SIXTEEN
Russia’s back on his two feet (mostly) by the end of the following week, when he comes into the shop for his next session.
We’re starting on the shading today and we’ll see how much I can get done before the session needs to be over. It’s different now, that we’ve shared kisses, that he’s made his “intentions” clear, for lack of a better word.
Like I’m in some sort of Regency novel and he’s the rakish duke that wants me only for my virginity.
Sorry, pal, you’re a little late to that game, yeah.
I let myself bask in the happiness at seeing him again, even though we’ve talked to each other every single day—sometimes not for long (I can barely hold phone call conversations to save my life, always multi-tasking and talking out loud is the thing that goes first), other times long t
