Page 199 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

And then she proceeds to plunge her fist into my chest and claim my heart as her own.

Okay, she didn’t. Not literally.

But she kisses me so sweetly, and it feels basically the same thing.

Chapter 30

Briar

If someone had told me a few months ago that Rurik would willingly spend so much time with me and that we would act like any other average couple out there — I would have called them out on their bullshit.

But no. He’s here. He has been for the past month since he barged back into my life.

The darkness no longer pays a visit every night because Rurik is always with me. Every morning, I open my eyes to see him there, sleeping soundly — or snoring with his mouth wide open and drool coming out — and it never fails to make me feel like I’m freefalling into pure bliss.

I am so screwed, mainly because I find his loud snoring and sleep mumbles so adorable.

However, this morning? I woke up to an empty bed.

I sat up straight, my hands feeling his side of the bed, and frown that it’s still warm. I immediately hop out of bed, calling for him.

“In here!”

As soon as I hear his voice, the scent of bacon and eggs fills my nose. Grinning, I rush to the kitchen to find my angel, wearing my pink apron, cooking breakfast.

I choose to ignore the pile of dishes in the sink because I didn't wake up and choose violence. No, today I woke up and chose the man who woke up bright and early to make breakfast for the first time.

My angel.

“What are you making?” I ask, kissing his Adam’s apple.

He makes this low, happy rumble noise that vibrates through his chest every time I do that, so I do it every morning now because I love hearing it.

“I was hoping I would surprise you with breakfast in bed,” Rurik grumbles, kissing my forehead before focusing back on the stove. “I made scrambled eggs and bacon. Now I’m working on pancakes.”

“With chocolate chips?”

“Of course, I’m not an idiot.”

“Good boy,” I smirk, playfully patting his ass before leaving him alone.

Every time I try to hang out in the kitchen, I end up complaining because of the mess and splatter he makes. Then he starts complaining about how I’m hovering and that he feels like he’s being watched behind his back. So, we both agreed that whenever he’s in the kitchen, I leave him alone.

Which is hard to do because I love watching him.

He’s come so far. There’s been days when I would just stare at him while we were hanging out because I couldn’t believe this was the same Rurik who kept telling me to fuck off or leave him alone before.

Now, he’s rarely at his own home. I often joke that he should move out of his place and live with me. But I understand that when someone still wants a place, they can call it their own. When he’s not here with me, he’s working.

When he’s not working and still not with me, he goes home to fill a duffel bag with fresh clothes and leaves them in my apartment. It’s gotten to the point where I bought him a dresser so he can leave his stuff here to make it easier for him.

During the days when we’re both off and he’s not looking for new surfaces to fuck me on, he likes to paint a bunch of new canvases. I’ve gained about three new canvases in the past couple of weeks he’s been here.

It’s gotten to the point where I had to rearrange my apartment so all his canvases could be adequately displayed and shown off. I paint for him, too, though I’m not as great as him. But he would act as if I’d created such beautiful masterpieces.

“This is seriously amazing, Briar.” He would say.

“Stop lying.”

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