Page 18 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

“What the hell is wrong with you? Are you insane?”

“I’ve been called worse.”

I try to shove her off of me, but she doesn’t budge.

“That’s not something to be proud of — Get off me!”

She pouts, “But you keep running away from me. I figured sitting on you would keep you in place, angel.”

Why the hell does she keep calling me that?

I try to stand up, but her thighs squeeze so tightly that it throws off my balance. I can feel puffs of warm air coming from her lips, brushing against my skin, making me want to clam up. Turning my head to the side, I find that the strands of her hair follow my movement as if they have a mind of their own.

Fuck this shit. What the bloody hell is her problem? I growl, shooting her a glare filled with fury.

“I have to know something, angel,” Briar’s eyes glimmer with unrestrained insanity as she says, “Have I done anything to offend you? I’m pretty sure we just met today, but you've been acting as if I smashed all your artwork.”

“What makes you think we just met today?”

She raises a brow, “I would have known if I was touched by an angel.”

My face falls. She’s on drugs. She must be. No sane person would be as deranged as this woman on my lap.

“So?” Briar presses. “What have I done?”

My stepdad said you're highly dangerous. Also, I need to stay the hell away from you.

But I don't want her to know about him. So I say, “You're too aggressive. Too forward. Now get the hell off of me before I do something that'll end up with you buried six feet under.”

Shit. No, this isn't me. I don't go around threatening people!

“Ugh, fuck. Keep talking dirty to me — It’s making me hot and bothered,” She rolls her hips teasingly, grinning at me when my whole body stiffens and my palms slam against her thighs.

To stop her. That’s it.

Fuck.

Crazy, psycho migraine of a woman —

“Oh, hello there,” Briar giggles softly, looking down between us with her brows raised. “Does someone want to come out and play with me?”

“Fuck off!” I growl, my fingers digging against her thighs as I try to push her off again.

“Normally, I hate being manhandled, but when you do it? It feels so damn good,” She gently rubs our noses together. “More.”

“Get the hell off of me, Briar!” I shout, but the more I try to push her off, the tighter her legs squeeze my waist.

“Love the way you say my name.” She purrs, “and the way you hold me. I feel so protected.”

“I will fuck you up if you don’t stop.”

“Oh, yes, please do.”

“Briar, if you don’t get off of me, you’ll see!”

“What? What will I see? You? Naked? When? Now? God, yes.”

Her finger lightly brushes against my Adam’s apple, causing me to swallow hard. Her eyes quickly fixate on my throat, and they darken with a crazed gleam that should spur me to run away and escape.

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