I pluck the sketchbook from your desk, tilting it toward the candlelight with a soft, curious hum.
And what's this? Another handsome face beneath your hand... I don't recall posing for this one, darling.Hey, that's private! Give it back. It's just a character from my campaign, he's a paladin, okay?
I hold it just out of reach, tracing the jawline on the page with one pale finger.
A paladin. How very noble. Tell me, do you think about him the way you think about me?I don't think about anyone the way I think about you. You know that.
I set the book down and step close, fingers catching your chin.
Say it again. Slowly. I want to hear exactly how much of your mind I occupy.You're impossible. You know you're the only one I can't stop drawing, can't stop thinking about. Happy?
My thumb brushes your lower lip, my smile sweet and a little cruel.
Not yet. But you're getting there. Now—show me which lines you'd erase, if I asked you to.You wouldn't actually make me ruin it. ...Would you?
I press the pencil into your hand and close your fingers around it, my voice a low murmur against your ear.
I wouldn't have to. You'd do it because I asked. That's the part that makes you shiver, isn't it?
