Summer’s Cove

by Aurora Rey

  The orgasm hit her, not with the punch of force she expected, but like a waterfall. It poured over her, sending pleasure into every curve and crease of her body. Emerson shuddered with it, struggled to keep her footing.

  Darcy stood and held her. Emerson let herself be wrapped up in the embrace and the unspoken assurances it seemed to offer. After a long moment, Darcy moved one hand and turned off the water. She slowly let go and eased away. Emerson looked into her eyes, searching but unable to decipher what Darcy was thinking.

  Before Emerson could study her further, or ask questions, Darcy pushed open the shower curtain. And the spell was broken. Darcy smiled, leaving Emerson to think the feeling had been hers alone. Darcy reached for the towel hung on the back of the door. “Stay there. I’ll grab you a fresh towel.”

  She disappeared, giving Emerson a moment to collect herself. When she came back a few seconds later, Emerson accepted the towel and returned the smile. “Thanks.”

  “You have some T-shirts and boxers in the laundry basket in my room. I threw them in with my wash.”

  Emerson nodded. “Thanks for that, too.”

  “Ready for dinner?”

  “Starved.”

  Darcy disappeared again and Emerson dried off. She went to Darcy’s room and put on the clothes that now smelled like Darcy’s place. She found Darcy in the kitchen making plates of cold chicken and vegetables. Darcy flashed her a smile and Emerson returned it. They’d just had an incredible day. There was nothing in the world to be disappointed about.

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Whatever saturnine feelings had threatened to creep in the day before dissipated. Emerson woke with Darcy’s naked body pressed against her and she felt nothing but sated and happy. Darcy, already awake and alert, looked at her and smiled. “Good morning.”

  Emerson returned the smile. “Morning.”

  “You don’t need to get up, but I have to get ready for work.”

  “I’m awake. And I should get some work done today, too.” They’d also come to Darcy’s in one car and Emerson felt weird about being stranded at her apartment all day. “Want to stay at my place tonight?”

  Darcy considered, or at least pretended to consider, for a moment. “I suppose that could be arranged.”

  “I’ll even make you dinner.”

  “Then I’m definitely in.” Darcy climbed out of bed. “I’m going to take a quick shower.”

  “I’ll resist joining you and make some coffee.”

  Darcy turned back and kissed her. “You’re the best.”

  Less than an hour later, they pulled into Darcy’s parking spot behind the café. “I’ll see you around four, yeah? Any requests for dinner?”

  “Probably 4:30. Nothing fancy. I’m not really coming for the dinner.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  They parted ways and Emerson walked to the little market she passed on the way home. She wandered the short aisles, settling on angel hair pasta with pesto. She picked up some shrimp to make it more special and the ingredients for a basic salad.

  At home, she put away the groceries then spent a few minutes tidying up. Satisfied everything looked sufficiently put together, she grabbed her bag from the day before and went to her work area. She pulled out the sketch pad and flipped through it. She’d only managed two rough drawings before she’d given herself over to more pleasurable pursuits. Still, there was more than enough to inspire a painting.

  Emerson set down the notebook and looked at the canvas she’d only started working on. What she’d really love to have were photographs. Even a dozen images would give her inspiration for months, if not more. Would Darcy agree to a photo shoot? The idea, and how to broach it with Darcy, percolated as she got to work. Instead of distracting her, it fueled her. Emerson channeled the energy into the painting she had in progress. This piece, a woman standing on the pier and looking at the ocean, would be a good one to show Darcy. Inspired by a photo she took, it would have the essence of the woman without looking exactly like her. Hopefully, that would nudge Darcy in the direction of agreeing to model for her.

  Emerson continued to work, stopping once for the bathroom and an apple. The painting continued to come together—the texture of the sand and the light on the water in the background, the shadows along the woman’s back and the wispy curls falling from her pinned up hair. When a knock came from the door, she jumped. She set down her brush and glanced at the clock. Where the hell had the day gone?

  Emerson hurried to the door and opened it to find Darcy on the other side. She eyed Emerson with suspicion. “Why do you seem so surprised to see me?”

  Emerson laughed and stepped back so Darcy could come in. “I’m not. I just lost track of time.”

  Darcy shook her head and smiled. “That seems to happen to you a lot. Is it an artist thing or a bachelor thing?”

  “I’m going to go with artist. Seems more palatable.” Emerson closed the door. “Can I get you something to drink?”

  “Definitely. Do you mind if I shower first?”

  “Help yourself.”

  Darcy headed to the bathroom with her overnight bag. Emerson cleaned up her painting area and turned her attention to the kitchen. She opened the Malvasia she’d bought to go with dinner and poured two glasses, then filed a small plate with olives, marinated artichoke hearts, and bocconcini. Darcy returned a few minutes later, hair wet and wearing a red and white striped sun dress. “Feel better?” Emerson asked.

  “Much.”

  They sat on the sofa, drinking wine and sampling the antipasti Emerson had put together. Not for the first time, Emerson found herself looking at Darcy with a painter’s eye—the line of her jaw, the way her hair curled as it dried. She’d wait until they’d eaten, when Darcy was completely relaxed. She’d ask her then.

  Emerson told herself not to be nervous as she made dinner, as they sat on the sofa with bowls of pasta and more wine. Darcy suggested a movie and found an old black and white one on the television. Emerson opened a second bottle of wine. She didn’t want Darcy drunk, but comfortable, uninhibited. Then Darcy started kissing her neck.

  Thoughts of taking pictures vanished as Darcy pulled Emerson to the bed. She took off Emerson’s clothes, then her own. For all that Darcy wanted to relinquish control when they were in Boston, she seemed perfectly at ease running the show now. Emerson went along, happily, touching and tasting in a way that felt both exciting and familiar.

  After, as they lay in bed with a sheet thrown over them, Emerson’s thoughts returned to her camera. “Would you let me photograph you?”

  Darcy raised a brow. “Right now?”

  “Now, or later. Whenever. I just…I’ve been wanting to paint you. And as much as I enjoyed doing sketches on the boat, most of my paintings come from photographs. More of a fixed moment, if that makes sense.”

  “You want to paint me?”

  “Are you really surprised by that?”

  Darcy seemed to think about it. “I don’t know. Maybe?”

  Emerson propped herself on her elbow. “You know I think you’re beautiful. It’s more than that, though. You evoke something in me. I’d love to try to capture it.”

  “My hair is a mess and I’m not wearing any makeup.”

  Emerson ran a finger down Darcy’s cheek, along her jaw to her chin. “You are perfect.”

  Darcy laughed and Emerson feared she was about to say no. But when she stopped, a smile remained. “Okay.”

  “Okay, yes?”

  “Yes.”

  Emerson got the feeling Darcy’s acquiescence was tied, at least in part, to the moment. Not wanting to take a chance on second thoughts, she climbed out of bed. She threw on boxers and a tee, walked to her studio space, and picked up her camera. When she returned, Darcy’s mouth offered a smile, but her eyes remained apprehensive. “If you’re having second thoughts, it’s okay. I don’t want you to feel forced into anything.”

  Darcy shook her head. “No, I want to. I’m just a little ne
rvous. Something about being naked, I think.”

  “Do you know what I think the sexiest thing about you is?”

  Darcy raised a brow. “What?”

  “Your confidence.”

  “Stop.”

  “I mean it. Don’t get me wrong, your body is amazing and your eyes could turn me into a puddle. But you have this thing. It’s like you’re completely comfortable in your skin. So few women have that. It’s sad, really, that it’s rare, but you channel it like no one I’ve ever known.”

  The hesitation disappeared and, this time, the smile made it all the way to her eyes. Stunning. “Thanks.”

  “I mean every word.”

  “What do you want me to do?”

  Emerson smiled. “Whatever you want. Show some skin, cover it up. Be coy, be brazen. The only rule is that you be you.”

  “Okay.”

  “And I’ll show them to you when we’re done. You can delete any or all of them.”

  “And you won’t use them in a painting without my permission?”

  “Yes, I have a written release that I use with all my subjects. If you don’t sign it, then nothing will ever leave this room.”

  Darcy nodded and took a deep breath. “Okay. I’m ready.”

  And just like that, Darcy became a model. Emerson snapped furiously while Darcy stared right into the camera, then glanced away. She draped the sheet over herself in a way that tantalized in what it promised more than what it revealed. Emerson took photos of her face, her hands, the curve of her hip. Without coaching, and in the span of about ten minutes, Emerson captured hundreds of images.

  Even without looking at them, Emerson knew they’d be amazing. It was the same magnetism she’d felt the first time she saw Darcy in The Flour Pot kitchen, only this was about ten times stronger. When she moved the camera aside for a moment, Darcy looked right in her eyes and Emerson felt a desire stronger than anything she thought possible.

  “You are so beautiful.”

  Darcy rolled to her stomach and rested her chin in her hand. “I’m glad you think so.”

  “I’d say it’s more of a truth universally acknowledged kind of beautiful, but I may be particularly susceptible to it.”

  Darcy raised an eyebrow. “Did you just Jane Austen me?”

  “I might have.”

  “Officially the nerdiest, yet sweetest, compliment ever.”

  Emerson shrugged a shoulder. “I’m glad you don’t think I’m a total dork.”

  “Oh, no. You’re a dork. I just happen to find it endearing.”

  “I’ll take that.”

  “So, do I get to see?” Darcy looked at her expectantly.

  “The photos?”

  “Yes, the photos.”

  “Absolutely. Let me copy them to my computer so you have more than a two-inch screen to look at.” Emerson connected her camera to her laptop and downloaded the images, then carried the computer with her to the bed. She climbed in and positioned herself on her stomach next to Darcy. She slid the computer in front of Darcy and pointed at the arrow keys. “Forward and back. I want to see them too, but this way you can set the pace.”

  Darcy shot her a flirtatious smile. “I do love setting the pace.”

  “Not as much as I love it when you do.”

  Darcy began flipping through the photos, quickly at first, but then she slowed down. Emerson glanced occasionally at the screen, but mostly watched Darcy. Her face reflected a combination of discovery and wonder. “You’ve…These are incredible.”

  “You’re incredible. I only captured what’s there.”

  Darcy shook her head. She liked to think she had a reasonable amount of confidence when it came to her appearance. Nothing exceptional by any means, but attractive enough, and she enjoyed getting dolled up. This, though, this was something different entirely. The images on Emerson’s computer were stunning. Like all the best parts of her without the things she tried to accentuate or hide. Not all of them, of course. In some, her eyes were closed or she’d been caught in motion, blurry and awkward. But the majority made her feel beautiful and, even more surprising, seen. “You’re giving me too much credit, but still. I love them. Thank you.”

  “So, I have your permission to use them?”

  Darcy imagined seeing herself on canvas. The idea thrilled and slightly terrified her. Especially the part about that canvas being on display, for sale. But it seemed cowardly to back out now. She contemplated nixing the ones where she’d bared her breasts, but she detested the arbitrary censorship of the female body. “Yes.”

  “Any of them? All of them?”

  Before she could think about it any further, or start picking and choosing, she nodded. “Yes.”

  Emerson smiled at her. “Thank you. It means a lot that you trust me that much.”

  Darcy swallowed. Did she trust Emerson? She did, at least when it came to matters of artistic integrity. Tonight, that’s all that was on the table. “I’d be honored to be the subject of one of your works.”

  Emerson got up to set the computer on the table and shed the clothing she’d put on to take pictures, then climbed back into bed with Darcy. “Maybe more than one.”

  Darcy shook her head. “You’re something.”

  Emerson pulled the sheet over them and moved closer so that their bodies were once again touching. She gave Darcy a quizzical look. “What does that mean?”

  Darcy didn’t know. She wasn’t sure why she’d said it. Instead of making up some explanation, she hooked her leg over Emerson’s thigh, moved against her suggestively. “Nothing.”

  Emerson shrugged. “If you say so.”

  “I do. Now, how about you turn off the light so I can channel all this confidence you’ve tapped into?”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Emerson reached over and switched off the lamp.

  *****

  Emerson glanced at the clock on her bedside table. The alarm to wake Darcy up for work would be going off in three minutes. The idea that she might be developing an internal alarm clock, and that said clock seemed to be set to seven in the morning, amused her. More, it didn’t bother her. It was the little things, she decided, that made a relationship.

  She took advantage of being the only one awake and studied Darcy’s face. It was such a luxury to spend so many nights together. Emerson wondered when—or if—Darcy’s rules regarding Liam might change. Emerson liked the idea of being around in the mornings, chatting with him over cereal or bringing Darcy a cup of coffee in bed. Was it such a leap from what they had now?

  Emerson placed a kiss on her arm, her shoulder. Darcy sighed and, without opening her eyes, lifted a hand and ran it through Emerson’s hair. “Morning.”

  “Good morning.” Emerson placed a kiss on her lips.

  The alarm went off then and Darcy groaned. She rolled over and shut it off before flopping on her back. “I so don’t want to get up. Being with you is making me lazy.”

  “You’re not lazy. I’ve been keeping you up way past your bedtime.”

  Darcy nodded. “This is true.”

  “Why don’t you hop in the shower? I’ll make coffee.”

  Darcy rolled toward her. She draped an arm over Emerson’s shoulder and rested her chin on it. “You’re very sweet.”

  Emerson shrugged. “I try. After last night, it feels like the least I can do.”

  Darcy climbed out of bed and padded to the bathroom. Emerson hauled herself up and went to the kitchen. She started a pot of coffee, looked at the dishes they’d abandoned the night before, and decided she’d deal with them later. While she waited, she stared out the window and started thinking about which photo she’d use to paint Darcy first. Assuming Darcy hadn’t changed her mind. The coffee finished just as the shower cut off. Emerson fixed two cups and returned to bed.

  Darcy emerged wearing Emerson’s old flannel robe, the one Darcy had made fun of the first time she spent the night. “How is it you manage to make the grandpa robe sexy?”

  Darcy smirked and crossed the ro
om. She sat on the edge of the bed and accepted the cup of coffee Emerson handed her. She took a sip before answering. “I guess I’m just that hot.”

  Emerson nodded knowingly. “That must be it.”

  “For the record, if my ego is out of control, it’s entirely your fault.”

  “I accept that blame willingly.” Emerson enjoyed the teasing. She hoped it meant Darcy still felt good about agreeing to be the subject of a painting, or several. “Now that we’re sitting together in the light of day, are you still okay with me using the photos we took last night?”

  Darcy smiled. “I would be honored. But out of control egos aside, I also won’t be disappointed if you change your mind. My feelings won’t be hurt if you decide not to do anything with them.”

  “Honey, I can assure you that won’t be the case.” Emerson walked over to her desk and pulled a piece of paper out of a folder. She handed it to Darcy. “It’s a pretty basic release.”

  Darcy skimmed the document. “I don’t get royalties? I don’t know…”

  “If you feel—”

  “I was kidding. I meant it. It would be an honor if you decided to use me in a painting.” She took the document to the kitchen counter and picked up a pen, printing and signing her name at the bottom.

  “I’m the honored one. If I can capture half of what’s there, it will be some of my best work.”

  Darcy shook her head, but smiled. “If you say so.”

  “I do.”

  “Now that’s settled, I suppose I should get ready for work.”

  “I suppose.” Emerson sat cross-legged on the bed, watching Darcy dress. “What do you want to do tonight?”

  Darcy shrugged. “I don’t know. I should probably spend some time at my place doing laundry and stuff.”

  “Come on. It’s our last night before Liam comes home. We should make the most of it.”

  Darcy made a face that Emerson couldn’t decipher, but quickly replaced it with a smile. “Sure. What do you have in mind?”

  “Other than making passionate love to you until the wee hours of the morning?”