AllFreeNovel
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“Don’t worry. I have her passcode. She gave it to me, when I became the featured artist in case I needed to be in here by myself.” I’m not a computer hacker, but I know my way around one. “I may have changed test scores, back in the day.”
His eyes stay closed. “I’m learning more about you every day.” His voice sounds funny and a little dazed.
“You doing okay?” I ask, looking over the tall desk at him.
“Just tired.”
I’m in the system, and find the footage, watching just the beginning then fast forwarding through the twenty minutes of foreplay, and the main event, until now. “From this moment, it’ll start recording again,” I warn.
He doesn’t acknowledge me. I glance over, and his eyes are closed, his body slumping slightly against the wall. Oh, fuck. Our sex wasn’t vanilla, nor am I. It was intense. Is he experiencing a drop?
“Ash? Hey! Stay with me, baby.”
The kitchen is off the reception area. The refrigerator is nicely stocked, and I snatch up a bottle of grape juice and a chocolate bar and jog back out to the reception area.
He hasn’t moved a bit, and still has a smile on his face. Sliding down the wall next to him, I touch his thigh, and his eyes flutter. I open the Hershey Bar, breaking off a couple of blocks. “Ash, baby, can you take a bite of this?”
“Bite? Oh. I’m a little tired. And—” I push the chocolate block into his mouth and he instinctively chews. A couple more pieces, and he’s looking much better. He takes the juice without prodding.
“Did I just go through a drop?” I’d not call us subs or doms, but a drop is exactly what he’s experienced.
“Think so, baby. Let me just hold you for a while, K?”
“Yeah. But that was something.” It was more than physical.We were physical,but more—it was the emotional exchange we shared with one another.
“Have you ever done charcoal renderings before?” He points to the picture of him, in my bed.
“I find I use the technique to build on other projects. I use charcoal to give me a map of my sculptures. It’s not everyone’s method, but I’m not everyone.”
His eyes open a little wider, color returning to his cheeks. “Did you know that Michelangelo had a collection of charcoal paintings?”
His mouth curls into an unconscious grin. He’s back. I can see him, but he can’t see me. I tip his face to mine. “No, I didn’t. I may have skipped a lot of my art history classes. B-O-R-I-N-G. Boring.”
“Somehow, I’m not surprised. However, it was one of my favorite subjects, and with my degree in education, I took several.”
“How is it that I’ve always pegged you as the goody-two-shoes?” I ask.
“And I peg you as the trouble maker,” he quips. “Anyway, the reason I ask, you stuck to your roots. Sure, this picture isn’t as abstract as your other works, but you use the thickness and thinness of lines, different stresses within the drawing. So many times, charcoals can be monotonous, but fuck, this is a talent. Does this mean this may be your collection at your next premiere?”
I’ve not had a showing in over six months. Kate wants to put something on the books for the summertime, but my pieces sell now, without shows, and I hate the pressure.
“I don’t know. I hate premieres. I always get reamed for never showing up. But it’s something I can’t stand—everyone falling over me and my talent. I don’t want to make nice. This is just what I know. I’m happy to make a living from it, but I don’t want peopled treating me different.”
He’s quiet and turns his line of sight from me. “Hey, did I say something to upset you?” He’s quick to discount my question with a shake of his head.
“What is it? Seriously, Ash. Talk to me.” I forcefully shift his head toward mine.
“Is it bad that I want it—the attention?”
My big fucking mouth. “No. You’re a different person than me. I want what you want for yourself, baby. And I’ll be beside you, if it’s what you want.”
I’ll hate every fucking second of it, but then again, it’s what you do when you love someone. I freeze at the thought. I can’t love him. Not yet. It’s too fucking soon. Isn’t it?
"Hey, don't ever compare yourself to me. We have different skill sets. Sure, we're a lot alike, but fuck, even the man I shared a uterus with, as he reminds me often, is as different from me as he can get."
I watch his face intently, and the confident part of Ash is gone. It's replaced by someone scared. It breaks my heart. "Thanks, Noah. I don't know why I get so insecure."
I have a feeling he knows exactly what causes his insecurities, but we've delved so deep in the last hour that I won't push him.
