“Those jeans look great on you, Archer,” Gemma compliments. They’re acid wash and fit him like a glove. I stand back and take more pictures.
“You should take off the jacket,” I instruct. He’s wearing a black collared shirt with silver buttons that shine in the sunlight. Needing to style it a little better, I adjust it.
Carefully, I roll the sleeves up to his forearm and ask him to do the other one but keep his hand there for the shot. Once I’m back in place, I can’t press the button fast enough. “Bite your bottom lip a little.”
He laughs, but I’m not kidding. These clothes are going to fly off the shelf because these pictures are hot as hell.
“Okay, go ahead and take off the shirt.”
His eyes widen. “And change?”
“No, no, no. Just take it off and show me those muscles you’re hidin’,”
