Page 76 of Riot of Autumn

Ezra stops being a wimp and cuts across the living room. He scoops me up and resettles me on his lap, stealing the seat I was just in. At least it stops my embarrassing babbling.

He leans down and presses a kiss to my lips that takes my breath away. My arms twine around his neck and after a minute I can’t even remember my name, much less what the hell we were talking about.

Ezra’s panting, eyes glazed with lust, when he finally pulls back to look at me. “What did you do today?”

“Was that just a distraction kiss to stop me from talking?”

“It worked a little too well.”

I play with the collar of Ezra’s fleece and scratch my fingernails over the nape of his neck. His eyelids lower and he pulls me closer. I could avoid this conversation by kissing him again, but I’m trying to push myself today.

“I brought you something.” I cringe at how nervous I sound.

Ezra’s brows lift. “Like a gift?”

“I wouldn’t go as far as that. In fact, you might want to give it back to me.”

Ezra’s fingers gently squeeze my sides. With a reluctant sigh, I push off his lap and walk to his bedroom.

“Wait, are we done talking? That doesn’t seem like the end of that conversation.”

“God, you’re so impatient,” I call out from the bedroom. My heart pounds as I pick up the painting and carry it out to the living room.

Ezra’s face goes blank. His eyes dart back and forth between me and the painting. Then a small smile spreads until he looks fucking giddy. “Did you bring me a painting?”

“Don’t get too excited. It’s not like I brought you bars of gold.”

Ezra stands up, “No. This is way better.”

I scoff, gnawing on the inside of my cheek as he comes to a stop in front of me. I let him turn the painting around, wanting to shut my eyes while he looks at it, but I don’t.

“Ruby.”

“I know. It’s probably garbage, but out of the dumpster fire, this one is my favorite. I was thinking of you when I painted it. And even though things weren’t what they should have been between us, I still wanted you. And…yeah.”

The painting is one that I’d done in a frenzy, spending hours without a break because I had to get it out. It’s an abstract riot of colors, reds, oranges, and a gold that reminds me of Ezra’s eyes. It brings to mind a sunset exploding, a gorgeous fall day, and a lightning storm all rolled into one.

It physically pains me to stand next to it, waiting for Ezra to say anything.

Ezra’s hand grips the back of my neck, and he tips my head back. The gold in his eyes stands out bright right now, matching the lightning strikes in my painting.

“This is fucking incredible,” he whispers against my lips and my body sags with relief. Not that I thought he’d tell me it was shit, but maybe I was steeling myself for some bullshit placating about how nice or interesting the painting is.

“It’s like seeing a piece of your soul on canvas.” Ezra shakes his head as he looks down at me, like he can’t comprehend what he’s looking at. It’s just me.

“You’re so incredibly talented. I know you don’t believe it, but I’m going to tell you every day until it’s ingrained in your DNA.”

“Okay,” I say on an exhale.

“You believe me?” Ezra squeezes the back of my neck, nuzzling his nose along my jaw.

“I believe that you’re going to tell me every day,” I grumble.

“Ruby.”

“Ezzie,” I drawl back. “Listen. Much like my current wardrobe, I’m a work in progress. I will do my best to gracefully accept your praise.”

Ezra chuckles. “Fair enough.” He drops a kiss on my forehead, then backs up to stare down at my painting with an awe written all over his face. It makes me feel all squirmy. He moves over to the far wall and takes down a piece of art hanging there.

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