Page 165 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

She tiredly groans, her legs buckling and bringing me down with her until we’re both just a puddle on the floor with our limbs tangled together and our lips touching every inch of each other's faces.

When we finally pull away, Briar grins up at me.

I can’t stop grinning back as I trace the pout of her bottom lip with my thumb. “What are you doing to me?” I ask her with a sigh.

She leans back and smirks. “I knew you would fall for me.”

“Fall for you?” I raise a brow and scoff. “Someone thinks highly of themselves.”

“I was feeling high just moments ago, yeah.” She chirps, kissing under my jaw.

I roll my eyes before glaring. “You never answered my question. Who was that man you were speaking to at the park?”

Her lips twist smugly. “Why? Jealous?”

“Briar,” I growl.

“Ooh,” She playfully shudders. “Keep up with that sexy, rough voice.”

“Briar!” I warn again. “I swear to fuck, if you don’t tell me who the hell he is, you’ll see...” I trail off when her grin widens.

“See what?” Briar says, cocking her head sideways.

“What?”

“You said I’ll see. What will I see?” She grins, squeezing my cheek. “You did this last time. You don’t finish your sentence, and I’m getting impatient. I want to see!”

I growl and tickle her sides, earning a burst of laughter from her.

After a few minutes, she calms down, blinking up at me. Her eyes are beautifully bright, and her lips curve into a small smile.

Why does it feel like someone is pressing their fist against my ribs with just the way she's looking at me? It's unsettling. But... I can't say I dislike it either.

God. Fucking. Damn it. I am fucked.

She giggles at the undoubtedly stupid expression on my face.

I sigh as I gaze at her.

Gorgeous. She’s so fucking gorgeous.

I inhale deeply, breathing in her sweet scent as I kiss her again.

“No one,” Briar finally answers me when I pull away. “He was a target. He used to work for Mr. Rogers, and I guess things didn’t end well.”

“So you were sent to kill him?” I ask with a sigh, placing a hand around her neck and tracing her throat.

She shrugs. “If I consider him a threat, yes. But I think he’s just an idiot that Rogers doesn't have to worry about.”

“Do you do this a lot?” I ask, wanting to know everything about what she does.

Her eyes narrow. “What?”

“Kill people just because your boss asks you to?”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s kind of what a job entails, right? You do what the boss says.”

“Even if it’s not the right thing to do?”

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