"Yes, love. I want your flower."
"*Cough*"
Normally, I wouldn't understand what he meant. However, after deflowering me, I couldn't feign innocent about the meaning of his words.
Still, this story wouldn't progress if we kept doing it the whole day.
After clearing my throat, I sported an awkward smile. Failing to speak of something to divert the subject, I raised my brush and stroke its tip on the apex of his nose.
Sam narrowed his eyes. "Are you trying to change the subject?"
"I want to make you a flower!" I blurted out.
"You want to paint on me?"
"No!" That was definitely not my intention. "I can see my reflection in your eyes and I had this charcoal all over my face. It's not fair!"
Where did I adapt this talent to find excuse? Regardless, it sounded strangely believable.
"But you said you don't mind."
"Now I do!" I hurriedly argued back.
