, I don’t want you to feel obligated to be with me in any way.” He gently caressed my back, making it nearly impossi
ble to think straight. “Please tell me what I’m supposed to do here.”
“I can’t let you seem unprofessional to clients,” I whispered.
“I don’t care what anyone thinks but you.” Although my mind tripped over itself running in circles, my face tipped up to his, as I lost myself in his sweet, deep kiss. “I need you to be my girl,” he murmured against my lips.
I nodded without thinking. My chest pressed against his. Every time he kissed me, my thoughts of attempting to be appropriate flew out the window. He wanted me.
Ben finally pulled away. “Let’s get the photos done as fast as we can.”
He led me to the elevator, eyeing me up as if he wanted to back me against the mirror and ravish me on the spot. I realized that I truly wanted him to. I wanted him to throw me down and do… Anything. Everything. Everything I’ve ever been afraid of, everything I had ever been unsure about. I knew that with Ben it would be incredible.
We arrived at the top floor and he snapped right into his shooting headspace. “Quick, let’s get the window shots before the light dims,” he said.
I scurried around arranging things, helping him angle furniture and move lamps. Furniture placement that was practical for living was always a bit off for a great shot. I thought we were finished at the windows, but Ben stopped me.
“Hold on.” He placed my left hand against the window, turning my shoulder and placing my right hand higher as if I were staring out the window wistfully. He backed up and took a couple of shots, then leaned back and fluffed my hair, brushing it back from my face.