Famed
artist, Maxfield Caswell is missing.
Three of
his major paintings have been savagely defaced and his house left in ruins. As his
friends search for him, does his muse, Ava, hold the key?
Before
the hope of love is lost, secrets will be told, spirits will be broken, and a
price will be paid.
From the
cave dwellings of New Mexico to the shores of Malibu, Max and Ava’s journey tests
them to their limits. As they render passion and pain in broad strokes, will
their all-consuming love rise from the debris?
Max pov #3 12/28/14
That day in the printing studio we were doing the delicate dance
we’ve always done when Ava whispered to me.
“Come closer…”
I didn’t have to be told twice.
As I watched her on the press, swaying her hips while
dragging colors across the screen, any restraint I had melted like snow falling
on fire. She was touching my art—her scent, her breath becoming part of it. I’d
always loved Ava, but now it was beyond me not to have her in every way.
When I was behind her and pressed against her, I could
barely breath. I was like a teenager about to make love for the first time to the
girl he’d given his heart to. It was unreal…the glory of my hands on her bare
skin, moving slowly across her hips and up to her breasts. My lips kissed her sweet
neck as my eager fingers slid between her legs and into her warmth.
She was brilliantly electrified. When she rocked her ass
against me I lost my sight for a moment. The raw lust was powerful enough to
render me blind to anything but the feeling of Ava in my arms.
In that perfect moment how did everything explode apart? My
cock is still hard for her. The bastard has a mind of his own—Ava rejected me
but he’s desperate to have her after a thousand hours of want.
I’ll never forget the look on her face as her heart twisted
shut. In the silence of the studio the sound of her cries still haunts me.
“You’re wrong…I didn’t want to fuck!” She yelled as she pulled
away, and without her arms holding me I fell off our cliff. She had tethered me
to her world with threads of sanity and without them I tumbled, not sure the
direction of my descent.
As I fell, every color in the room but red faded, and the
red glowed hotter until I could feel the burn all over my body. We were so
close to becoming one and now we’re shattered fragments. Hope is nothing to me
now but a four-letter word.
I’m destined to be without her. I don’t deserve her and now
I must live with this emptiness as my loss slowly…painfully…eats me alive.
On the way to my car, he stops me. “Ava, I need to say
something.”
“Yes?”
He pauses on the walkway, looks down and kicks a pebble
toward
the
lawn.
“I know that as much I’d like to…I can’t ask you not to
see
Jonathan…”
What? I glance up at him with my head tipped to the side.
He’s twisting his hands together as I wait for him to
continue. He
finally
looks me square in the eyes.
“…But, will you do me a favor? Don’t fall in love with
him.”
I arch my brow. “Did you really just ask me that?” Should
I tell him
there’s
little to no chance of my falling in love with Jonathan now?
He gets a devilish look in his eyes as he holds up his hands
in surrender.
“I
know, I know…I just don’t want you to get involved with
him
on the rebound.”
I put my hands on my hips and arch my brow. “Max, to be
on the
rebound
you have to have been in a relationship to rebound from.”
He seems to ignore my logic. “Besides, Ava, you could
still be really
attracted
to me and not know it.”
“Really? I don’t think my attraction to you is in
question.”
“Yeah, what if you’re secretly falling in love with me?”
I playfully push him on the shoulder. “You wish!” I tease.
“There’s only one way to know for sure. Don’t you think
you should
know
before you go out with Jonathan again?”
“One way to know for sure?”
“Yes. Kiss me. I promise I won’t touch you—look, hands
free!” He
tucks
his hands into his back pockets.
My mouth falls open as I press my thighs together. Just
the idea of
being
kissed again by Max makes me instantly hot and bothered.
“Just one little kiss,” he says in a low voice.
I can’t believe he’s playing this game with me. But the
fire in his eyes
and
the sweet smile on his face are more than I can bear. I take a step
toward
him. Two can play this game.
“So, if I feel nothing, we’ll agree to be friends—that’s
it—no complications.
And
I can friggin’ marry Jonathan if I so choose.”
He makes a sour face, but nods anyway.
I bite my lip as I look into his eyes. One kiss, one
kiss…I close my
eyes
as I edge closer until I can feel the heat shimmering from his skin.
“Oh, Ava,” he whispers, a deep longing in his voice.
His breath on my cheek undoes me, and when our lips meet,
they
meld
together as if they’d just kissed a moment earlier. We kiss languidly,
sensuously,
our tongues meeting in an erotic dance. He gently
bites
my bottom lip before I press my lips even harder against his. An
overwhelming
current suddenly surges through me, practically knocking
me
over.
Oh my God! I’m
on fire. I run one of my hands along his shoulder
and
behind his neck, pulling him closer, while winding my other hand
into
his hair and tugging it passionately. Our bodies are pressed together
so
tightly I feel as if I’m one with him.
He moans my name over and over as the kiss intensifies.
I’m lost in
his
sweet mouth, his lips turning me into a traitor to logic and reason.
When I finally pull away to gasp for air, he grins
widely, and the
bright-eyed
expression on his face is victorious. He gambled big and
won.
Like there was ever a question—he owns me. He probably has all
along;
it’s just taken me all this time to figure it out.
He studies me with a spark in his eyes, and he takes a
sharp breath.
He
takes his hands out of his pockets as if to grab me and never let me
go.
My heart’s so full I can’t help but shine with a smile.
I remember we’re taking things slow, so without a word, I
hurry to
my
car before he can say something to draw me back into his arms. But
even
as I flee the charged atmosphere and speed down PCH, I can feel
his joy follow me all the way home.
Ruth Clampett,
daughter of legendary animation director, Bob Clampett, has spent a lifetime
surrounded by art and animation. A graduate of Art Center College of Design,
her careers have included graphic design, photography, VP of Design for WB
Stores and teaching photography at UCLA. She now runs her own studio as the
fine art publisher for Warner Bros. where she’s had the opportunity to know and
work with many of the greatest artists in the world of animation and comics.
The Work
of Art Trilogy is Ruth’s third publishing endeavor, following Animate
Me and Mr. 365. She lives in Los Angeles and is heavily supervised by
her teenage daughter, lovingly referred to as Snarky, who loves art and
visiting museums as much as her mom.
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