Exposed
(Skye)
We’d ended up in a room near the charity room he showed me. Our clothes are wherever, scattered between here and there. It’s a cozy room, with a couch and fireplace. I suppose it’s just another room of several in his mansion. It’s difficult to know if it even has a purpose or gets used.
We’re on the couch, my naked body draped across his, his fingers playing with my hair.
It was different this time, when he’d entered me. This time he was gentle and tender. I’m sure I felt the pain he’s been carrying around inside him. Instead of the frantic build of tension, there was a steady welling until my body quivered in his arms.
Having lost his parents so young is terrible, but having to drop out of school and become a parent to his sisters is heartbreaking. It must’ve traumatized him. No matter how much he tried to play it cool, I know it bothered him, I could tell by the tightening in his jaw.
“Do you ever talk to anyone about what happened to your parents?”
“Nope.” He exhales sharply.
“Why not?”
“Why would I?”
“I don’t know.” Because it’s a horrible situation that you shouldn’t have had to bear on your own.
“I talked to you about it.” He did? He showed me the charity, he thinks that’s talking about it?
“I’m glad you showed me your room. It’s really amazing that you help so many kids.”
Lawson shrugs.
“Did anyone help you?”
“Not a fucking soul.”
I press my body against his. As much as I want to know more, to know everything about him, he isn’t very forthcoming with the details. It’s difficult to know how much I can push the subject.
“Well, I think your charity is amazing, truly.”
“I’m glad I have your approval.”
“Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Give me your sarcasm.”
“Come up here and kiss me.”
Lawson drags my body up his chest. I scramble to move and end up straddling him. With his hands knitted through my hair, he pulls my lips to his and kisses me.
“Didn’t we just do this?”
“Doesn’t matter, I could never get enough of your lips.”
I press my forehead against his and smile.
“I never thought I’d hear that from a rich fu…” I stop dead, I didn’t mean to call him that.
“A rich fuck?”
“Fucker, actually.”
“I’m definitely a fucker, especially to you.” I throw my head back and laugh.
“This is true. If only ‘getting fucked by the rich’ meant the way I do.”
“It’s like that, is it? So what do you do to help the less fortunate, besides sit around and bitch with your artist friends?”
I’m not sure how to react, my body is stuck halfway between laughing and being offended.
“It’s hard to change the world when I have no power,” I say, sitting up straight.
Lawson’s hands move to my breasts, and he says, “You have no power, so you hate the people who have power, even when they’re trying to change the world?”
I can’t respond to his comment. Especially because his thumbs are circling my nipples. His eyes bore into them, brightening when my nipples harden. I throw my body back against his.
“Hey, I was enjoying myself.”
“You were distracting me.”
His hand slides up my back and grips my head, pulling it to his lips and kissing me softly.
“From what?”
“Talking.” Our lips are close as I speak.
“What were we talking about?” His lips graze mine.
“You were telling me about your life.”
“What else do you want to know?”
“How the hell you ended up with so much money when you started out the way you did.”
“I busted my ass.”
“Did you have family money?”
“If I had family money, do you think I would’ve dropped out of high school?”
“It’s amazing that someone like you built up all you did.” I want to tell him he’s amazing, but the words didn’t come out that way.
“Thanks for your approval.”
“I was trying to figure out who you were naked, the T-shirt or the suit. I’m leaning toward suit.”
“You’re crazy.”
Lawson’s mouth presses against mine, parting my lips in a kiss. The kiss breaks, leaving our gazes locked. His dark eyes are enticing. I trace my finger along his brow, watching how his iris changes under my touch.
“Can I draw you?”
“What, now?”
“Yeah, now.”
“Above or below the waist?”
I laugh. “Above the neck, perv.”
“I thought you artists like painting nude body parts.”
“Not really. I’ve had my fill of nude models, I prefer faces. But if you want to keep your clothes off while I draw, I’d be totally okay with that.”
“As long as you leave yours off.”
“Deal.”
Invigorated, I spring off his lap and tug his hand to get him to stand.
“I can’t believe I’m letting you do this.”
My face falls. “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”
Lawson smooths my hair. “I want to, I only meant it isn’t something I expected to be doing today.”
My face beams. I’m so excited to draw him. Exploring someone with my pencil reveals them to me.
“Where’re your pencils and paper?”
“In my office.”
Lawson leads me down the hall and into his office. The room is huge, almost as big as his living room, with a massive corner desk and a leather sofa and chairs set. One wall is lined with three massive windows, making the room bright and ideal for my needs.
“Wow, this is impressive,” I say.
“The paper and stuff is here,” he says, opening a drawer.
“Sit there,” I demand, pulling out his desk chair. He sits, and I wheel it across the room to position it where I want the light to be. It falls on his face, illuminating him beautifully, and my breath catches. His face and body seem straight out of a magazine, and I struggle to understand how someone like him is interested in me.
I perch on the edge of his desk, propping my foot on his trash can. Resting the pad of paper on my leg, I begin tracing the shape of his eyes in the center of the page.
As my pencil makes the first marks, I realize I haven’t drawn or painted anything since yesterday afternoon. More than that, I haven’t even thought about it. Which is huge, because I’ve spent every waking hour since I was a teenager obsessing over my current project and dreaming up my next one.
Nothing and no one has ever taken my mind off it before. Weirder still, the realization didn’t make me want to get up and run home to my studio. I’m exactly where I want to be right now.
He’s still while I work, and before long I’m happy with his eyes and move onto his nose. Each stroke allows me to examine him more deeply. His deep eyes, inviting lips and strong jaw. Occasionally, I reach out to touch him, sometimes to get a better sense of him, and sometimes to make sure he’s real.
There’s a certain vulnerability in him, that only rarely peeks out through his outer shell. I know what it is, of course, but I wonder how many others do. The charity is no secret, but I wonder how many people who don’t need the charity even know it exists.
Most of the time, his eyes are sparked with confidence. Even the line of his mouth as he rests is a display of confidence.
As I’m smudging the pencil to create the sheen of his lips, he speaks, breaking the silence for the first time. “How long have you been doing this?”
“Since before I could walk.”
“And you never get bored of it?”
“Never. If anything, the more I do, the more I need to do.”
“So you’re an addict.”
“I hadn’t thought about that before, but maybe. I think it’s more a driving need to create and get all my ideas out there.”
“And to change the world.”
I smile. “That too, if I can get my ideas out, then maybe I can influence someone.”
“What is it you’re creating now that’ll change the world?”
“I’m exposing some rich fucker for what he is.”
Lawson’s eyebrow raises. “What is he?”
I chew my bottom lip a moment before saying, “Someone I really want to kiss.”