Exposed to You (Overexposed)

by Andra Lake

  Dallon exhaled through his teeth. “Asshole.”

  I smiled. “He was. I’m glad I’m not with him anymore. He was still texting me up until I got my new phone.”

  “Do you miss him?”

  It was asked softly with a touch of fear behind it. I looked at Dallon and found his face impassive, but his eyes were wary. This was the first time I’d seen Dallon look afraid, and it was because he was afraid of losing me.

  “I want the honest answer,” he pressed.

  I closed my eyes briefly before responding. “Michael was… charming. Everyone that met him liked him. It was hard not to have fun around him, and he made me feel like I was the most important person in his life. So I guess I miss that.” Before Dallon could react, I added, “But it was all fake. After I walked in on him, he insisted I meet him for coffee and wanted to stay together. When I said no, he got angry and admitted that he had been cheating for months. I guess you just never really know people.”

  At this Dallon stood and ran a hand through his hair. “I would never cheat on you.”

  My eyes widened. I didn’t know how to respond to that. I watched, silent, as he paced the bathroom, his hands balled into fists. He stopped abruptly and stared at me hard.

  “I would never lead you on like that or treat you like you were just for sex.”

  Like Sam, Dallon had a knack for hitting the nail on the head. I wrapped my arms around myself as memories of the last time Michael and I had slept together rushed forth. It had only been a few hours before I found him with another woman. I’d returned to his place to grab my sweater.

  “If anything, I worry that I’m not good enough in bed,” I said quietly.

  Dallon stopped pacing. He looked horrified at first and then his slow, sexy grin appeared. “Oh Miss Clair, I can assure you that you are not bad in bed.”

  I grinned stupidly and for once didn’t look away.

  Dallon pulled his shirt over his head and dropped it to the floor. Keeping his eyes on mine, he unbuckled his belt and stepped out of his jeans. Apparently he’d gone commando after the gym.

  I slid forward in the tub as he climbed in behind me, and soon I felt him pressing against my back.

  “Your body reacts to mine, and mine reacts to yours,” he whispered in my ear. He reached for my hand and placed it on him. “Feel what you do to me.”

  I leaned back against his chest, tilted my head up to meet his waiting lips.

  ***

  Dallon dried himself off before helping me out of the bath, toweling me down with a grin on his face. He helped me back into my robe and wrapped his arms around me from behind, looking over my shoulder at our reflections in the mirror.

  “We look good together,” he said, smiling a slow, sexy smile.

  I bit my lip shyly. “There’s quite a height difference.”

  He laughed and stood to his full height, creating an even larger gap.

  “My dad is six feet but my mom’s side is all short,” I said by way of explanation.

  “I love your height.”

  I didn’t have to ask why; I’d pieced that much together for myself.

  Dallon put his hands on my hips and spun me around to face him, gave me a tap on the nose. “I see your mind worrying, and I’m telling you to stop. Live in the here and now.”

  I sighed and leaned into his chest, rubbing my cheek softly against the hair there. “It’s not just that; I have to research the company for the interview.”

  “You can do that after dinner while I catch up on work.”

  He plucked his toothbrush out of its stand and began brushing his teeth. I watched as he opened a cupboard under the sink and pulled out a brand new toothbrush, ripped it out of its packaging and handed it to me. It was bright pink.

  We stood together, brushing our teeth and smiling at each other in the mirror, both of us obviously enjoying the domestic act.

  “Thank you for taking the day off to spend with me.”

  In response, he gave me a playful swat on the butt before turning and walking into his room. I swayed awkwardly on the spot before following him. There, I sprawled on the leather lounger and watched as he pulled on a T-shirt and his pajama bottoms, no socks. Dallon loved going without socks, something I couldn’t imagine. My feet got cold just looking at his.

  After pulling on his shirt, he turned to face me, looking unfairly hot, hair disheveled and wet and begging to be touched. “Are you going to move in here with me?”

  I glanced down at my bare legs.

  Dallon chuckled. “Okay, you can keep your own room. Whatever will make you feel safe.”

  “I just like having my own space,” I shrugged.

  “I get it.” He cupped my face with two hands and pressed a kiss to my forehead. “Move in with me when you’re ready.”

  I returned to my room to change into my own pajama bottoms and a T-shirt, and when I returned to the living room, Dallon was on the couch, a bowl of popcorn on the table in front of him. When he saw me, he raised an arm in an invitation to cuddle. I instantly accepted, snuggling up and letting him cover us in a blanket.

  “If you promise to relax and not worry for a while, I’ll let you choose the movie.”

  “How generous of you,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “I’ve never lived with anyone before. I thought it was rather big of me.”

  He pushed a button on the remote and the Netflix screen appeared. “A nice afternoon as a couple,” he winked.

  I smiled and closed my eyes briefly, inhaling the scent that was Dallon: laundry, aftershave, a touch of mint and something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Maybe it was just him.

  “Let me guess, a romantic comedy,” he said drily.

  I snatched the remote from him. “Everyone likes romantic comedies.”

  I began scrolling through the movies and frowned. Damn, I really did want to watch a rom com. No Strings Attached. I paused at it and when I glanced at Dallon, he was trying not to laugh, the corner of his lips twitching.

  I hit the green button on the remote.

  “Shut up, Mr. King.”

  I felt his chest shaking beneath me as he chuckled silently.

  Chapter Nineteen

  The next day, I slept in after a night of fondue and wine with Dallon, followed by the most wonderful vanilla sex I’d ever had. We’d made love in his bed on the softest sheets—they must have been 1,000,000 thread count—and then I’d fallen asleep in his arms like a normal couple. I’d awoken to find a note on his pillow wishing me good luck at the interview and a wad of cash. “For cab fare,” the note read.

  I smiled and hugged myself a little as I made my way into his bathroom to shower. Knowing he wasn’t home, I plugged my iPhone into the dock and belted out the lyrics to my favorite Indie songs as I showered. Singing had always been something that relaxed me, along with my art. I was excited for my interview but also filled with jittery nerves; this was my chance.

  I arrived at the office before 2 p.m., noting with private amusement how different it felt than Dallon’s office. The furnishings were older, more casual. Pictures of oil rigs and other machines I didn’t recognize covered the walls along with framed magazine articles.

  I pressed the bell at reception and a man poked his head out of a nearby office and said, “I’ll call Becky.”

  Apparently they needed an Administrative Assistant sooner than later.

  Becky Platt retrieved me from the waiting area with a large smile. She was beautiful with hints of a Latin descent, her sleek hair falling halfway down her back.

  “This isn’t a very large office,” she told me as she led me to the boardroom, “so the candidate will report to me. Ren Helding will be joining us to speed up the process. Usually we would bring candidates back for a second interview with him, but we’re hoping to have someone in by next week. As you can see, we’re in desperate need.”

  I laughed and she smiled warmly, gestured me to sit down at the long table.

  “Beca
use we’re a small company, there’s a lot of room for growth in this position. Why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself.”

  Ren Helding entered then, a man in his late thirties or early forties with a friendly smile, and blue eyes that crinkled in the corners. As I spoke, he nodded and smiled, and I soon felt at ease.

  I told them about my degree and past work experience, which unfortunately didn’t include office experience. Still, they seemed interested in my position at Cat and Fiddle Café and Ren made a comment that he admired anyone willing to try new things and work hard. After a series of grueling behavioral questions, Becky excused herself, leaving Ren and I alone to get to know each other.

  “So you’re an artist?” Ren asked.

  I smiled, aware of the flush spreading on my cheeks. I did consider myself an artist, but being an artist was something hard to prove, and years of logical discussions with my parents had made me unsure.

  “I like to sketch and paint,” I said carefully.

  Ren smiled and sat back in his chair. “I’d like to see some of your work.”

  I hesitated for a moment, and then decided to go for it. “I have some pictures on my phone if you’re interested.”

  “By all means.” He sat at attention again, pulling a pair of glasses out of a case.

  I nervously pulled out my phone and scrolled through my pictures to the abstract painting Dallon had said he liked best.

  Ren took the phone from me and I watched as he studied it for a moment, using two fingers to zoom in on the picture. After a moment, he looked at me over his glasses, nodded appreciatively.

  “You’re a talented artist. Very creative.” He moved to scroll through the rest, his finger pausing. “Do you mind?”

  “Sure, go ahead. The next three are sketches and a collage.”

  “You have a good eye for design.” He said, returning my phone. “Have you ever considered Graphic Design?”

  I smiled politely. “I’ve never considered it, no. I’m not really good with computers.”

  Ren smiled and his eyes crinkled in the corners. “The programs aren’t too difficult to learn, and once you do, you can be quite creative and make a living doing so. We’ve actually been looking for someone with talent.”

  Damn, I thought. Again my non-practical degree was biting me in the ass.

  He sat back and crossed a leg over his knee. “One option would be for us to start you off in reception while you take some classes, see how it goes. Perhaps we can groom you to be our Graphic Designer.”

  I had to consciously hold my mouth shut. “Really? That would be great.”

  He smiled and put his hands up. “No pressure on the Graphic Design thing, I just thought it might be an option for you. We would of course cover your Adobe classes if you decide to go that route.”

  “I would definitely be interested,” I said, completely off guard that I might actually have gotten a job after my first interview, and not only that, the company might actually pay for me to advance my career.

  Ren stood and gave me his hand. “I’ll talk to Becky about an offer. You should hear from us by the end of the week. It was a pleasure to meet you, Miss Clair.”

  I smiled, my cheeks heating slightly from the use of my formal name. Even that invoked memories of Dallon King.

  I left the interview beyond excited. Graphic Design? How had I never considered it before? I hailed a cab, paid with the money Dallon had given me when I arrived, and rushed through the penthouse and into the study, where I found Dallon silhouetted against the window, his hands deep in his suit pockets.

  When he heard me enter the room, he turned slowly to face me.

  “I got the job!” I said excitedly, rushing into the room and sitting on his desk. I noticed his eyebrow rise as I did so, but I ignored him. “HR is going to send me an offer by the end of this week.”

  “Congratulations. We should open a bottle of wine.”

  Dallon put his hand out and I shook it, somewhat confused by the formal gesture.

  He walked past a bar covered in crystal decanters and glasses, much like his office, and I noticed that a half emptied glass of scotch sat on its surface. I followed him through the living room and into the dining room, where he pulled a bottle of red out of the wine rack.

  “Look at the date,” he said earnestly.

  I took the bottle from him and glanced up quickly. “The year I was born.”

  He smiled. “I’ve been saving it for a special occasion. I think this one is worthy.”

  I grinned as he took the bottle back from me, his eyes on mine. He looked delicious in his dark grey suit, crisp shirt and tie. He deftly filled two glasses, took a taster sip before handing me mine.

  “To your new future,” he said, holding his glass up in a toast.

  “To my future,” I agreed.

  “Tell me about the interview,” he said, putting an arm around my waist and leading me into the living room, where he gestured for me to sit on the couch before turning on the fire. The flames leapt and I sighed contentedly. Dallon unfolded the blanket on the ottoman and put it over us as he sat down.

  “The interview started with Beck from HR—I can’t remember her last name—and Ren Helding. Then it was just Ren and me. I showed him the pictures I took of my artwork, and he was really impressed.”

  “Of course he was.”

  I exhaled happily. “I think he thought I have talent. He asked if I’d ever considered Graphic Design and said I could start in reception and they’d pay for me to take some courses.”

  “Courses?”

  “Adobe courses. You know, like Photoshop. I think Graphic Designers use another one… Illustrator.”

  “I see.” Dallon took a thoughtful sip of his wine, looking at the fire. “Is that something you’d be interested in?”

  “I think so. I mean, it’s a way to make a living.” I thought for a moment. “I might be good at it.”

  “I don’t doubt that, Miss Clair.”

  I frowned. “Why all the formality?”

  Dallon arched an eyebrow questioningly.

  “You’re all ‘Miss Clair’ and shaking my hand.”

  “I want you to know I’m taking you seriously.”

  “Oh.” I felt momentarily annoyed, as if he was somehow being condescending. Don’t be like that, I told myself; he’s trying.

  “I’ve never been great at computers,” I confessed. “I took a mandatory computers class for my degree and we used Photoshop a little bit, but I forget it all. I don’t remember it being intuitive though. We’ll see how it goes.”

  “Graphic Design isn’t about knowing how to use the programs, it’s about having a vision and then using the tools to make your vision a reality. You’ve taken courses in design so you have more of an advantage than you think.”

  I smiled and put my wine down on the coffee table, snuggling into him. Dallon always seemed to know the perfect thing to say. “Thanks. I just can’t believe my luck; first interview and I got a job!”

  As if on cue, my phone started to ring. I rushed into the study where I’d left my purse on Dallon’s desk. It was Sam.

  “Sam! I got the job!”

  Sam squealed. “Hold on a sec, I’m stepping out into the hallway.”

  I smiled, imagining Sam squealing in front of her coworkers. Soon she was back, talking rapidly and asking me to give her the details. When I told her about the Graphic Design possibility, she got even more excited.

  “Are you free tomorrow night? I want to hear more about it, but I have to get back to work. Bring Dallon.”

  “Sure, I’m free. And I’ll ask him.” I looked through the door at Dallon sipping his wine on the couch, still watching the fire.

  “Good, because I also want to see your new place.”

  “What? Here?”

  Dallon glanced over from the couch, frowning questioningly. I turned my back on him and lowered my voice. “You want to come here?”

  Sam laughed. “What, you don’t want me t
o meet Dallon King?” She said his name in such a breathless, dramatic manner that I couldn’t help but smile, even if I was panicking.

  “You can meet him.” I hesitated. “Maybe at the bar?”

  I could hear Sam’s answering frown. “What, does he not let you have visitors?”

  Sam had always been good at getting what she wanted. She knew how to push people’s buttons. I knew I was stuck; if I didn’t have them over, she would think it was his home and I didn’t have a say, but if I did, he could possibly confirm her suspicions by being his normal, controlling self. I had to think quickly.

  “No, I just don’t know how late he works, but maybe you can come for drinks after dinner?”

  “Sounds good.”

  “I’ll text you the address.”

  I hit end, turned to see Dallon standing in the doorjamb and jumped. I hadn’t heard him approach and wondered how much he’d heard.

  “That was Sam. She and Luke are coming for drinks on Friday night.”

  “I heard. Sounded like you couldn’t get out of it.”

  I sighed. “If you think I’m tenacious, wait until you meet Sam. She’s determined to meet you.” And discover what you’re really about, I thought.

  “I’m excited to meet one of your friends.”

  “My best friend,” I said in warning.

  A slow grin spread across his features. “You’re protective of her, aren’t you?”

  I shrugged. “We’re protective of each other.”

  His grin only widened. “Now I’m intrigued.”

  “I haven’t told her anything. What am I supposed to say, that my boyfriend is a control freak that likes to tie me up and spank me?”

  His brows shot up. “Is that how you see me?”

  “Pretty much.”

  “I haven’t even tied you up.”

  “Yet.” The moment I said it, I flushed bright red.

  “Hmm.” He crossed his arms and approached me, looking at the ground as if in thought. “And here I thought you saw me as your wealthy, good looking boyfriend that likes to take you for expensive dinners and buy you nice gifts.”

  Lowering my gaze, I smiled as he put his hands on my hips, splayed his fingers against the naked flesh under my shirt. “That’s the part I told her about.”