Just like that

Marcus adjusts the focus, snaps two quick shots, then lowers the camera. He looks at her — not leering, just assessing, like he's checking a frame.

"Keep your legs like that," he says. "Arch your back a little more. And put your hand somewhere else. Let the shot do the work."

Izzy complies without hesitation. She lifts her hips, pressing her spine into the curve of the lounger, and moves her hand away from the fabric. Now the wet white cotton does everything — clinging, revealing, teasing. She spreads her knees wider, tilting her chin down toward the camera, and holds the pose. Her breath is steady, her heart pounding in her chest.

"Like this?" she asks, her voice dropping to a whisper.

Marcus snaps another photo. Then another. The shutter clicks fill the quiet yard.