Page 53 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

“I don’t know,” I scoff. “Because you and Nat have been trying to keep him from me. Why do you guys do that?”

Oscar sighs, his eyes darting around the crowd until he finds Nat’s. “It’s not that we want you away from him. It’s just…”

I wait. When he doesn’t continue, I groan. “It’s just what?”

“You know, it’s not our place. We just think…”

“Did you skip elementary school?”

“What?”

“I’m just wondering because I could have sworn we were taught to finish our sentences when conversing.”

Oscar glares at me, “You’re such a bitch.”

I grin widely as if he had just given me the best compliment ever.

“Oscar, stop flirting with me when you have Nat.”

“Listen, Briar. It’s not in my place to say, but Rurik is one of my good friends, and he has this…”

I can’t hear whatever the hell Oscar is saying because I spot a familiar dark head of hair making his way to the back room. All at once, I feel a surge of positivity wash over me, lifting my spirits significantly.

There he is!

“Why the hell are you smiling? Did you hear what I said?” Oscar’s annoying voice interrupts my thoughts.

“Sssshhh, Oscar. Go away.” I grumble, “Go kiss Nat or something.”

He lets out a string of curses as I walk away from him, my attention zooming in on the only man I have eyes for.

*-*-*-*

I poke my head inside the room, looking around until I spot Rurik in the corner, stacking boxes on top of a table. I’m tempted to run and jump on his bones, but this is one of those times when I can pay attention to him without his usual glares and snarls.

He looks entirely focused, with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his beautiful forearms. Fuck, how can forearms make me go fucking feral? A sigh escapes my lips before I can stop them, and it grabs Rurik’s attention.

He whirls around to face me as I gently close the door.

I grin, “Hello, angel.”

Rurik's gaze lingers on me briefly, his Adam's apple bobbing as he swallows. I moisten my lips, and he runs his fingers through his hair before sighing deeply. His eyes flicker with frustration and anger as he shoots me a piercing glare.

Ugh, he’s so handsome.

I just want to lick every inch of him until I taste every bit of him.

I slowly walk up to him, not missing how his eyes darken as he backs away. His back hits the table, and he stumbles, making him grunt.

Fuck, what a sexy sound that is.

What other sounds can he make?

I stand toe-to-toe with him, inhaling deeply when he lets out tiny bursts of breaths. The intoxicating woodsy spicey scent of his is fucking mouthwatering, and I want to swallow him whole. I stand on my toes, my nose brushing against his Adam’s Apple as I breathe him in.

“What the hell are you doing here, Briar?” His voice comes out roughly.

“Ssssshhh,” I whisper, placing my hand on his shoulders because I need to balance myself from the way he’s so close and smelling so divine that it’s making me dizzy. “Unless it’s something along the lines of ‘yes, Briar, fuck me,’ I don’t wanna hear it.”

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