Page 23 of One Wild Ride

NINE

Aria

That was some vibrator worthy talk.

After Alex and I left the Mimir building last night, he had his car take me home. I went straight to my room and got out my beloved vibrator. I worked out a few orgasms before I felt like a normal human again and not some repressed teenager.

I wanted to fuck Alex so bad.

It’s becoming frustratingly obvious that Alexander is unlike any guy I had been with. Not that I’ve been with him sexually. He eloquently stated why that won’t happen.

I like cheap and he doesn’t fuck cheap.

Why should I be surprised? I shouldn’t, based on his money, his looks, and his power in the art world. He probably has supermodels with huge tits and long legs begging to come over so he can feed them his cannoli.

What did I have? A flat chest and body so petite that I’m not tall enough to go on some rides at amusement parks. Maybe that’s why I sleep with so many men. I’m compensating for my lack of . . . well, everything.

What made this worse? That I had to see him every day so I could paint his mural. I hope I don’t fuck this up. Literally.

Even now, as I ride the elevator up to his condo, I try my best to push last night out of my head. How he both complimented me and ripped me apart in just a few words.

I kept my head down as the doors opened. I wouldn’t let his amazing art distract me. The door was left open and I did my best to remember where his bedroom was.

I think I made the wrong turn down a hall because I entered a small room with lots of television screens.

“What are you doing in here?” A deep voice came from behind.

I gasped, turning to find Bradley standing in the doorway.

I covered my rapidly beating heart. “You scared me. I seem to be lost. I thought this was Alex’s bedroom.”

“Sure you did.” He stepped back and waved me out.

“What?” I said as I walked past him.

“Alex’s bedroom is at the end of that hallway.” He pointed to the other end of the hall where it turned to the right.

Before I could ask him again what he meant, he stepped into the room I recently left and closed the door.

Asshole.

After making it to the end of the correct hallway I noticed the door to Alex’s bedroom was open so I gave a swift knock on the door and stepped inside. Glancing around, Alex was nowhere to be found but my sketch pad was on the padded leather bench at the end of his bed.

Walking over I picked it up. The page was turned to the sketch I was hoping he would pick. It was a risk since most people want pretty or serene murals. This was the opposite with so much going on. Color, movement, and chaos made it feel as if it was coming to life.

“Good, you’re here.” Alex’s voice created a myriad of sensations colliding at once under my skin.

My head rose as I did my best to temper those thoughts, quash those feelings, and dampen my need.

“Yes. Just as you asked. You did say ten in the morning last night in the car, didn’t you?”

I caught the wobble in my voice and hoped he hadn’t.

He looked amazing today. Better than I fantasized about last night or the night before or every night since I met him. His light blue sweater fit him like it was made for him. Based on his account size, it probably was. And those jeans were tight enough that when he turned to look at the wall where the mural was going, I fist pumped the air.

That man had a great ass. Don’t know why I was so excited about that. It wasn’t like I was going to be able to touch it.

“I see you picked my Art History mural.”

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