Page 14 of Mine to Ruin

That’s thoughtful of him. But this is just beyond! The outdoor area outside my new workspace is an imitation of Valley of Fire, my favorite place to paint.

I rush and grab brushes in one hand, and colors in the other. The whisper of creation calls to me as I sit down in front of an easel with a blank canvas. I close my eyes for a moment and when I open them, the brush glides down the canvas.

“You’re starting now?” Lorene asks, her bewilderment echoing in the air. “But we haven’t discussed the theme.”

“Let her be.”

Kian’s deep voice slides down my neck, along my skin like satin. I glance at him over my shoulder to see he is leaning against the wall. He stands there, all confidence and power, his hands in his pockets, and the corner of his lips lift in a small smile. His eyes ask for permission.

He jerks his chin toward the exit and Lorene backtracks, mouth agape, as she takes us in.

I return to my canvas, a slight tremor of my hand stopping midway. I bite the inside of my cheek to calm my racing heart. I could tell him to leave, tell him that I like to be alone, but here with him, a spectrum of emotions keeps me prisoner.

His feet thump on the floor when he approaches me, his every step lifting my stomach into my throat. I try to ignore his heady scent. It’s unique like the man wearing it.

His hot breath tickles my neck when he leans in. As if in a trance, my hand draws a black shadowy figure hiding behind layers of dark and light greens, and an exposed woman in red peering at him from afar.

I drop the brush and turn around. Concentration transforms his face as he squints at me, then the painting. His breath hitches, and those dark gray pools collide with mine, and everything stills.

“Hmm, the man is in the center, the woman on the right, separated by endless doors. He’s hiding.”

He’s so close, his nose almost touches mine and it prickles in anticipation.

“Usually, it’s hard for people to find the meaning behind my paintings,” I murmur.

He crosses his arms over his chest and cocks his head. “I want it.”

I tilt my head at his demand. Hasn’t he heard of the word please?

“It will be entertaining to see your interpretation of us come to life,” he says smugly.

Anger unfurls inside me, and I point a finger at his chest. “Under all these layers, there is more,” I say.

“And you want to discover what lies beneath?”

His lips lift into a mocking smile. I pick up my brush and draw a curved line on his face, from one cheek to the other. I blink, and he blinks right back at me. Seconds tick as loud as my heart pummeling in my chest. Half of me wants to burst out in laughter, the other is terrified by my behavior. This man brings a recklessness out of me I have never experienced before.

I throw the brush to the side and slap a hand against my mouth. His silence stretches my nerves like a rubber band. I lift my hand to clear his face, but I smear it instead. His body rocks with silent laughter. His hand shoots up, grabbing my chin, and his mouth comes down on mine.

“You’re smiling.” I whisper in his mouth.

“I thought this was your plan.”

My hands intertwine behind his neck. “You kissed me.”

“You kissed me back again,” he says challenging me to deny I wanted it again.

“You drive me crazy.”

“Ditto, angel.”

I swallow my reply as his lips cushion mine. This time it’s me who probes his mouth, tasting the mint on his tongue. His hands wrap around my waist. I moan, and his grip tightens. When our lips part, I raise my gaze, and the warmth shining in his eyes makes my stomach somersault.

I graze the ends of his collared shirt while I say, “I am not like this.”

“So it’s just me that brings that part out, huh?” Pride dances in his eyes, and I melt.

“One moment you are a complete jerk, and the next you’re sweet.”

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