Page 209 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

“And how many people have seen your naked back, Briar?”

“I don’t know. A lot? I wear backless dresses, you know.”

“The scar is super low. Like almost down to your ass. How fucking backless are these dresses?”

I turn off the water and find him already enveloping me in a fresh towel, gently rubbing it to dry me off. He does this a lot, so I’m used to it. He often wears a smug expression when he sees how much I enjoy the attention.

But not today. This time? The asshole is scowling.

He steps out of the tub after wrapping himself with a towel and picks me up, settling me onto the bed while I'm still wrapped in a towel.

I begin to pump lotion onto my palms, but he releases a low grumble. He wipes the lotion from my hands and rubs it between his own palms before applying it to my arms and legs.

And he’s still wearing that fucking scowl.

“I know how to put lotion on, Rurik.”

“Yeah? It’s a good skill to have.”

The scowl is still etched on his face.

What the fuck is his problem now? Usually, I would find his scowls adorable, but it’s starting to annoy me how he doesn’t just tell me what’s bothering him.

I ask sweetly. “Does the lotion remind you of your cum? Is that why you love spreading it all over me?”

His face darkens. “How often do you let people look at you naked?”

I blink. “Huh?”

“You said a lot of people see your back.”

“I wear revealing clothes because men are easy,” I say with a shrug.

“I don’t like that you show off your body like that.”

“Angel, I’ve been doing this way before I met you.”

“What? I met you when we were 18. That was nearly five years ago! What the fuck were you doing before that age? What—” Rurik stops, shaking his head, and scoffs.

I cup his chin and force him to look at me. “I’m going to need you to pay attention to what I’m going to say, Rurik. Please listen and not say a word until I’m done?”

Rurik glares at me but nods.

My eyes flash a warning when Rurik opens his mouth to speak. He immediately purses his lips, and I continue.

“Two, even if I'm not working and decide to wear a revealing dress—I fucking will. You can't tell me otherwise, understand? This is my body. I'd walk around naked and free if I could.”

Rurik places his hands on my hips, growling like some caveman.

I stare. Am I… into this weird possessive behavior he's been exhibiting? No. Of course not. This is Rurik, and he's not crazy like me.

“You're mine, Briar. I don't like people ogling what's freaking mine. I don't like people fantasizing or thinking about you like that. I don't like people staring at your body as if they're imagining what it's like to have a taste. I don't share. I do not fucking like it.”

Okay. Maybe I do like this possessive caveman shit.

“But you're right, and I'm sorry,” Rurik continues. “I didn't mean to make it seem as if I don't want you to show off your beautiful curves—Okay, fine, I prefer you don't. I want to keep you all to myself. But you're beautiful and confident, and I know you love expressing yourself.” He huffs, bending down to kiss my knee as he says, “Sorry. I don't know what came over me. When you said a lot of people saw your naked back, I just saw red.”

“Jesus, Rurik,” I sigh. “I don’t actually stand naked in front of them or even have sex with them.”

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