Page 100 of Rivals
“Have you, now?” he asks with a sarcastic tilt.
“Oh yeah, you are usually just mean. Then, if you’re not being mean, you’re teasing me. All of it is justrude,“ I emphasize the word.
He scoots closer to me and rests his inked hand on my cheek. “No, baby. Rude would be getting you all worked up and then leaving you hanging,” he says with that thick, smoky voice that makes my legs squeeze together. He runs his hand up the inside of my tense thighs and rubs circles on my skin. I lean into his touch, and then he just pulls away. I catch myself because I was leaning too far forward. Then he saunters away.
“See?” he throws over his shoulder.
I shake my head because I fell for it. “That’s not just rude, Lach. That’s just plain cruel. But two can play that game.”
“Oh? Is that right?” he says, setting a canvas on the easel.
“Be careful, Lach,” I say.
He chuckles, and I consider the small canvas. “So, what do you want to do?” I ask. He does the thing I love and crosses his arms. It makes his muscles bulge, and tattoos pop. He tilts his head and rubs his thumb over his lips.
“We’ve seen some pretty cool places. Maybe we could go back or find another place. Maybe that will give us some inspiration,” he says. A crack of thunder sounds, and it starts pouring. I go over to the window as a few people run past with newspapers or hoods covering their heads.
“Well, that’s probably a no,” I mumble, staring through the glass.
“I have something,” Lachlan says. I turn from the window. “But, I want you to just sit there for me,” he says, gesturing to the couch.
“I meant brainstormingtogether.“ I cross my arms and level him with a stare.
“But it’s what came to me.” I roll my eyes and plop down on the couch.
“Fine, this better not be like thatotherpainting you did,“ I grumble and make myself comfortable.
He smiles widely, and it makes me blush. “I’ll have you know, I really enjoyed making that one,” he says with an edge of pride.
I roll my eyes, and he growls. “Oops,” I sigh. He shakes his head and looks between me and the canvas multiple times. I don’t know where to look, so I look back out the window.
“Can I move?”
“No,” Lachlan says, drawing out the word.
“Are you doing some kind of posed portrait? Am I your girl with the pearl earring?” I ask. He looks at me again and then paints something else on the canvas.
“Well, you’re definitely my girl,” he says, and my stomach flutters. His brush returns to his palette, and I watch him gather a few more colors, mixing them in a different area. I stay there relaxing against the couch and watch him work.
A few hours later, I stand to stretch my legs. Lachlan grumbles incoherently, and I sigh. “Fine, then give me one of those smaller canvases,” I demand. He stops, brings me a pencil and canvas, and drops a couple of paint tubes on the floor next to me.
I stare at him, and he stares back. Our eyes go back and forth between each other and the canvas. I decided to do a piece with Lachlan of his expression when I looked up at him, observing the ceiling above him. It’s that moment that I want to imprint in my brain when we were at one of the many places we visited. How he looked at me before he observed anything we were there to see. I think it’s one of my favorite Lachlan faces. It’s something I want to remember forever.
I get past my sketch on the canvas and lay it against my chest. “This isn’t what I had in mind for tonight.” I sigh, looking at him. He drops his hands.
“I’m sorry, baby. What do you want to do? I’ve been enjoying myself, though. I will say that.” He grins mischievously, and I frown, wondering what he’s up to. I flip the canvas and lean it against the couch so he can’t see it. Then I creep towards the easel. Lachlan grabs my wrist before I can get there and yanks me to him. “Nope, you don’t get to see it yet,” he says, kissing my nose.
Then he steps to the side, reaching for my canvas, and I don’t stop him. He flips it, and I watch his smile slowly build. “I should make one of you, looking up with stars in your eyes,” he says. While he studies mine, I peek at what he did. It’s both of us, which I didn’t expect. He’s got his hand around my throat, and his lips are on mine. The expression— “Hey!” he says and pulls me away.
I bite my lip, trying to hide my smile, and he shakes his head. “No fair, I told you, you couldn’t look yet,” he says. I hug him and lay my head over his rapidly beating heart. “Now you’re going to have to pay for that,” he whispers in my ear. A thrill runs through me.
“Oh, is this your way of being rude?” I smirk up at him.
His gaze darkens, and the corner of his mouth tips up. “That’s it, muse. Now you’ll know exactly whatrudemeans.“ He leans over, griping my waist, and throws me over his shoulder. I shriek and laugh while slapping his butt. He shakes it as he walks us to our bed.
He hunches his shoulder and tosses me, so I land on the mattress with a bounce. The bed creaks as he crawls over me. Lachlan leans in and kisses my lips briefly. A question bubbles from my lips. “Why do you like painting or drawing me, or us, so much?” His expression closes up a little, clearly not expecting my question. I admire his green gaze as he stares down at me. Every time he looks at me, it feels like an awakening. I’ve been asleep this whole time until him.
He drops his weight off to my side and cuddles me into his body protectively. He sighs and puts his nose in my hair. “I meant what I said. You are my muse, but there have been so many moments with you. I want to catalog them all because I don’t want to forget them. You know how it is with depression. Sometimes, you can’t remember it all. I want to be sure that I do. I don’t remember much of my childhood, just the cold, bad parts. I’m sure there was some good, though.” He sighs and hugs me tighter. “I don’t want to risk losing any memories with you.” I scoot my body as close as I can to him. I wish memory loss was a side effect of my depression. I might be better off for it, but no. I remember everything.
