Page 18 of Dirty Money
Weston pulled away. Aullie leaned forward, involuntarily guided by her lips that weren’t quite ready to break the kiss yet.
“Want to get out of here?” he asked. “You’ve given me quite a lesson today, now I’d actually like to see some of your art.”
Still dazed, she said, “Yeah, sure.”
By the time the bug was parked in front of her building, Aullie was drowning in panic. Sure, she shared her art with her friends, her mother, her brother, but rarely with guys that she was dating. They usually didn’t care, and she was ok with that. Especially after her flop at the last art show, her confidence in her work was wavering and her confidence in her place was even less.
Had she put all her mugs in the sink? Or were they littered throughout the tiny apartment like Easter eggs, like they usually were? She knew she hadn’t made her bed. Her easel was even out.
Dammit, she thought. All Aullie wanted was an excuse to keep him out of her space, to keep the super-rich, super-gorgeous man away from the shoebox of an apartment where she lived. Nothing came to her, though, they were already there, and what could she really say? Well, she convinced herself, you wanted to see if he wanted the real you. Here’s the first real test.
Weston opened her door for her, with a perfect, charming grin. Aullie hoped the smile she gave in return didn’t look as strained as it felt as he gently gripped her hand and helped her out of the low seat.
“Lead the way,” he said, gesturing at the squat concrete building. Aullie walked ahead of him, around the side of the front buildings.
She lived in the far left building in the back, in the back corner on the second floor. The walk felt as though it took forever, as her involuntary shame built up with each step. The metal stairs rattled noisily as the pair climbed, a testament to their lack of quality and cheap construction.
“Well,” she said, taking a deep breath as she jiggled her key in the lock on the weathered door. “Here we are.”
Weston looked happily expectant, almost excited, as she pushed the squeaky door open and they entered her colorful, personal little world. Just as she had dreaded, Aullie’s place was a mess. Her eccentric mugs were scattered all over every surface, her work jeans were pooled on the floor where she had stepped out of them the night before, and her crazy patterned comforter hung off the side of her lofted bed. Little red dots of embarrassment and shame bloomed on her cheeks as Weston followed her inside.
“It’s very, um… colorful.” His eyes tracked up and down the art covered walls. “Are these all yours?”
“Yeah,” Aullie replied. “Some of them are school projects, some of them are my own stuff. I’ve tried to sell them at shows, but for now, they just live here.”
“They’re beautiful,” he remarked, awestruck. “I can’t believe you really did all of these. Why haven’t any of them sold?”
His question slid like a knife into her gut. Aullie tried to keep her face passive and shrugged. “Don’t know,” she answered, curtly.
Weston was oblivious to her reaction, his gaze trailing up and down the walls. His eyes were wide and he at least seemed to be genuinely admiring the paintings. “I love your place too, it’s really interesting.
That’s one way to describe it, Aullie thought. Her entire place was probably the size of his bedroom. Her entire place technically was her bedroom since she couldn’t even afford a place with walls. What had she been thinking bringing him there? Why let him see again what completely different leagues they were in, what completely different lives they led?
When Weston turned to face her, Aullie’s arms were crossed loosely over her chest self-consciously. Her face must’ve betrayed her inner turmoil because his brows furrowed and he asked, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” she said, shrugging again with a non-committal gesture.
He didn’t buy it. Weston came closer to her and brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear, bending to meet her downcast eyes. “What?” he asked again.
“Just the same things,” she said, shaking her head. “This place must look ridiculous to you. My entire apartment could probably fit in your closet. Plus all my cheap, crazy, colorful crap…”
“Hey,” he said, looping his arms gently around her waist. She had to admit it felt good, though she still felt the urge to shy away from him. “First of all, none of that matters to me. It really doesn’t. And secondly, how big do you think my closet is?”
His joke made her laugh.
“Plus, I like you. You. And this place is very perfectly you.”
His hazel eyes were warm, his voice was so silky, and his smile was so sexy. When he leaned down to kiss her, Aullie reached up and met him halfway.
He had said all the right things, everything she needed to hear, and she was happy to put her lips on his. Weston pulled her tighter around her waist and Aullie looped her arms around his neck as the kiss intensified, an impressive heat built between them. Their bodies moved together, almost swaying in a slow seductive dance. His hands ventured lower, cupping her perky little butt in his wide hands and she rocked her hips and ground against him.
It was so different, she realized, to be kissing him in a more intimate setting than it was in public as their previous kisses had been. His body was solid, he definitely spent some time in the gym, and Aullie trailed her hands down his firm, swollen pecs. His tongue explored her mouth in slow, sensuous strokes.
When he broke away, she sighed. Aullie wasn’t ready, but when his mouth pressed to her neck, her knees practically buckled. Things heated up even quicker as his kiss trailed down to her collarbone. Weston’s hands roamed back up to her waist, where he lifted her shirt.
When his lips brushed her stomach, just above the waistband of her jeans, she felt a flutter a little lower. It was so overwhelmingly erotic, she couldn’t restrain the tiny moan that escaped her lips. Aullie bent over him, securing her fingers in his dark golden hair. He kissed her once more, before pulling away suddenly.
The rush of blood and endorphins to Aullie’s head left her dizzy and disoriented. All she could think was, where are you going and why?
