Ignited & Unhinged (Billionaire Secret, Book One)(Billionaire Romance, New Adult Romance, College Romance) (12 page)

“Students don’t really attract my attention. I’m not blind to the way a lot of the females look at me, but it doesn’t affect me.” He shrugs like it’s the most insignificant thing in the world.

I blush as I remember all those times I had ogled him in class.

Yeah
, I’m sure I hadn’t been alone in that.

“Then why…?” I begin.

“You?” he finishes. He turns away. His face transforms, accessing some memory.

“You attracted my attention that very first day. There is something about you, you’re…lit. There’s a light, a fire, passion,” he struggled to find the right words.

“You’re different. I couldn’t help but notice you in your red dress and proper pearls.” He traces my collarbone with his fingers.

I feel exposed as he explains his attraction. He remembered what I had worn that first day?

My stomach drops in a way that makes me want him again.

“And then you walked in on me at The Society…” He shakes his head. “The instant I saw you watching me, I felt a pull.”

He looks down at me, his eyes smoldering. “I wanted to be inside of you.”

All the blood rushes down. A shiver runs down my spine, electrifying my skin.

After a few moments of intense staring he breaks away.

“I had plans to go to New York this past Saturday, but when I saw you at the gallery, I couldn’t resist attending that night’s gathering.”

We sit in silence for a minute. Or maybe five.

I’m overwhelmed by his confessions.

He’d gone that night just for me?

“I still don’t know what I think,” I shrug apologetically.

His voice is silky smooth again, like he’s casting some spell, “You needn’t worry about The Society or entanglements as you call them. This is about mutual pleasure and giving in to our most basic senses. Think about it, if you must, or just let yourself go.”

Why is that so hard?

Wait…I went from complete virgin to honorary secret sex society member to hot classroom sex in 2.5 seconds.

I was doing pretty well in the let yourself go department.

So what if I need some time and space to wrap my head around all this mind-blowing pleasure?

So what if my brain needs to catch up with my body?

My life, my rules. This small revelation temporarily frees me.

“I’ll think about it,” I sound in control, rational.

Finally, some mental clarity.

He fixes his eyes on me.

His voice is deep, seductive, “You know you can have us both, if you want.”

Whoa
.

My insides start to vibrate again.

I need to get out of here or I’m going to lose my mental clarity.

Must hold on
.

I stand, make sure my clothes are in place, and grab my bag.

“Uhuh, OK, I’ll think about that.” All semblance of control leaving my voice.

I glimpse his face one last time as I go through the door.

He’s sitting on the floor, completely amused and still…hungry.

The next week and a half pass quickly.

I hadn’t seen Erik since that Monday encounter. The course schedule called for two outside lecturers, and the class after that had fallen on a holiday.

Damon had kept his promise to give me space and had gone radio silent, even refraining from his flirty texts.

I was starting to think that Damon’s silence meant he was no longer interested, and that my attraction for two gorgeous men, and resulting mental confusion, was now irrelevant.

I focused on my classwork and all the other social possibilities that didn’t include a secret sex society.

There were Thai food study breaks, visiting SNL comedians to see, an SE sponsored dinner with a couple of female astronauts, and a whole host of other activities I wasn’t sure existed outside these ivy-covered halls.

I had also gone to a few ballroom dance team practices. They were intense, but the challenge made it all the more appealing.

I had another week to decide whether I wanted to dance competitively with the team, although I was pretty sure I was going to give it a try.

Still, with all the activities and schoolwork and men, our suite made it a point to go out and have fun just for the sake of it.

Tonight was the weekly indie concert at Newt’s, one of the night club staples at The College.

Ana was particularly excited as the featured band for the night was Phantom Universe an LA based indie band she had followed for years.

Newt’s was only three blocks from Winsor Hall. Although it was a tiny venue, it was one of the most respected music clubs in the country.

It shined a light on indie bands, but had also hosted big names like The Stones, and even Dylan and Bowie.

The line for tonight went around the block.

As was starting to become our ritual, we had pre-gamed with margaritas and shots.

We pass the bouncer and file into a smaller foyer before entering the main space.

It’s already crowded. We have to wait for people to move past the bar.

“Ugh, I am SO excited!” Ana jumps up and down a couple of times. “The last time I saw these guys was last summer, they played a club off of Sunset. Man, it’s hard not to miss LA sometimes.”

She closes her eyes and tilts her face upwards. Jas called this her Cali-face.

We imagined she was tilting her face towards the sky to remember the warm California sun or maybe feel that beach breeze.

Even though I was also from California, I didn’t miss Silicon Valley enough to possess such a look.

“How’d you even hear about them?” Kim asks.

She had missed the whole story about her brother’s best friend’s cousin being the band’s first drummer. Ana repeated the complicated connection with enthusiasm.

“He left the band after a couple of years, though. They’ve had the current drummer, Brian, for the last three,” she finishes.

The crowd in front of us clears and we enter the main space.

A sign to our right says the capacity is 700.

The walls are black, the bar and floors worn in. The place is pure, no-frills, real music.

The area around the bar is dark.

We continue moving towards the floor and the stage where the blue and green lights travel with the crowd.

It’s loud, the base makes my heart pump faster.

The opening band had already started their set. They’re covering The Pixies’ “Where is My Mind.”

The slower, pulsating rhythm of the song makes people sway rather than dance.

We find a space near the stage. The song drowns everything else out.

The lights reflect off of us brilliantly. Jas had insisted we all wear sparkly dresses.

I’m in a short sheath dress, black with silver sequins. I look down as the blues and greens reflect off the silver.

Ana is wearing a shiny red dress. Kim a light blue dress with sequins that set off her red hair. And Jas is in an all silver mini, the lights shine the brightest off of her, which seems fitting.

The lights, the music, the sequins, the alcohol—all converge to create another dream-like night.

Ana puts her arms around mine and Jas’ shoulders. She moves us this way and that. We sway dreamily for the remainder of the song.

The lead singer talks into the mic. “And now for some Duran Duran. I hope you guys aren’t too young to remember
Ordinary World
, and if you are, we’re sure you’ll like it anyway.”

He lets his long brown hair fall into his eyes, moving away from the mic as he strikes a chord on his guitar in sync with the drummer.

The song begins.

It’s slow, with some drums and then a simple guitar melody that feels new and familiar at the same time.

A lot of people begin singing with the band from the first lyric. The melancholy rhythms bring me through childhood memories, and somehow propel me into adulthood now.

When the song hits the chorus, practically everyone sings together. Some people lift their cell phones in the air like lighters.

We move, we sing, we feel.

I can’t remember the last time I had heard a live band like this, even these slower tempo songs had a way of getting into your blood.

It’s invigorating. I feel…alive from the inside out.

The song finishes and the same jean and t-shirt clad lead takes the mic as the audience cheers enthusiastically.

“Thank you, thank you. We thought so.” He turns to laugh with the two other guitarists behind him.

And then to the crowd, “But now we’re going to take you back even further. Here’s
There is A Light That Never Goes Out
from The Smiths. Just want to keep your education going.”

He looks at the lead guitarist in black skinny jeans and a black shirt next to him. “We’ve got to supplement what they are learning at this fine, uppity Ivy, don’t we Sam?” His band mate nods.

“Ladies and gents, The Smiths... A one, two, three…”

The beat is faster than the two previous songs. People begin dancing instantly.

The rhythm allows for a more chill-type bopping, not quite mosh pit material, but definitely a fun beat.

The song is infectious. I’d never heard it, but it’s one of those songs you wish you knew the lyrics to because the lyrics embodied something you understood well, or maybe were just starting to understand.

It is instantly nostalgic.

I look around at the faces of my suite, they are beautiful and vibrant.

Kim’s red hair flashes with the lights. Ana’ curls are shaking wildly. Jas has her hands in her hair as she loses herself in the music.

I look beyond them. There is a guy from my English class totally spazzing out to the rhythm. He alternates between flailing his arms overhead and jumping up and down.

It’s funny and kind of awesome, he doesn’t appear to be drunk, just really into the music.

The floor is nearly at capacity. I look around to see if I register any other faces.

There is another person from my English class.
Wow
. I think she is literally wearing a shirt as a dress.

No, no judgment
. Wait…possible judgment as she jumps and flashed everyone around her.

No, no judgment
I force the mantra.

I could have more than flashed someone if they had walked in on me in the stacks…

The song finishes.

“Hope you guys liked that. You’ve got to expand those minds people!” The lead singer brings his fingers to his temples and then makes a motion to signal expansion.

“Look beyond the weekly Top 40. Delve into history, you never know what you might find,” he pleads.

“That’ll do it for us, we are LiveHistory, stay tuned for Phantom Universe! But first a few dance tunes…be warned we didn’t say they would all be club beats.”

What a strange warning.

The speakers in Newt’s come to life.

The opening lyrics of Lady Gaga’s “Bad Romance” fill our ears.

People respond instantly. Including us.

Ana, Kim, Jas, and I close in to create a small circle near the stage.

We sing every word in an exaggerated way while showing off our best dance moves, or at least our best very tipsy dance moves.

We’re mostly jumping up and down.

We stop moving to catch our breath at the bridge…and then throw our heads back and howl with the best of them.

The next song is a dance remix of Imagine Dragons’ “Demons.”

The remix is much faster than the original and gives it a hip hop edge.

I look around. People are dancing in their own awesomely weird ways.

Some are jumping, others grinding, some pull out impressive hip hop moves that I’m trying to wrap my head around.

A couple to my left are really good. The liquid courage has given me the ability to mimic the girl, albeit poorly.

She’s doing things with her torso I can’t begin to understand, but I’m tipsy enough to try.

I’m in the middle of embarrassing myself with the next torso-roll-type move when I feel a pair of male hands on my upper thighs.

Ugh
. Creep.

I grab one hand and twist the man’s wrist as hard as I can.

This ought to send a message.

“Aahhh!”

I turn to find myself face to face with Damon.

He’s shaking his hand out and holding his wrist.

I was going to apologize, but there was something about the look on his face: injured and affronted.

I burst out laughing. Maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s the situation, maybe it’s his promise to stay away from me.

He looks confused by my outburst and then finally cracks a smile.

I look at him once my fit subsides. His lighthearted smile turns dark in an instant. Carnal.

I stop smiling.

He doesn’t say anything, but the look he’s giving me leaves me breathless.

He grabs me possessively around the waist. Our hips connect and then he begins to move.

He circles his hips in time to the hip hop beat, taking me with him.

It isn’t grinding, it’s more…
Dirty Dancing
.

Our connection in that moment is different. The sexual attraction is there, but there is something else that I can’t grasp.

He’s letting me into somewhere I’ve never seen before and at the same time there’s a shield I’d never noticed.

The song continues around us. He’s looking down at me so intently.

I can’t read what is behind those blue eyes.

I hold his gaze, I meet his rhythm.

A piano breaks through the “Demons” remix. The change in tempo is severe.

It is a slow song. Around us, there are a few groans. The trance we had created fractures.

We watch as most of the dancers leave the floor.

He releases me awkwardly.

Neither of us knows what to do. I glance at the few remaining couples embracing for a slow dance.

This is what the LiveHistory singer had meant. I steal a glance at Damon.

He’s biting his lip. Unsure.

It’s a new look for him.

A slow dance is romantic, intimate. I’m not sure I want to go there and he looks…odd.

I make to walk off the floor and join my friends who had cleared out half way through “Demons.”

He catches my arm and pulls me back. Wrapping both arms around my waist, he brings me into him.

There is nothing to do but wrap my arms around his shoulders.

We sway.

It’s like a sustained hug to music. All the hard lines of his body seem to soften to accommodate me.

The lyrics of the song are intense, romantic, and a little sad. Rihanna’s “Stay.”

Something drops in my stomach.

It isn’t that sexual arousal I had come to know in Damon’s presence.

It’s like the first day of school or getting on a plane by yourself.

With one hand he gently moves my head into the crook of his shoulder. A second later I feel his head leaning into mine.

The lyrics continue, they are confusing. The song echoes my thoughts.

We aren’t moving very much at all, but suddenly I’m dizzy. This is starting to feel too much like the end of a
Twilight
movie.

I need to keep my head on.
Say something Elle
.

“Didn’t you promise to stay away from me?”

Damn
that definitely sounded like the end of a Twilight film.

“I tried. You were dancing…I just wanted to be near you,” he sounds so earnest, heartfelt even.

“Have you been drinking?” I tease to lighten the mood.

“A bit, but it doesn’t make it any less true,” he answers, still serious.

“Did you figure out what you needed to figure out?” he asks, hopeful.

I
had
thought about it, obviously.

But I wasn’t sure he still wanted to be figured in to the equation.

All I know is that I hadn’t liked not hearing from him.

There was no Earth-shattering epiphany. There was only my attraction for two men, my inexperience in such things, and the truth I held onto most of all: I wanted to let go, but I refused to fall.

There was only one logical conclusion.

The song finishes and I break our embrace.

“I need some air,” I say.

“Sure, let’s go up to the roof.” He takes my hand and leads me off the floor, down a narrow hall I hadn’t noticed and up a flight of stairs.

We are on the balcony. Another hidden hallway and two flights of stairs later we emerge onto the roof.

The cool air caresses my face.

I take a deep breath.

The rooftop provides an excellent view of the campus. The Gothic arches of Litz tower are perfectly lit on one side, the House of Hurte similarly lit on the other.

The Stacks are across the street.

Above us a few stars can be seen through the moving orange clouds that reflect the city lights and pollution.

We are alone.

I walk to one of the walled edges and look down at the streets below. He joins me.

I’m nervous to say what I have to say.

It’s funny how honest conversations are still difficult with someone who has seen you naked.

I wonder if people really ever saw each other naked, truly as they are.

“I’m sensing your anxiety,” he sounds equally nervous, which was new.

Where do I begin?

With West, obviously.

Just say it
!

“You know when you first took me to The Society and you said that you thought I responded to seeing West with that blonde?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I
did
respond and he responded to my watching him,” I say delicately.

“Of course he did, voyeurism is one of the sexual predilections that bring members of The Society together in the first place.”

One of them? I put that question in the vault for later.

My voice is low, “He said that the second he saw me watching him, he wanted to be inside of me.”

I can’t look at him.

“Said? He told you this? When?” There is a hint of alarm in his voice.

Uh-oh, we had both made a point of not being exclusive, why did he sound like that?

I should just say it all, quickly and let the chips fall where they may.

“Well he first approached me at the art gallery the same day as the last Society meeting. We talked about the nudes and Degas and…pleasure.”

I breathe in and try to see Damon from the corner of my eye.

He’s waiting. Tension is radiating off of him.

I say the next part in a rush, to get it out, “Then when you left me blindfolded in the foyer, someone I assumed was you, led me into the closet under the staircase. I made out with that someone and then realized he felt different. The light came on, the blindfold off and it was West.”

I don’t think he needs to know that I continued the make out session even after I knew it wasn’t him.

A fraction of the anxiety I had been feeling dissipates. And then I remember that there’s more.

I clasp my hands together nervously, “Then the following Monday after class we sort of made out again, only we also used…hands and that’s when he told me about wanting me. He said that The Society is all about pleasure and that I shouldn’t worry about being attracted to you both. I told him that it was still something I would have to wrap my brain around.”

There.

It all spilled out.

I stare faithfully at my hands.

He’s still waiting on me. “And did you? Wrap your head around it?”

“Well, if we both don’t want to be exclusive and everything you’ve exposed me to at The Society is about pleasure, then we should all theoretically be OK with my seeking pleasure with both of you…
right
?” I look up at him, finally.

He’s searching my face again.

His eyes draw together, his jaw is still full of tension, “So you weren’t about to tell me that you can’t wrap your head around The Society and being with me this way?”

I shake my head slowly.

So is he OK with it all?

Does he agree with my conclusion?

Does
he
want out?

Not that there was anything to get
out
of…

His face doesn’t change, his voice is soft, surprised, “You still want to see me, even with everything I’ve shown you?”

I nod.

“So you aren’t scared?” He runs his fingers through his hair. “You keep running out…I thought I pushed you too far, too quickly. So this was about West?”

His jaw relaxes a degree.

“Yes, the first time I ran out really was about a collision of worlds. The second time, I couldn’t digest what had happened in the closet with West because I was there with you. I just needed to get some perspective on the situation. I wasn’t scared,” I assure him.

Without warning he leans down and kisses me.
Hard
.

I break away.

“Wait, so you’re OK with it all? You’re saying I should go and fuck him?” My voice rises at the end.

Did I want him to be OK with it?

Yes, yes I did because anything else would be too much like an exclusive relationship…and then would come love.

And I refuse to fall.

“I’m saying,” he picks me up so I am straddling him, “that you should fuck me. Right. Now.”

He carries me a few feet to a small alcove next to the door where he sets me down on a ledge a couple of feet from the top of the wall.

We are at eye level.

He takes my face in his hands.

The city lights behind me reflect off of his silver-blue eyes.

“Do you know how beautiful you are?” He leans down to kiss me softly.

It is in such contrast to his previous kiss that it gives me butterflies.

Am I nervous because we are on a rooftop, semi-exposed?

Or because his tender side makes me feel exposed?

“I couldn’t stop thinking about your lips.” He moves his thumb across my lower lip and pulls it down. He kisses me again.

His voice is low, strangled, “I was about to break my promise to stay away. In fact, I was about to leave this place to go find
you when I spotted you across the floor. Always dancing. Always tempting me with that body.”

He moves his hands from my face to the outside of my thighs. Slowly he pushes up my dress.

His words, his slow movements—I already feel naked.

His hands linger on my legs, stroking me.

He leans in and kisses my cheek, then just beneath my ear and finally my neck.

Each kiss is agonizingly soft and restrained. He’s teasing me.

I try to take control by taking his head in my hands and bringing him back to my lips.

I kiss him with urgency. Moving my hands to his defined chest, over the fabric of his t-shirt and down to the button of his jeans.

He captures my hands and sets them down on the stone ledge.

“What do you want Giselle?” he whispers against my lips.

I think for a moment about the words that would be most effective.

I hold his gaze and let my need for him show in my eyes.

“Your cock.”

It works. He crushes his lips to mine and pushes me against the wall.

“Lean back,” he says lifting me slightly so he can remove my panties.

He’s moving slowly again. He unzips his jeans, but doesn’t let them fall.

I stroke him, willing him to move faster. He moves my hands away and places his hands beneath my ass, lifting me to him. “And before you ask, I haven’t…with anyone.”

I know what he means.

With no further preamble he positioned himself at my entrance and slams into me.

“Aaahhh!” The surprise of it makes me scream.

He moves with a controlled rhythm.

I am so beyond aroused, but I’m not as primed as I had been before.

There is more friction.

“Release the tension you’re holding. Melt into me Giselle,” he commands.

I relax my lower body and let him move me. My hips circle into him. My head falls back.

His voice is strangled, “That’s it, let go.”

Just then the door to the roof opens.

Still connected, we stop moving.

I can hear my heartbeat pounding in my ears, the blood rise to my face.

We aren’t alone.