Rock Solid

by Lisa A. Olech

  “It’s also called the Adonis belt.” Max pulled his shirt over his head and pointed to the area on his body. “Here.”

  Emily sucked in a breath. “Yes, that would be exactly what we’re talking about.”

  “Photographs are good for some things, but they don’t replace real flesh and bone.” He stood next to her sculpture. “Now, I model for you.”

  Having him next to the piece was helpful, but him being so close, in only his jeans, was making it difficult to think. Her hands trembled as she gathered her tools and reworked the angle of the muscle. She added more clay along the furrow she was creating and blended it with wet fingers.

  “Give me your hand.” His dark eyes held hers. When she hesitated, he shook his head. “Come. Give it to me.” He didn’t wait but grasped her wrist and placed her hand, still slick with clay, along his hip.

  Did the temperature in the room just rise twenty degrees? Emily gasped as he slid her hand over his hard body.

  “Do you feel that?” He unfastened his jeans and lowered one side. “Close your eyes. Use your sense of touch. Can you feel the play of the muscle beneath the skin?”

  Sense of touch? What should she do with her other senses currently on overload? She could smell his skin, the earthiness of wet clay. Her heart pounded, blood rushed in her ears, and his music filled the room. Her tongue traced her lip. She still tasted his kiss. Even with her eyes closed, she pictured him in complete detail. She opened her eyes and smiled. “Are you trying to help me or seduce me?”

  He slid her hand lower. Her fingertips grazed the length of his erection. “Which do you think?” Max grabbed her other wrist and tugged her against him. Her hands smeared his chest with clay before winding around the back of his neck. “All day creating my new sculpture, I’ve had my hands on your body, smoothing your skin, caressing your curves.” His lips brushed hers. “Now I want your hands on me.”

  She shook her head. “How is this helping me?”

  “You will see. Art is passion. Your passion. Seduction. Don’t be afraid to infuse it into the work. Make love to the piece. Give it a soul.”

  Max led her back to the clay and encouraged her to paint him with slip. “Feel the heat of my skin coming through the clay? You must feel the same heat from your piece. Forget the angles, forget the photographs. Close your eyes. Feel it with your hands.”

  Emily moved back to her statue. Max stood behind her and lifted the shirt from her body. Slick hands ran cool, fluid clay up the overheated skin of her back and circled her waist. The sensation was erotic. Closing her eyes, she let him guide her hands to the figure’s hip. Remembering the feel of Max, she smoothed and caressed the clay into the play of the muscles.

  Behind her, he breathed into her ear, “Yes, that’s it. Are you feeling me?”

  “Oh, God, yes.” Her fingertips tingled as she stroked the clay like a lover.

  “That’s right. Yes. Just like that.” He kissed the top of her head. Slippery fingers teased the underside of her breast. “Perfect. Open your eyes.” He pulled her back against the wall of his chest and kissed her neck. “You did it.”

  Emily gasped. The figure was perfect. It looked brilliant. She sharpened the ragged edge of the ribbon and spun in his arms. Emily crushed her mouth to his. Relief and gratitude added to her desire. Her passion for him was spinning out of control. Wet, creamy clay from his chest stained hers. The sensation of his slick skin against hers pushed her need over the edge. “I want you now!”

  “Yes. Now.”

  Emily left his embrace only long enough to rid herself of her ruined jeans and help him find the extra condom he’d luckily picked up this morning from the living room floor and shoved into his pants pocket. While he rolled the thin latex sheath over his erection, Emily gathered up even more clay slip and coated the strong span of his shoulders. She gasp as he spun around and decorated her as well. Clay plastered his hair where she clutched a handful as his mouth crushed hers. Dirt covered the side of his throat where she lay a line of kisses. The taste of clay in her mouth didn’t slow her building heat.

  Fingered smears raked up her thigh as Max lifted her and urged her to wrap her lubricious legs around his waist. He entered her in one impatient thrust. Backing her against the wall, he drove into her deep and hard. Over and over, until she bit against his shoulder to stifle the scream of her powerful release. Emily hung on tight until his body shuddered around hers in a fierce climax of his own.

  With a satisfied moan, he lowered them both to the floor and cradled her in his arms. The clay on their bodies whitened as it dried. When she was able to breathe at a normal pace again, Emily was horrified by the state of the studio. Clay was everywhere. All over the floor, on the wall, on them. Her project was unharmed. It was perfect, but the workspace was a disaster.

  “We’ve made one hell of a mess.”

  He kissed her hair and tipped her chin to place another on her lips. “No,” he smiled, “we just made magic.”

  Scooping her up in his arms, Max carried her upstairs to his shower where he cleaned them both. Afterward, they picnicked on the rug in the living room, eating whatever they could find in his sparse kitchen, drinking wine, and talking.

  Aside from the fact their lovemaking had reached epic levels, beyond the fact she could think of nothing other than him, Emily was coming to love spending time here in his apartment. She relaxed here. She could breathe here. No frills or overstuffed bookcases. Not a rooster in sight. It was decorated much like the man who lived here. Sleek and uncluttered. Hard lines and sharp contrasts. The more she came to know him, the more he continued to surprise her.

  While he insisted on taking care of their mess in the studio, Emily stumbled upon Fame. She gave a little gasp of surprise discovering Maximo’s most famous statue tucked in a corner of the living room. It stood on a polished black pedestal behind a sprawling houseplant. It wasn’t the full-sized piece, but rather the original mock-up of the woman bound and gagged and blindfolded. The figure evoked strong feelings in Emily each time she saw it, but somehow, seeing it here, being able to reach out and touch it, increased those feelings tenfold.

  Max stood behind her. So engrossed in admiring Fame, she hadn’t heard him come back upstairs. He handed her a glass of wine.

  “This has always been my favorite piece of yours. It’s so powerful. So emotional. Part of me feels her screams.”

  “She can’t scream. She’s been silenced.”

  “Yes, but she must be screaming in her mind. The idea of being totally out of control of your destiny. Blind to what’s to come. Helpless. Unable to escape. I can feel her panic.” Emily reached out and touched the piece. “I want to tear at the ropes holding her.”

  “That is the irony. She wants the ropes. She tied them herself.”

  Emily slipped an arm about his waist and laid her head on his chest. “But she couldn’t have known they would strip away her soul. That’s why she’s screaming.”

  Max tightened his hold on her and kissed the top of her head. “You are beautiful, talented and wise.” He stroked her cheek with the edge of his thumb. “Will you stay?”

  She could stay just like this forever. Wrapped in his arms, feeling the strong beat of his heart beneath her cheek. Part of her wanted to rush out and tell the world she was in love with him, yet she respected his need for privacy. She understood the binds of success, so she was content to stay cocooned in this moment with him. The rest of the world could fall away. “I’ll have to go home sometime, but not tonight.”

  ****

  “Hey, stranger.” Trixie came into the sunny kitchen just as the rooster crowed seven o’clock. Emily was finishing her breakfast.

  “Hey, Ma.”

  “I feel like I haven’t seen you since Sunday. You’ve been getting in later and later.”

  Emily brushed crumbs from her fingertips. “I’ve been busy at work.” It wasn’t a lie.

  Trixie poured coffee and popped bread in the toaster. “It’s not good to burn the c
andle at both ends. You have a hectic weekend coming up.”

  Em scribbled some notes. “I know. I’ve been sitting here thinking of all I have to do. I need to get over to the school and turn in my final term piece today. I have my last fitting this afternoon and I still need to find something to wear to the damn bridal breakfast. I want to stop at the studio later.” She’d only left Max an hour ago, but she missed him already.

  “Well, make sure you wear something you can strip out of easily.”

  Emily shot her mother a look. “To the studio?”

  “No, silly, to the bridal breakfast. You’re all due at the salon for hair and makeup afterward, and you don’t want anything you’ll have to pull over your head. Are you sure you don’t want me to book you in for a spray tan? Most of the bridesmaids are coming in tonight.”

  “Positive. I always end up turning orange. Not the look I’m going for next to pink satin. Besides, I can’t fit one more thing into my schedule.” Not if I want to spend time with Max before the weekend. “In fact, I have to get to school.” Emily grabbed her keys and pushed her notes into her backpack before swinging it on to her shoulder.

  “Your father always used to say, ‘No rest for the wicked.’”

  If you only knew. “Bye, Ma.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Emily wheeled her piece into the professor’s exhibition hall. Several artists had already set up their end-of-term works and the display held some interesting projects. Next week Stoddard would open their doors to the public for their summer exhibit to showcase all their talents.

  Her figure was titled Steel Ribbon, and she was still amazed at how it turned out. Max was right. Now it screamed passion. She would never look at it again without remembering how that level of passion came to be. It gave a whole new meaning to mud wrestling.

  Em had spent the last three hours burnishing the exterior of the clay to a rich gloss, without the use of a fired glaze. She was pleased with the softer effect. The negative open space between the swath of muscled detail created a unique play of light throughout the piece. She and Max had made magic. She’d given it a soul.

  After the weeks of frustration in her studio at home, her work was back on track. It was all thanks to Maximo. His studio inspired her. He inspired her, and to have him appreciate her work was the icing on the cake…or the clay on the wall. Both were incredible.

  “There you are,” Maddie called from the doorway. “I thought I’d find you in here.”

  “And here I am.” Em was dusting the heavy stone anchoring her piece. “What do you think?”

  “Wow.” Madeline crossed her arms and tipped her head to one side. “I love this one a lot. You had me worried there for a while. Your work wasn’t showing the same spark I’d seen in your earlier pieces. Nice to see you back in top form, especially in light of this morning’s phone call.”

  Emily turned the sculpture half an inch to the left. Perfect. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”

  “I received a call from an art agent who’s interested in talking to you about possible representation. She’s planning to stop by sometime today and was hoping to catch you.”

  “She? Does this agent have a name?” Emily had a sneaky suspicion she already knew.

  Madeline read from a sticky note stuck to her sleeve. “She’s the owner of Lavender Blue Art Agency, Beverly Lavender.”

  “Did I hear someone call my name?”

  Both Madeline and Emily spun toward the door. Emily tried unsuccessfully to stifle a groan. Maddie shot her a horrified stare before welcoming their visitor.

  “Ms. Lavender? I’m Madeline Sullivan. We spoke earlier.” She pumped Beverly’s hand with a bit too much enthusiasm.

  Beverly took the first opportunity to snatch her hand away and pasted a bemused smile upon her painted lips. “A pleasure, Ms. Sullivan.” She glanced about the room. “You’ve some impressive students here, Ms. Baskins included.”

  “We do, indeed. If you have some time, I’d love to show you around. We—”

  Beverly stopped her with a hand and a quick shake of her head. “I wish I could, but I’m terribly busy today. Perhaps we might schedule a tour for another time. In fact, I’m wondering if I might steal Ms. Baskins away. Is there somewhere private could talk?”

  “Certainly.” Maddie peeked over her shoulder at Emily. “You’re finished here, right? Why don’t you take Ms. Lavender into the lounge, where you’ll both be more comfortable.”

  Crossing her arms and leaning a shoulder against the wall, Em shook her head. “I doubt Ms. Lavender will be staying long. I’m comfortable right here.”

  “Emily—” Maddie hissed.

  Beverly’s smile never wavered, yet Emily caught the brief frown before she returned to her honey-coated conversation with Madeline. “Ms. Baskins is right. I’m sure our chat won’t take too long. Here is fine.” She flashed Maddie a hundred-watt smile. “Would you excuse us?”

  “Yes, of course.” She shot Emily one final, What the hell is wrong with you? glare before she left.

  Beverly watched her go.

  Emily pushed off the wall and returned to dusting the base of her sculpture. “I’m guessing this has nothing to do with representing me.”

  “You know, Emily—may I call you Emily?” She stepped closer. “I’ve underestimated you. You’re a lot smarter than I first gave you credit.” Her hand swept the display. “And much more talented than I initially believed.”

  Em huffed a small laugh, examined the toe of her shoe, and took her time meeting Ms. Lavender’s icy gaze. “This has nothing to do with my brains or my talent. Why don’t you cut to the chase? This is about my relationship with Maximo.”

  The hundred-watt smile was back. “See, you are intelligent.”

  “May I ask how the hell you found out? I’m sure Max didn’t tell you.”

  Beverly tipped her head. “Well, I had my suspicions, of course, but you’ve just confirmed it for me.”

  Emily’s jaw tightened. “My relationship is my business.”

  “Not when it involves my client.”

  “Fine. You know.” Emily planted her hands on her hips. “That makes no difference to the situation. What Maximo and I have is a private matter.”

  Beverly gave a small laugh. “There are no private matters with public figures.”

  She could see where Beverly Lavender drove Max crazy. Smugness oozed off her like a purple fog. She had a comeback for everything and a plastic smile that was starting to get on Emily’s nerves.

  “Listen, I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot with you. If it’s true, and you care for Maximo, then we’re on the same team. I’m his agent. All I want is what’s best for him.”

  “Let me guess. You don’t believe I’m what’s best for him.”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  Emily tried to ignore the condescending tone. “No, you didn’t have to. Just your being here says it all.”

  Beverly paused, tipped her head and steepled her fingertips in front of her chest. “Try to understand, Emily, Maximo is on the threshold of becoming one of the most important artists of this century. Are you really so selfish you would put your dreams of fame and glory ahead of his?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I appreciate where you’re standing, I do. You’re a young artist struggling to get ahead. He’s successful and respected. It’s the oldest career move in the book. Hell, you wouldn’t be the first woman to try and sleep her way to the top.”

  Emily’s jaw dropped with a gasp. She’d never been so close to wanting to slap someone off their high heels. “We’re done now. You can leave.”

  “I’m giving you an easy out, here. I’ll even help you. You agree to leave Maximo gracefully, and I’ll see to it all your…efforts haven’t been wasted.” She air quoted the word. “I’ll do everything in my power to further your career. I’m thinking perhaps a local artist’s cooperative and maybe some small showings to begin with—”

  “
I said we’re done.” Emily didn’t wait for her to move. She grabbed her bag. She was out of there.

  Beverly sidestepped to block Emily’s exit. “You’re only going to hold him back, don’t you see that? I thought you cared about him. You’ll end up dragging him down and damaging his future, and he’ll come to resent you for it. This relationship will only stand in his way. Is that what you want?”

  “What I want is to get out of here.” Emily pushed past her.

  “Don’t be foolish. I’m giving you a very generous offer.”

  Emily called over her shoulder. “Screw your offer.”

  “How can you be so blind? Do you honestly believe you’re special? That you’re the only one? Get your head out of the clouds. He sleeps with them all, you silly girl.”

  Emily didn’t break stride although she felt the punch of Beverly’s words.

  “Go ahead. Ask him. But don’t be surprised if he denies it. It’s what he does.”

  Emily was running by the time she hit the parking lot and jumped behind the wheel of her Jeep. “Don’t be surprised if he denies it.” She felt ill as she turned the key in the ignition. She headed toward Vega Studio, but halfway there, she pulled over to the side of the road. What was she thinking? She couldn’t confront Maximo. He’d think she didn’t trust him. Did she trust him? Yes, but…

  The past week had been like living on a fault line. The ground kept shifting under her feet. Things had just started to be amazing these last few nights. Max was wonderful. There was no way she was going to let Beverly Lavender throw things over a cliff again.

  She dug her phone out of her bag and punched in Jeremy’s number.

  “Yeah.”

  “Jeremy?”

  “Hey, M&M, can’t talk. What’s up?”

  Several men congratulated someone on a nice shot in the background. “Where are you?”

  “I’m on the eighth hole getting my ass kicked.”

  “What?”