Model Position by Kitsy Clare

Author:Kitsy Clare [Clare, Kitsy]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Inkspell Publishing
Published: 2014-02-16T05:00:00+00:00

6 CHAPTER SIX

The next day in class, Dave saunters in without a steamy cappuccino for me. That’s a relief. But he sets up his canvas clear on the other side of the room, despite the fact that since we’re still working on the same (incredibly handsome) model. How can he paint the angles right that way? We’re supposed to set up exactly where we started our work. Clearly, Dave is pissed off. He must’ve spoken to his aunt. Either that or he’s still hopelessly in love with me and he overheard Erik asking me for a date the other day.

I peer at him. He’s already flirting with Harper, who is setting up her easel next to him. She’s fixed her jet-black hair in cascades of curls, and she’s wearing a full parrot-green skirt and a vest with an armful of bangles like the South-American artist Frida Kahlo. Now Dave’s hand is brushing against her arm.

Something tells me that Dave isn’t pining away for me.

I wave. He won’t make eye contact, and neither will Harper. I try again, with a more dramatic wave. Something’s not right. But Erik is headed my way, so I can’t be bothered with a million random theories about why Dave and Harper might be giving me the cold shoulder. I made my choice, and I need to live with it. The only catch is that I’ll just have to find a gallery all on my own, which fills me with trepidation.

Erik is like an early birthday present, wrapped in that loose silk bathrobe. When he leans over me to check out the progress of my painting, my senses infuse with his clean-scented warmth. He must’ve taken a shower just before he came to work, because the tips of his hair are still damp. It brings an instant fantasy to mind of us in his shower, lathering each other in sensitive areas. “Madame Muse, you are more mysterious than the Mona Lisa,” he whispers in my ear. His breath sends chills through me.

I lightly touch his hand, resting on his knee. “Monsieur Muse, you are sexier than the Greek god statuary in the Met,” I parry back. It’s all I can do not to kiss him. The taste of his mouth would fill me with an aching desire, make me want to go back for seconds and thirds. I sense he feels the same thing, because the sexual tension between us is thick, yummy, edible. But it wouldn’t be proper here in the studio. After all, this is Erik’s “office”.

As he bounds onto the stage, I see Dave glance my way and then quickly turn to his easel. Taffy and a few of the other girls are gazing longingly at Erik. The gleam of lust in their eyes is crystal clear, because it mirrors my own! I’ll need to keep a hawk-eye on the situation.

Erik adjusts himself on the leopard rug and stretches out his legs, inspiring his pecs to ripple in all the right places. I can’t help it; my gaze lands on the loincloth and the satisfying bulge.

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