From the Inside Out: The Compilation (Scorned, Jealousy, Dylan, Austin) (11 page)

“Unf?”
he repeats.

I lick my spoon clean and see him smile at me. “Yes, unf! It’s orgasmic.”

He laughs and I blush, but I love saying what I want around him. He takes everything in stride and has a great sense of humor.

“Speaking of,” I start to say, but rise up on my toes and kiss him instead of finishing with words.

His lips are cold from the frozen yogurt and he tastes of berries. His free hand finds the back of my head, holding me to him, both of us wanting more. Our chilled tongues heat quickly once they touch, mingle, and slide. A moan escapes as I forget about my dessert and savor him instead.

Although I don’t, he must have remembered where we are because he stops with a gentle smile on his face and whispers. “You make me want to do things to you, Ms. Weston, but not on a New York street.”

I toss the rest of my frozen treat into the garbage and take his hand. “Yeah, I think we’re done here. Let’s go back.”

He tosses his own container and we start walking. We don’t talk on the way back, anticipation building with our pace. As soon as I lock the deadbolt, he’s on me, pinning me against the door with his body, his mouth on my neck, hands in my hair. My right leg lifts seemingly of its own accord balancing against his hip. His hand grips my thigh, holding it up while sliding down.

Breathless and with his eyes closed, he leans his forehead against mine. “You are driving me crazy, Jules. I feel out of control around you.” He takes a deep breath. “I’m not used to that.”

“You do the same to me,” I say with a breathy pant. “I haven’t felt like this in a long time.”

“And I thought I was special,” he teases.

Leaning my head back against the door with a thud, I laugh. “You know what I mean.”

“I know exactly what you mean.” Looking me in the eyes, a more serious tone takes over. “You all right with this?”

“I am. Look, I find you attractive,
extremely
attractive and, well…” My body heats against his, wanting him. “You turn me on probably more than I should admit to. You have beautiful eyes,” I say because they are and the way they look at me makes me weak in the knees.

He bites down on his bottom lip, gazing down at me, then says, “You have beautiful everything, Jules.” He kisses me.

This is the moment. The moment I need to decide if I’m going to take this further. He’s made his feelings clear, but am I ready for more…

Further
.

Further emotionally.

Further physically.

Further into a relationship with this man who seems to be perfect—
a perfect man who is interested in me for some reason despite being broken.
Does he not see that? Is it not as obvious on the outside? Have I become that good of an actress?

He’ll find out and when he does I’ll lose him. But maybe…

Maybe he can heal me.

Maybe that’s why we seem to work right now.

Maybe he needs me just as much.

Maybe he’s broken on the inside too.

He sighs, touching my cheek. “Hey there, where’d you disappear to?”

I look down, ashamed that I got lost in the muss of thoughts clouding my brain instead of appreciating what’s right here, what’s tangible and real, loving and giving. I slide my hand up his neck to his cheek and look at him. His small smile shows his concern, despite trying to mask it. “I’m sorry,” I reply.

“Jules, we can slow down if that’s what worries you.”

I like the way his hands feel on me, gentle, patient, but firm. Strong. I lean forward tucking myself against him, resting my cheek on his chest and close my eyes.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Inhale.

Exhale.

“I like you, Austin. Definitely more than I should—”

“Why shouldn’t you? Tell me. Are we moving too fast?”

“We messed around on our first date, but it took us three years to have a drink. So it’s fast in some ways and not in others, but I like it. You make me feel and I haven’t felt anything in a long time. It’s nice.”

“You haven’t had feelings for anyone in a long time?”

“Yes… and no. I’ve not felt anything at all for years. I’ve been numb.”

“You were hurt.” He guesses right.

I drop back against the door, not ready to face him, staring at the space that has developed between us when all I want is his warmth again, his hands all over me. Instead, he tucks them into his pockets, the exact opposite of what I want. “I was, but I’ve been hurting myself ever since.” I take him by the arm and walk to the couch.

I deserve to be happy, I repeat, hoping one day I truly believe it. But for now, I convince myself that I’m good enough for this great guy. I swallow hard, then say, “It may sound strange, but I want this, you, what’s happening between us. I like it and I don’t want it to stop. I don’t want to do this slow and careful. I just want to continue enjoying this.”

He laughs, the weight of the conversation lifting. “I do too. I like what we’re sharing. I’ve not been in a real relationship in a few years, not one that was good and honest. I think we may be good for each other because this, this is as honest as it gets. Our cards are down—”

“Our walls are down.”

A soft smile covers his face. “Let’s just enjoy
this
.”

“Just have fun?”

“Just have fun discovering what
this
is.”

“I want that,” I say, hope seeping in.

He kisses me. Hard. Topples me over and I want it, this, him. A kiss is not enough. I need more. I want more. I want all of him.

Will he?

Should we?

I block those questions out of my mind, living in the here, the now, with him, with perfection and green eyes and dark hair with soft waves, strong arms, hard abs, hard… other parts—hard
and
large other parts.

I grind up. He grinds down. He moans, and like a drug fix, it sends me straight to my happy, freeing place. My skirt is pushed up to my hips as he slides between my legs. Light wool pants and a pair of boxers can’t hide his arousal.

I moan because I’m so fucking hot for him right now, especially when his hand touches me… Right. There. I practically rip the fabric belt of my dress open, my body exposed in the quick movement.

AFTER CATCHING OUR
breath, he says, “I’m sorry. I hope I wasn’t too rough.”

“You weren’t.” I reach up, soothing, comforting him. “Did it feel good?”

“Too good, but I didn’t mean to… you know, I didn’t want it to happen like that on a couch. I got carried away. I don’t sleep around as much as the gossip columns say.” He sits back on his knees. “I would have preferred to romance you.”

I cut off his need to apologize, “Austin, it was fun and it felt good. You felt good.”

He lies down, squashing me, but I love it. A calm washes over us and we exhale, sinking further into the cushions of the couch. “I like this. What we have going here,” he says earnestly.

Snuggling closer, I hope he feels the same satisfaction that I do. I whisper just in case he doesn’t, “I do too.”

“I’m going to Europe for two weeks on Thursday.”

With my eyes closed, I say, “I have a show that will keep me busy.”

He kisses my temple. “Don’t miss me too much.”

With a gentle laugh, I roll onto my side and wrap my right arm over his stomach. After placing a soft kiss on his chest, I reassure, “I’ll miss you. More than you know. You‘re already starting to feel like a habit I can’t break after just two dates.”

“You’re just in it for the fantastic orgasms I give you.”

“Might be,” I joke back.

This is nice.

This is easy.

Easy is good.

… And then I think of Dylan.

MY PHONE FLASHES
with a missed call as soon as I turn it back on. I had turned it off while visiting with Jean-Luc, wanting to check on his progress for his upcoming show in two months.

“You look different, beautiful Jules.” Jean-Luc is very intuitive. I’ve always liked that about him. He noticed the change in me as soon as I walked into his loft.

“How so?” I ask whimsically, a small smile forming on my lips as I walk around the large space.

“Your aura has shifted. You seem happy.”

I laugh, then scoff at the notion. “These windows need to be cleaned. You need to let some sunshine in.”

His body warms my backside, his chest to my back. The smell of oil-based paint mixed with a hint of cleaner and his sweat, fills the air around us, stronger than my perfume. The rough skin of his hand runs down my arm. His lips are at my ear as he presses his bare chest against my shoulders, only a tiny dress strap between us. “I like you better sullen and hard to get. Aloof is sexy when you do it.”

“I never purposely act aloof. Sullen maybe, mainly miserable. That’s what I was going for. I guess I failed. I’m reevaluating my whole emo image as we speak,” I deadpan. It’s easier to play along with his dramatics. He’s an amazing painter when he’s riled up.

“Emo,” he repeats, chuckling, his breath hitting my neck. “Yes, emo and sunshine don’t go well together.”

“Changing.”

“Don’t,” he whispers. “Don’t let someone change you, who you are. You’re perfect, always, delicate and perfect to me.”

I turn slowly around, our chests now touching, no professional space remaining between us. I lean forward toward his ear, cheek to cheek, and whisper, “We’re perfect as we are. Let’s not change this, the distance we keep works better than the reality ever could.” I kiss him lightly on the cheek, then take a step back. “Thank you for accepting me how I am.”

Backing away from me with a smirk on his face and a paintbrush in hand, he points it accusingly in my direction. “You’ve met someone. Tell me, Jules, does he let you have your quiet moments? Does he let you thrive in your sadness and love you regardless?”

I roll my eyes. “You’re such an artist. Not everything has to be so extreme. Sometimes things happen that mess with the flow and then you come to realize that everything flows better than it did before the change.”

“So I’m right. Just tell me he’s opposite of me. Lie to me if you have to. You’re good at lying. Convince me that my hope being dashed is purely because he offered you something I couldn’t.”