Becoming His Muse, Part Two by KC Martin Page B

sadness lodges in my heart. Logan can be so warm one moment, so cold the next. But is it coldness, really? His words are true. I can’t argue with the truth. But I want to. I want to know he’s mine. All mine.
    “At the moment, I can assure you of one thing, Ava,” he says. “All my condoms have your name on them.”
    “Really?”
    “Yep. Every foil packet has a tiny A-V-A written on it.”
    “Seriously, you label your condoms?”
    “Helps to keep me focused.” He winks, but I can’t tell if he’s joking or not. He adds, “I told you before, I favor quality over quantity. And no one around here compares to you, Ava.”
    He leans in close, brushes his lips across my temples. “Does that make you feel better?”
    I nod, feeling his soft lips move across my forehead. “I don’t want anybody else,” he says. “I want you .”
    “I want you, too.”
    He kisses my eyelids and the bridge of my nose. “We should go back. Everyone’s going to be wondering where we are.”
    He’s right, Ruby could send out a search party any minute now.
    “When can I see you again? I mean alone. Naked .”
    I hear a little catch in his breath. I wrap my arms around him, pull him close, felt him stiffening again under his zipper.
    “See what you can do to me?” he whispers.
    “I can do more,” I say suggestively.
    “Not tonight. I need to write.” I loosen my grip. I have to respect his need to create.
    “Don’t you have early studio time?” he says, reminding my own creative priorities, which feel blurry when I’m in his presences.
    I nod.
    “Let’s go in,” he says, grabbing my hand.
    “Probably not together though?”
    “Good point.” He pulls out his smokes, taps one out, and sticks it between his lips. “You go in first.”
    I pull the unlit cigarette out of his mouth and kiss him long and deep.
    “I wish you’d quit that filthy habit,” I say.
    He grabs my ass and squeezes. “Which one?”
    I run my fingers lightly across his crotch feeling the outline of what I missed tonight. Then I walk into Mick’s, aware of all I gained.

Chapter Twelve
    The next morning on my way to the studio, I remember what Logan said about his condoms. Was he just joking?
    Maybe I’d start carrying condoms with Logan’s name on them. That way, if we got caught up in a moment like the one outside of Mick’s again, at least I’d be prepared. I could print his initials, L and O. I wonder if he has a middle name? I wonder a lot of things about him now. I know he’s from New York City, grew up there, and not in the fancy parts. He’s the grandson of Irish immigrants, and I sense he had a tough childhood, a difficult relationship with his father, but other than that I know little about his roots and his family. I want to look at the photos in his office again, to ask him about those people, ask him about the things that matter to him.
    Pushing through the art building doors, I remind myself that, right now, I have to focus on what matters to me. I have at least a dozen more paintings to complete before my February show, and half of those I haven’t even started yet. Soon it’ll be Thanksgiving and then Christmas and the New Year. This secret affair with Logan is proving to be both an inspiration and a distraction. On the one hand, my imagination and creativity has skyrocketed, on the other, I am so intoxicated by his taste and his touch, I’m thinking about him more than my studies.
    As I turn down the hall to Studio 21, I see Jonathan up ahead. He’s leaning against the wall, looking tired. He doesn’t hear me coming but turns his head when I say,
    “Hey. What are you doing here so early?”
    “Ruby,” he says by way of explanation.
    When I raise an eyebrow he adds, “She’s not feeling well. Sent me to cover for her.”
    “Oh.” That changes my plans. I can’t work on Mad For You like I wanted.
    “Is that a problem?” says Jonathan rubbing his eyes. He’d probably like to go back to bed.
    “No, no. It’s