Page 107 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

This fucking asshole.

I swear, if I didn’t want to fuck the hell out of him and make out with his tasty lips, I would have probably punched his face in and told him, “You’re lucky someone like me is into you.”

But I won’t do that.

“Fine,” I mutter, feeling more annoyed than excited now. “Anything else, Your Highness?”

His nostrils flare slightly, and his shoulders tense visibly. “That’s all I can think of at the moment. I’m sure I’ll come up with more in the future.”

Ugh, why did I want to get inside his pants again?

“Do you have any boundaries?” He asks stiffly, clearing his throat.

Yeah. Fuck your rules.

Boundaries, Briar. He has boundaries.

“Yeah,” I clear my throat. “Tell me you missed me.”

Rurik’s eyes widen, “What?”

“You heard me, sexy.”

His face flushes pink. “No.”

“Is that a 'no, I don’t miss you,' or a 'no, I won’t answer you'?”

Rurik's voice took on a sharper edge, laced with irritation. “No.”

I feel like I could spit hellfire with how pissed I am right now. But I’ll be chill. I won’t push him. I’ll be good and wait. I’ll make him answer me eventually.

I just roll my eyes at his monosyllabic answer. “Fine.”

He exhales a sharp breath and swallows hard. “Is that all? You must have more.”

“I’m sure I’ll come up with more in the future,” I throw his words back at his face. I pull out my phone from my pocket and quickly send him my apartment address. “I just texted you my address. Want to come over tonight?”

His phone vibrates, notifying my text, and his brows furrow as he reads it. He sighs after a few seconds, and our eyes clash.

I don’t like the look on his face.

“You know what?” Rurik sighs. “I don’t think we should do this. Now that I think about it, it’s a bad idea.”

This motherfucker.

This time, I can’t contain my frustration.

I roll my eyes, let out an exasperated groan, and snap at him. “You know what, Rurik? This whole hard-to-get, push-and-pull game you love playing between us is getting fucking old. I want you. You want me. So what’s the issue?”

Rurik's posture stiffens. “I don’t know, Briar.” He leans forward so only I can hear, “Maybe it’s the fact that you go around killing people.”

“Oh, please,” I scoff, waving my hands dismissively as if the last few seconds of our conversation should be fucking erased. “Some people drink and gamble, others kill. No biggie.”

“Briar,” Rurik growls deeply, his eyes glaring at me so intensely that I just want to smother him with my mouth.

“Rurik,” I mock, leaning forward until our faces are so close. I could count his lashes and see a little scar above his left eyebrow.

God, he’s so fucking beautiful for an asshole.

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