Becoming His Muse

 

They shouldn’t be together. Affairs between students and professors are strictly against the rules. But when it comes to love, some rules are made to be broken…

Logan O’Shane is a world-famous author in need of inspiration. He takes a teaching position at a small town college.

Ava is a student painter with dreams of moving to New York after graduation, even though her parents have more conservative plans for her.

When Logan meets Ava he finds in her all the inspiration he desires. Ava becomes Logan’s muse. Their forbidden affair inspires them both to passionate heights.

But with great height comes the risk of falling. Their secret is dangerous and could destroy their future. When the college is rocked by a shocking revelation, Logan and Ava may not survive the fallout.

 

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I was given this book by author for honest review. Famous author Logan becomes a professor in college. Ava is a student painter in the same college with dreams of being famous. In the forbidden lure of their relationship; they each become the others inspiration.

 

 

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I was given this book by author for honest review. Sneaking around in a teacher/student relationship Ava and Logan take a step up in their game. Hot sexy chemistry between the two sizzle the pages.

 

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Becoming His Muse, Part 1

© KC Martin

When I turn, I see that he’s silently stepped a little bit closer to me so that he’s looking down his straight narrow nose and into my upturned eyes. There’s a barely discernible divot in the bridge of his nose, as if it were once been broken and then quickly reset. I’d never have noticed it if we weren’t standing so close together.

“What about you being in my office? Is that against the rules?” he says quietly.

We both have our hands chastely by our sides, but then one of his reaches out and grazes mine. His index finger brushes along the outside of my baby finger. It’s a tiny movement, barely visible as motion, but it sends a shiver down my spine. I stare at the rise and fall of his chest under his white cotton shirt. Two buttons are undone and I can see the smooth texture of his skin underneath. It has a warm bronze glow to it, next to the white shirt, which means he had managed to acquire at least a kiss of a summer tan. From where I stand I see no chest hair, just smooth skin, and the edge of tiny scar beside his collarbone.

“You could be giving me a tutorial,” I say, unaware, until I utter those words, that my voice has grown rough and dry, as if some deep desire lodged in my bones has risen and is leaking through my muscles and skin.

“Is that why you’re here? For a tutorial?” His whisper is hoarse now, too.

I shake my head. Reality intervenes. What am I doing standing in the middle of his office with such desire radiating off my skin?… I feel as if I could catch fire.

“There are a few things I’d like to teach you, Ava,” he whispers.

My breath catches in my throat, but I manage to say, “If it goes beyond reading and writing then it is definitely against the rules.”

‘Oh, it does. Quite far beyond. Do you like breaking rules, Ava?”

I shake my head. I have a habit of following rules. That habit has served me well over the years. Because of that, some part of my brain takes stock of this situation and I step back, away from him, breaking the spell of words and charisma he’s weaving around me, the web of desire we’re weaving together…

“We can’t do this,” I say, shaking my head again.

“Do what, Ava? We’re just standing here in my office talking. Two consenting adults…”

 

Becoming His Muse, Part Two

© KC Martin

I narrow my gaze. “Your first lesson is to tell me how to write text messages?”

He looks up from his phone, his eyes all dark and hazy.

“My first lesson?” He sets his phone down on the edge of my built in desk. With his hands free he reaches for the bottom edges of my T-shirt, which he begins to lift. I tense up. He looks me in the eyes.

“You don’t want me here?”

“It’s not that.” When he stands this close to me, when he’s within ten feet of me, all I’m aware of is how much I want him everywhere.

“Good.” He lifts my T-shirt and I don’t stop him. As he slides the shirt over my head, my hair tugs and loosens, the tie falling to the floor with the shirt. I look down at my simple black bra. No lace, no bows.

“Nice,” says Logan as his eyes, and hands, rove over the plain cups. “You are more beautiful unadorned.” He kisses my collarbone, a light kiss on each side, as he unclasps my bra at the back. He does this one-handed, and with this simple move he reveals another layer of his extensive experience. I feel young, unprepared, inadequate, until he says,

“But you are most beautiful utterly naked.” My bra drops to the floor. I expect him to take my breasts in his hands or his mouth but instead he reaches for my face, his thumbs rubbing along the ridges of my cheekbones under my yes. “Without make up, without clothing, without expectations. Just here. Just alive. Just present.”

His gaze into my eyes is so deep, and he doesn’t blink. I feel mesmerized, and then I think I might cry. I feel so exposed as he holds me with his look, his hands.

“My first lesson,” he says. “Is to show you the hold you have over me and the hold I have over you.”

 

Becoming His Muse, Part 3

© KC Martin

Logan hails a taxi. We climb in.

“11^th and Waverly in the village,” says Logan to the cab driver.

“I thought you lived in Soho,” I say.

“I sublet my apartment for the duration of the residency so we’ll be staying at my friend’s place.”

I’m a little disappointed. I wanted to see Logan’s apartment, his home.

“He’s gone for the weekend. But he always keeps the place well-stocked—food, booze, music, movies, condoms. We won’t ever have to leave.”

I whack him on the arm and laugh. “I’m here for the museums and you know it. I want to see art, be inspired, soak up the genius of masterpieces.”

Logan leans over to me and whispers in my ear.

“The only art I’m interested in is the masterpiece between your legs.”

I’d have whacked him again, and harder, for a crack like that, except that the way he says it is utterly genuine and full of longing.

His green eyes bore into mine and he adds, “And what’s between your ears, of course. It’s not what you think. You are my inspiration, Ava. All of you. Your gorgeous body, your eyes, your mind, the mole on the outside of your left breast.”

He reaches for it as he says the word.

“Logan! We’re in a taxi.” I glance at the cabdriver.

He laughs. “You think these guys haven’t seen everything already driving around this city?”

He slides his hand from my knee to my upper thigh. My whole body tingles.

He leans closer and whispers more ardently.

“Ava, everything about you inspires me. And when I am between your legs, when I’m inside you, I feel a masterpiece growing inside me. So if you, my inspiration, want to go look at dead people’s paintings to get inspired then I will trail along behind you, waiting for you to be filled with a passion that art gives you, until you are overflowing and ready to lie back and let me take my fill of you.”

I’m afraid he’s going to try to do that right now. He’s sliding his hand right between my legs. His fingers brush up against my soft folds, and I instinctively want to give in to his touch, but we’re at a stop sign and people are looking in the cab window. I push his hand away and try to distract him.

“What about your chapters?”

This seems to work. He releases me and leans back against the seat.

“I’ll give what I have to Lowell this weekend. These next few days will no doubt inspire me to write a whole bunch more over Christmas…At this rate, I’ll be done by spring.”

Which is when I would graduate. Then what? What will happen to us? When he finishes his novel, will he be finished with me too? But I don’t want to spoil this magical weekend in New York, this first time we can really feel free to be ourselves, together, so I push thoughts of the future away for now.

 

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KC Martin (aka Catou Martine) writes about discovering the true power hidden in pleasure and living with an open heart.

She loves to travel, spending as much time as she can in Paris, London, New York, and Los Angeles.

Cat believes stories have the power to change hearts and lives. Love, eroticism, and sensuality provide the greatest inspiration for the heart. When we claim our pleasure, we activate our power and embolden our hearts to create lasting change in our lives and the world.

 

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