Page 102 of Dirty Like Dylan

“But I also believe sometimes you need to take help when it’s offered,” she added meaningfully. “I’m making my own way now, the art is selling, but I never would’ve been able to get this far, this fast, without Jesse’s help and support. Or Dirty’s. So. Anytime you want, you can have a show here, and I’ll help you get a crowd in.”

“Um…” I studied her; her soft, kind eyes. “Look, no offense, okay? But is this just sweet drunk talk? Because if it is—”

“It’s not drunk talk. Yes, I’m kinda drunk. But it’s not drunk talk. Brody hooked me up with this art promoter and I’ve made some contacts of my own, too, in the gallery circuit. Plus, the guys know a lot of people with money. And there’s no shame in accepting the help. I can help you set up and work with the promoter and fill the room with buyers. You can give me a cut of sales just like any gallery so you won’t feel like it’s a handout, except my cut will be lower than anywhere else in town.” She beamed, looking pleased with the idea. “So it’s good for both of us.”

“How is that good for you? I mean, trust me, my photos won’t be going for twenty grand at my first show.”

Katie cocked her head a bit, like I’d said something silly, and blinked at me. “Because I’d be helping a friend,” she said simply.

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” she said, laughing a bit. “Deal?”

She held out her hand to me.

I told her I would think about it—seriously—and I shook her hand. I promised her that if or when I was ever ready to do a show of my own, I’d be in touch with her. I meant it. And I thanked her, profusely, for the offer. It was a lot to process, but I was pretty sure I would take her up on it, someday.

I was also pretty sure I’d check in with her tomorrow, to make sure it really wasn’t just drunk talk.

Then Dylan collected me, and once we’d said all our goodbyes, I left with him and Ashley. It was late, near three in the morning, and the guys had already decided we weren’t boating home. Instead, we drove to Ashley’s condo.

They were both pretty quiet as Ashley pulled me into his bedroom. Dylan followed, and for some reason, I was afraid to speak first.

Maybe because I wasn’t sure where we were all at. From moment to moment, our three-way “situation” (I was refusing to call it a relationship, even in my own mind) had me ill at ease. Or elated. Or any number of other emotions.

Scared. Excited. Nervous.

Scared again.

Excited again…

And the guys hadn’t really said much to me the entire way home.

My head was still kinda spinning from Katie’s offer, and also, if I was being honest, from all the mental imagery of Dylan and Ashley schmoozing with all those other women tonight.

I hoped maybe they were just being quiet because they were tired, and not because Dylan was pissed at me for giving him the world’s dirtiest look at the art show, as if he’d had his hand right up that blonde woman’s dress instead of, you know, just standing there beside her. But when I glimpsed the look on his face—the way he was undressing me with his eyes… that clearly had nothing to do with it.

Ashley stood me in front of the bed and started taking off my new dress, while Dylan turned on a lamp and stripped off his clothes. He pulled back the covers and lay down naked on the bed. He stretched out on his side, his cock just barely covered by the sheet, watching as Ashley stripped me down to my lace panties. They were new, too, a gift from Ashley to go with the dress. Skimpy, sexy and black.

Ashley stood behind me, kissing my neck, running his hands teasingly over my body, making me warm. I stirred, anxious for more, as Dylan’s gaze moved slowly over me. It drove me fucking insane when Dylan looked at me like that—like he wanted to lick every last inch of my body like an ice cream cone with his long, adept tongue. Slowly.

Except he wasn’t making a move to do that.

Ashley pressed a soft kiss beneath my ear and I reached back, pressing my hands to his thighs, gripping him through his jeans. “Come here,” I said to Dylan. My voice was breathy, anxious. Hungry. “Please.”

But Dylan just shook his head at me, once, and said, “We want an answer to our proposal, Amber.”

“What…?”

“We want a commitment,” Ashley murmured against my neck.

“You haven’t given us one yet,” Dylan added, still watching us from the bed. He looked incredibly comfortable lying there, naked, in front of both of us. His gaze, though, was intense, restless, as he watched me in Ashley’s arms.

I actually had to struggle to follow what they were saying as Ashley’s hands drifted over my curves.

“Um… did you just use the word ‘commitment’?” I asked, as Ashley kissed his way down my neck. “I thought men, in general, were allergic to that word.”

“Who said we were ‘men in general’?” Ashley retorted as he grabbed my breasts and squeezed. “And I don’t wanna have to worry, every party we take you to, about any of those other assholes getting their hands on you.”

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