Chapter 7: The Safelight

Elise's POV

He kissed me hard, and I kissed him back with my whole body.

My back was against the studio door and his hands were in my hair, and every pin I owned hit the concrete.

"Slower," I said against his mouth. "No. Don't. Don't go slower."

Emmett laughed, low and unsteady.

It was the first time I had heard him laugh like that, and I wanted to hear it again.

"Make up your mind."

"I did," I said. "Where's the darkroom?"

He stopped.

"Elise."

"The one nobody can see into. The one with the lock."

He looked at me for a second, and then he took my hand and walked me across the studio.

The door had a bolt. He shot it behind us.

The red bulb above the sink turned the whole room red, and the bottles on the shelf glowed.

The air smelled of vinegar and paper.

It was very small.

There was a steel counter, a sink and a rack of drying prints.

Emmett Voigt looked at me in that light and did not look away.

"I don't want you to think," he said, "that I'm doing this because of him."

"I know why you're doing it."

"Tell me."

"You've wanted to since July." I put my hand flat on his chest. "I've been watching you not do it for two months."

His breath left him in a rush.

"Can't hide anything from a baker," he said. "You people notice when the oven's on."

I reached behind me for the zipper of the green dress and couldn't find it.

"Let me," he said.

"No. Watch."

I found it myself and drew it down, one slow inch at a time, with my eyes on his face.

The dress slid off my shoulders and fell.

He made a sound I felt in my knees.

"Elise," he said, hoarse. "You're so..."

"Don't talk about it. Come here."

He came.

He kissed my throat and my collarbone, and his hands were careful on my ribs.

I took his hand in mine and pressed his palm over my breast, then slid it down between my thighs where I was already wet.

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