Pulled me in

Izzy stands in the doorway, bare, her hands resting on her hips as the softbox light spills from behind her. Marcus's smile holds, and then his voice cuts through the quiet, low and easy: "Come here."

She doesn't hesitate. Her bare feet pad across the living room floor, the cool wood against her soles, and she stops just in front of him. He reaches out, hands settling on the curve of her ass, fingers pressing into the soft flesh as he pulls her flush against him. The warmth of his body seeps into her skin, the thin fabric of his boxers doing nothing to hide the firm press of him against her stomach. His eyes find hers, steady, unreadable.

She lets out a soft breath, her hands lifting to rest against his chest, fingers spreading over the warm skin above his collarbone. Her pulse is a drumbeat in her throat, and she can feel the heat of his gaze tracing her face, her parted lips, the rise and fall of her chest.

"You pulled me in pretty close," she says, her voice a murmur, barely above a whisper. "Was this the plan all along, or are we still just taking photos?"

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