Page 94 of Lies He Told Me (Bratva Crime Syndicate 1)

This time, though, I let the thoughts come and go, an unwelcome soundtrack to the swift sounds of my paintbrush hitting the canvas. More paint. More shapes.

Only footsteps break me from my painting reverie.

I back away, embarrassed, like I’ve been caught at something.

Gavril stops a few feet away, staring. I follow his gaze to the painting, finally seeing it, as if for the first time.

Of course.

This isn’t my usual colors or my usual uplifting scene … at first glance. It’s a different kind of uplifting.

It’s Gavril. My savior. My husband. And … maybe something else?

The man in the painting is severe-looking, all harsh lines and opaque colors and yet, there is something under that, something I think I just managed to get across—the humanness, the tenderness under the hard exterior.

Is that how I really see Gavril? Is that how he really is? Or is it just how I want him to be?

“Come here.” Gavril’s voice vibrates harshly.

I turn to him, studying his face. There’s something in his eyes I can’t place.

“Here.” He takes away my paintbrush, letting it drop to the floor. And then he kisses me. That’s when I understand that he understands. He understands the painting and the artist alike.

And the burning way he’s kissing me, like he can’t get enough of me… Right now, I want to give into this feeling, this wave of emotion that’s more like a whirlpool, the way it’s sucking me in.

But it scares me too. It’s been a long time since I’ve thought,“It’s just a job, nothing more”when I’ve been around Gavril. I peel away, pick up my paintbrush, and swish it at him playfully. “You ever paint here?”

For some reason, the question seems to sadden him. “No,” he says finally, “I wasn’t the one … No.”

His gaze strays over to the far corner, then grows mischievous. “You didn’t find them?”

“Find what?” I ask.

He strides over, flipping open the cap of a blue paint tube and spreading it over his hands. “This.”

Uh, what in the what now?

Before I can say another word, he strides over and strokes the side of my face with his blue-paint-smeared hand.

I jerk back. “Hey! Asshole!”

He squeezes some paint from the tube onto my other cheek, rubbing it in. “It’s washable.” Smears his lips into it and a kiss. “Edible.”

The realization thumps between my legs. “So that means …”

His smile knows already. “I’m going to have fun with you tonight.”

He spurts out a streak all the way from the top of my head all the way down between my legs. Then, he uses his hand to smear it in, stopping there.

“Jerk,” I murmur. I snatch the paint tube out of his hands. “Your turn.”

I smear a bit of blue under his nose, then stand back to view my creation.

Gavril sighs wearily. “You gave me a mustache, didn’t you?”

I can’t keep it in anymore—I burst out laughing. Gavril’s fighting a laugh himself, then all of a sudden lunges for me. “C’mere. You’re going to pay for that!”

I’m off at a dash. It’s not hard, running away. This place is huge, its high ceilings throwing back the slap of my slippers on the floor.

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