Lower

Izzy holds the pose, her hands flat against the mattress, her back arched just a little more than she intended. The dress has slipped so far forward that the cool air brushes against the undersides of her breasts, but she's focused on Marcus's voice, on the way he's watching her through the lens.

"Lower," Marcus says, his voice calm and steady. "And bite your lip."

Izzy doesn't think. She just moves. Her hands slide down the sheets, her body bending further until her chest nearly touches the mattress, the dress pooling around her shoulders. She bites her lower lip, looking back at him through the fall of her dark hair, and she feels a strange thrill run through her chest.

She holds still, and for a moment, she's surprised at herself. She did exactly what he said, without hesitation, without questioning. She wanted to be good for him. She wanted the photo to be perfect.

"Like this?" she asks, her voice barely above a whisper, muffled slightly by the lip still caught between her teeth. Her bare toes curl against the sheets behind her.

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