Page 78 of If You Give an Artist a Killer Muse

Shit.

I place a hand on top of his. I frown, an uneasy feeling sliding down my back. “Uh, are you okay, angel?”

“What the actual fuck,” He exhales, almost bewildered, as he reopens his eyes, their gaze now hooded as they bore down on me.

Glad that he’s still able to speak, I grin and wink. “Congratulations on getting your dick sucked for the first time, Rurik.”

He never tears his gaze from me.

I raise a brow, seeing his head beginning to nod off in a slow, bopping rhythm. Before I can ask if he's okay again, he repeatedly blinks as if trying to chase the sleep quickly creeping into him.

Unfortunately, he loses because seconds later, his eyes droop, and his chin lands on his chest.

I stare at him.

Wow.

Pat yourself on the back for making him cum so hard that he literally passed out from exhaustion.

I fucking will, thank you.

I stand up and locate his bedroom and bathroom. After rinsing my mouth with an unopened travel mouthwash I find in one of his bathroom cabinets, I quickly run to Rurik’s side, throwing his arm around my shoulders as I bend my knees to pull him off the couch. He leans his whole weight on me, and even though he’s this big, muscular guy, I’m also strong.

The perks of the job training I was given.

“Briar,” he murmurs sleepily.

I glance at him to find his eyes still closed. “Yes, angel?”

He murmurs something, but I don’t catch it.

“Sorry?” I ask, literally dragging him to his room. “Can you repeat that?”

He groans as I dump him on his bed. He murmurs again as I remove his shoes, pull his socks off, and strip him from his work shirt and pants until he’s just wearing his boxers.

Instead of jumping his bones like I want to, I lift his blanket and pull it up to his chin. I tuck the blanket securely around him and kiss his lips.

“Sweet dreams, Rurik,” I whisper, kissing his forehead before straightening up.

He mumbles something, and I only catch the words “heart,” “caramel,” and “migraine.”

I frown at the randomness of his ramblings.

Has he been eating too many caramel bites, and is it giving him migraines or headaches? Judging by the lack of actual food I saw in his kitchen, I’m not surprised. Rolling my eyes, I make a mental note to buy him some ibuprofen to give to him the next time I see him.

Chapter 13

Rurik

I slowly open my eyes, feeling the prickling heat from the sun shining down my face.

What the…?

I blink, staring at the window.

How and when did I go to bed? The last thing I remember was —

Fuck.

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