Page 134 of Last Man Standing

“I’m sorry about that, Princess.” Noisily gulping, Sebastion closes the door behind him and warms the side of my face with his penetrating stare. He’s like a big ol’ puppy who knows he peed on the rug.

Head down, tail between his legs.

He digs his hands into his pockets and wanders across the room, but if he wanted to grab on and pull me to my feet a second time, I don’t allow him the chance. I simply sketch and brace for the impact of his touch. I draw the lines that match his ink exactly, and when I’m done with the compass, I work out from there and add vines. Leaves. Flowers.

The compass is inspired by his designs. The rest, inspired by the chaos in my mind.

“Scarlett?” Shy, he lowers into a crouch and gently tucks a lock of hair behind my ear. “Hey? Did you hear me?”

“Yeah.” I carefully pull away from his touch, then I fake a smile and go back to drawing. “I promised not to assume the worst, remember? A woman coming to your room for the second time in one morning could probably look kinda bad, huh?”

“Scar—”

“But I’m not assuming the worst. And I’m definitely trusting you to be honest. If she’s a woman you’ve seen in the past, then that’s the past. If she’s a woman you’d like to see in the future, let me know before you make the transition.” Har. Har. Har. You’re so funny, Scarlett. Smile, so he knows you’re kidding. “It’s polite to leave a little space between women. Enough time to change the sheets, at least.”

“Not transitioning.” He takes my hand again and buzzes his lips along my prickled skin. “She was in my past. Not in my future.” He sucks in a heady breath and searches the side of my face. “Where do you want me to sit so you can test your sketching skills?” He attempts a playful smile. “Draw me like one of your French girls.”

I choke out a snort and tug my hand back from his grip. Not even because my heart is bleeding and I’m too cowardly to tell him why, but because I need that hand to draw. “You could sit right there if you want to. Probably drop to your butt before your legs scream out in pain.” I reach across, intending to tap his shoulder and push him back, but he captures my arm instead and yanks me clear out of my seat. He uses the momentum and falls to his butt, then to his back, and all along, he places me on his hips so I’m straddling his broad body and using his bent knees as a backrest. “I like it when you draw like this.” He sits up and reaches past me, grabbing my book and whatever pens are within reach, then dumping the lot on his chest, he lies back and grins. “If you want me to be still for hours and not complain about the scratch of a pen, then these are my terms.” He walks his fingers along my thighs and exhales a happy grunt of pleasure. “Exactly like this. I’m all yours, Princess. For as long as you need me.”

“Forever?” I open my notebook and find a page where I’ve already begun sketching his face. I didn’t tell him what I was doing, and he didn’t seem to mind lying still. But then again, we’d been intimate shortly before, and he’s always content to chill the hell out after that. “If the world was burning and everyone was calling your name, would you stay here anyway?”

“Mmhm.” He unclips the radio attached to his shoulder, switches it off, and then he tosses it a dozen feet across the room. “If the world was burning and everyone was calling my name, and I wasn’t with you? I’d come looking for you.” He licks his lips and strokes gentle patterns against my thighs. “Once I’d found you, that’s where I’d stay. I’m not even gonna attempt to seduce you.” His lips curl up at the side and show off a playful smirk. “For as long as you wanna draw, I’ll be good.”

“Very chivalrous of you.” I scan the pens available to me, select my favorite, and then I lean forward and bruise his poor chest with the points of my elbows. He never seems to mind. Tilting my head to the side to study the lines of his nose, I wonder how the professionals do such good work. But then I remember I’m no professional, and I never will be, so I put pen to paper and simply do my best. “It’s fun not assuming the worst.” I nibble on my lip, since doing so helps me concentrate. “I don’t like fighting with you.”

“Thank fuck. Because I hate fighting with you, too. I mean,” he chuckles. “I enjoy our verbal sparring matches, since bratty princess looks fuckin’ delicious on you. But I don’t like the real fights.” He inches higher and drops a kiss on the center of my forehead. “I don’t like the fights where my stomach hurts at the end and you look really, really sad.”

I don’t like those either.

“Have you seen your mom today?” I’m not using a pencil, which means I don’t get to draw and erase, draw and erase. So once I’ve added the shape of his nose as best as I can, I move on to the stubble framing his lips. “Did you explain why I left the table last night? I know I probably looked rude, but I⁠—”

“Nobody thinks you were rude.” He massages my thighs, squeezing and releasing as if he needs something to do with his hands. “And yeah, I saw her earlier. She’s spending her day with Uncle Bas, since dinner last night completely wiped him out. She asked how you’re feeling this morning.” A soft tinge of pink warms his cheeks. “She’s actually really cool, Princess. I know you don’t believe me, but she’s more than this cranky, mean jerk you’ve met. She’s⁠—”

“I believe you. Keep still.” I brush the tip of my pen across my page and try to copy the exact shape of his jaw. So strong. So firm. “I’m not dumb, and I know this thing between me and her isn’t personal. She’s protecting her family.” I peek up at his eyes; scared, when they’re usually hard. Wary, when they’re typically fearsome. “If I thought my brother was in danger, and if I thought Nova was the reason for it, I’d probably behave the same way. We do what we must for the people we love.” I force my focus to his stubble, not my heart. On his steady pulse, and not how much this whole mess hurts.

Arabella can’t stand to be in the same room I’m in for more than five minutes, and even if she could, if the world went to shit and he chose me over her, it would hurt him anyway.

Irreparably.

Which means we both lose no matter what.

“I’m not mad at your mom.” I bring my eyes back to his and add, truthfully, “I’m really not. Intimidated by her,” I clarify with a nod. “Yeah. And a little scared. But she’s not wrong for protecting her family.”

“Scar—”

“Have you dropped in to see Bas this morning?” I mess up on the line of his neck and the bulge of his Adam’s apple. It’s not quite right. Not proportionate. So I study the real thing again, then go back to my page and attempt to alter the lines. “It’s really great he could come to dinner last night, but I hope it wasn’t at the expense of something more important.”

Like his life.

“Yeah, I visited him.” Taking my hint, he allows us to move away from his mother and onto more pleasurable topics. Like death. “That woman,” he rasps. “Serena? She’s one of his nurses.”

“Oh?” So you’ve already met up today? Cool, cool, cool. “That’s nice. Is she good to Bas?”

“Mmm. She’s competent, and Uncle Bas says she takes good care of him.” He brings his hands to my hips and massages. “Bas was asleep when I swung by this morning. But my mom was there, and Serena too. They said he’d been awake earlier, and though he’s tired, he’s doing alright.”

“Did he wake while you were there?”

Disappointed, he shakes his head and grunts out a nuh-uh. “I’ll go over again later today. Maybe poke him a bit, see if I can wake him up.”