Page 61 of Painting Celia

She opened her eyes, looking up into his with a smile. He felt it all the way down his spine.

“It’s fine. Not so cold when I’m not wet.”

He smiled back. Casual. “I’ll try to go fast.”

“Do what you need to do.”

He swallowed, his eyes flickering to her lips again, then returned to his easel. He clipped a light to his palette so he could use it when needed without ruining his night vision. Then, clearing his mind, he tried to recapture the feelings of the night before.

The serenity, the slow echoes of water expanding from her shape as she floated, the watery turquoise ripples of light that washed over her skin, the golden kisses of light from the house glancing off the peaks of her body.

The calm before the storm.

He exhaled deeply. Tranquilo. Gone were the morning’s annoyances. It felt right this time.

Finally, finally, he started brushing colors onto the canvas. His heart lived in these simple motions. He knew where the colors wanted to be, how they layered. The painting created itself. There was truth here, this vulnerable shape she made. His brush caressed the curves on the canvas as though it was his hands on the woman before him.

The tip of his brush lingered over the spot where her neck met her shoulder. Looking up, León almost expected her to shiver, ticklish.

He tried not to look too often. The urge to finish what his brush started was tempting. He tried to channel the rawness into the paint instead, but he did have to look sometimes. Celia was his model.

His, dammit.

León painted as fast as he dared. If he could put those defenseless shapes on the canvas, stroke after stroke, his hands mastering her shape…

His breaths were coming a bit fast as he finished. There was touching up to complete later, but he’d gotten it. She was captured.

“Celia,” he said, clearing his throat as the word came out rougher than expected. “We’re done. I hope that wasn’t too long.”

“Already?” She didn’t move, giving him time to be sure.

“Already. You can get up.” Again, he hated to see her move but had to release her.

She slowly sat up. “That wasn’t long enough to get cold.”

He found her robe and passed it to her, eyes down. Turning his back, he struggled against words that might inflame the moment. Casual.

Instead, he started moving his equipment back inside. The hard-won painting absolutely needed time to dry without the danger of being disturbed.

He set it inside on the easel by his cot, where he could contemplate it. The dim lamp over his bed illuminated it gently. It was good. More than good. Maybe the best thing he’d ever done. The honesty and intimacy he talked about with Celia were there.

He calmed himself, forcing his breathing to return to normal. It was over. He’d gotten his painting without doing something rash.

Outside, he heard a splash in the pool. Head snapping up, he went out to see.

•••

That had been the edgiest session Celia had ever sat through. The way his whole body tensed when he looked at her! The cords on his forearms tightened, his head lowered, his long fingers stiffened on the paintbrush. He was all coiled energy, almost predatory, threatening to charge if she provoked him.

Maybe she would provoke him.

Her body had thrummed as she lay there, feeling a lovely rush of electricity every time his black eyes raked over her. He’d almost kissed her once. If he would drop that tight control and just kiss her now, she’d welcome him. The idea sent a shiver down the length of her body, nearly disrupting her pose.

Once he’d released her, she sat motionless on the blankets, alive to every movement he made. Repressed energy had welled up unbearably, but she remained still. He’d barely disappeared inside the pool house when she jumped up, shaking her hands to release some of the wild tension. It wasn’t nearly enough. The pool in front of her was a familiar solution.

•••

León came out to see her underwater, the splash from her dive already fading, her shadow streaking toward the far end of the pool. She reached the far end without coming up for air, turning and pushing off while still submerged.

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