Jasmine
“Turn slightly toward the window. Chin down, just a fraction.”
I adjusted, holding the pose while Davin circled to check the angle, the charcoal already moving before he’d fully settled back at the easel.
We’d been at this well over an hour now, longer than any session since we’d started the paid arrangement, and my legs had started sending up quiet, insistent complaints that I was doing my best to ignore.
“You said an hour,” I reminded him, and not for the first time that night, either.
“I said approximately an hour,” he responded, his gaze fixed on the easel.
I yawned. “That’s not what approximately means, Davin.”
“It’s exactly what approximately means if you’re the one holding the charcoal.” He didn’t look up, though I caught the faint curve at the corner of his mouth. “F
