Ignited & Unhinged (Billionaire Secret, Book One)(Billionaire Romance, New Adult Romance, College Romance) (2 page)

My breath catches.

And through no conscious thought of my own, I find myself walking towards him.

I close the distance in just a few seconds.

Man, the powers of vodka!

I had been letting my mind drift towards this gorgeous man for months.

Thinking up scenarios about how I might
find
myself in his path, might
accidentally
bump into him.

And here we are, face to face.

“Hi, I’m Giselle—I mean Elle,” I stammer ungracefully and hold out my hand.

He smirks. Like he knows something I don’t.

“Damon,” he answers simply without shaking my hand.

He’s tall, 6’0 maybe, dark hair, with those silver-blue eyes that had pierced my memories.

He shifts his lean, athletic body off the wall so he is partially in the light.

He looks divine in his black slacks, tight black v-neck shirt, and sleek blazer. I can see the definition in his arms and chest—athletic, but not bulky.

“Giselle, like the ballet?” He brings me back down to Earth.

Had I been ogling him?

Geez, I’m not sure what my face had been doing.

“Yeah, my mother loves dance, so…Giselle,” I shrug.

My voice and mind drift off. “Although, I stopped meeting that archetype when I didn’t get taller and I got a few…womanly curves.”

Oh. My. God.

What was wrong with me?

Womanly curves
?

And in grandma-speak?!

Why did I just vomit too much information at him? I shut my mouth abruptly.

He pulls his eyebrows together like he is considering something and then lets out a soft chuckle.

The music changes to a more provocative, pounding dance rhythm and I turn to look at the crowd.

“Care to dance?” he asks.

I turn back to him. He moved closer when I wasn’t looking.

He is now just a few inches from my face. I stop breathing.

“Sure,” I answer, clearly flustered.

We pass the bar on our way to the floor and I steal a shot that the bartender has just set in front of another girl, before she can turn around and see it.

I down it and smack the glass down on the bar without missing a beat.

The alcohol is making my cells sing.

The warmth, the slightly dreamlike, moving glow of the scene around me makes me feel like a new person.

A bolder Elle.

Someone brave enough to jump off of a cliff just to feel the wind in her hair.

Someone wild enough to sing in front of a group of people.

Someone strong enough to embrace her body. Her desires.

I like her.

He swings his arm behind him to take my hand.

The skin to skin contact makes something drop in my stomach.

He leads us to the center of the crowd where there are couples gyrating to the relentless beat.

He turns to face me and abruptly puts his hand at the small of my back. In one movement, he crushes me to him.

My arms curl around his neck.

His hips find a circular rhythm.

He brings his forehead to rest against mine. I can feel his cool breath on my face.

I can feel…
all
of him.

So this is grinding?

I like it.

A lot.

The music picks up speed and so do we.

I let my head fall back and watch the café lights mix with the stars above.

There is only the beat and our bodies.

I am on another plane. Existing for every second.
Letting go
.

My lips twitch up in a smile as I feel him growing bigger by the second.
I was doing that to him
.

I try not to think about how inexperienced I am. Try to let myself fall into the new sensations.

A noise escapes my lips. A moan?

I wrap my arms more tightly around his neck as my body starts to take over.

The song morphs into a new dance beat.

I can hear his labored breathing getting more urgent.

And I’m beginning to lose all reason. My hips buckle slightly as I feel myself moving towards something.

“Wow,” I say under my breath. I’ve never been turned on like this before.

The stimulation is overwhelming.

He stops moving and stares deeply into my eyes. His eyes search me. Looking for the answer to a question he hasn’t asked.

My heartbeat grows louder in my ears. It overtakes the song.

Damon brings a hand to my cheek. His fingers lightly caress my cheekbone, down to my mouth.

His thumb traces my lower lip.

I’m so intoxicated by his intense gaze, the pounding beat, my throbbing body, the bewitching scene that if he were to ask, I’d do just about anything.

Suddenly, his eyes change from a penetrating gaze to an animalistic certainty.

He’s made up his mind about something.

“Come with me.” He turns to lead me off the dance floor.

He pulls me quickly, urgently, and in a few short seconds we are in one of those dark, hidden places, you would have to know was there to find.

He turns around to face me, moving me with his body until he’s pinned me against the smooth stone wall.

The music still pounds and the lights are just visible through the trees that shield us from the party.

I can’t control my breathing.

He places both hands on either side of my head and lets his weight bind me to the stone.

He’s breathing heavily.

His cock presses into me.

Desire pools in my stomach and moves lower.

My soft body melts into his rock hard torso.

He takes a hand off the wall to finger my pearls. Tugging them gently.

“Interesting choice,” he says and then leans in until he’s kissing my neck. I’ve never felt a man’s tongue on my skin.

It makes me shiver.

“Ohhh,” I can’t help myself.

The feeling is foreign and amazing. I don’t think I can get anymore turned on.

His voice is low, raspy, “You like that?”

“Mmmmhhmm,” is all I can manage.

He moves his hands to my hips and pulls my body slightly off the wall while he continues to devour my neck.

His hands are firm and steady. Slowly he moves them to my lower back and down to my ass. His large hands palm both cheeks and spread them apart.

A low throaty sound escapes his lips. Like an animal.

His right hand finds my leg and hitches it to his hip. He thrusts into me, moving his hips so I can feel his dick through our clothing.

I wrap my leg around his lower back and meet each thrust.

Suddenly, his body moves away so his hand can touch me.

His fingers lightly trail up my inner thigh, and find the only pair of sexy black lace panties I actually own.

Another quick thank you to Jas for insisting that I throw them on, before his touch brings me back into my body.

Massaging his fingertips into the lace, letting me feel his strong hands through the fabric.

His fingers make small circular movements.

Oh wow
.

I moan.

Loudly
.

Before I can take another breath his finger is on the inside of my panties, and then…

Inside me.

I feel every inch of his invasion. Instant heat floods my body.

I’m dripping for him.

I’ve lost all ability to think as his finger moves in and out.

The desire is intoxicating.

All consuming.

In and out.

In and out.

And then he inserts another finger.

“Ahhhhhh,” my mouth goes slack.

It is exquisite.

With a wry smile, “More?”

His silver-blue eyes dance with amusement.

He’s enjoying himself.

Enjoying the control he has over me.

I nod once, slowly. Trying desperately to keep cool, even though I’m blazing.

We stare into each other’s eyes as his fingers continue their relentless rhythm. In and out, in and out.

As his eyes grow darker he increases the rhythm and begins massaging my hard nub with his thumb.

Blinding light.

Stars.

Never-ending music.

I find my release. It’s like nothing I’ve ever felt on my own.

He lets out a sound low in his throat.

I watch as his lower lip relaxes. His features transform with his release.

Intensity burns in his eyes and something else. Satisfaction?

My body is sated, but I want more.

We’d only spoken a few words to each other, but I want this man to fuck me.

Was it the alcohol?

The red dress?

No, it was just me. Finally ready to focus on my body. Focus on indulging the desire.

He pulls out of me slowly as his other hand slips into my dress from the side.

He manipulates my breast while still staring into my eyes. His thumb and forefinger pinch my nipple, bringing on a new sensation of intense pleasure.

I am ready for him to take me right here.

Instead, he releases me completely.

I am carrying my own weight again. And I feel so heavy and so light at the same time.

“It was a pleasure, Giselle,” he says with a wicked smile and leaves the hiding place.

I fall back against the wall and work on steadying my breathing.

Holy crap!

Did that just happen?

I was pretty good at using the law of attraction, but this?

I wanted to catch his attention. I wanted him to touch me. And bam!

Your wish is my command.

I close my eyes. Existing in my body for a moment. Feeling the blood pulsing through my veins. Through my newfound body.

I am ignited.

And ready for more.

The next morning, I hear my door burst open.

And then Jas and Kim jump on the bed.

“Time to shop!” Kim shrieks.

“Whaaa?” I was still dreaming. “Let me sleep.”

I turn my head towards the wall and hug my pillow more tightly.

“Hey! You asked for this remember, Luv?” Jas isn’t listening.

Had I asked for this? I remember
intending
to ask for this, but had I actually done it?

Oh yes, now I remember on the walk back I had mentioned it to them.

And then I remember…other things that happened last night.

Damon
.

I can feel the blood rise to my face.

“What’s that?! Eh?” Jasmine.

Kim turns to Jas, “Oh she’s all pink and glowy again. Like last night…” her voice crescendos and then decrescendos suggestively.

“I’ll tell you after I’m dressed,” I placate them.

I hear them giggle as they close the door behind them.

I sit up. Flushed from my memories.

The sunshine spills through the window.

It is a new day.

And I am wide awake.

After a morning of successful shopping, at a slew of trendy boutiques I would not have previously dared to enter, I had a whole new wardrobe complete with sexy lingerie to wear underneath.

It was all somehow still me, just more sophisticated, with a hint (and in some cases way more than a hint) of sex.

I’d given Jas and Kim a brief account of what had happened with Damon.

They had both looked impressed.

“That’s hot!” Jas had nodded with wide eyes. “Give the girl a red dress and some red lipstick and she’s off to the races.”

“You mean you’d never…you know, had that done to you before?” Kim was more shocked by my lack of experience than by the act itself.

“See, it surprises me that you guys had time to have that done to you
and
had time to do all the other stuff we had to do in order to get in here,” I’d answered.

Kim just shrugged.

Jasmine explained casually while holding up a purple dress in the mirror of one of the shops, “Luv, orgasming was part of my study plan. You know, part of staying focused and organized. Essential, really.”

A sales girl walked by just then. And then scurried away.

Kim and I had laughed, making Jasmine turn to us, “What’d I say?”

Satisfied that I had made a new start towards being bold enough to visually represent what was waking up inside of me I hang up my new wardrobe and head to my first set of classes.

None of the courses I had enrolled in started before 2:30PM.

I was
not
a morning person.

My second and final class on Monday is a history of art class that I am particularly excited about.

The topic: “Evolving Sense of Beauty: A Study of the Human Figure through Nude Art.”

I told myself my interest wasn’t in the erotic extensions that could be drawn from the title, but from the idea of beauty and how it had changed.

A half-truth. The constant bombardment and subsequent castigation of women through the media’s definition of beauty disgusted me.

It was something I struggled with.

The idea that I could be making myself look beautiful by their standards vs. my own definition vs. what men found attractive…?

It was a fine line I was interested in exploring in college.

The buzz around campus was that Professor Erik West is one of the youngest full-fledged members of the faculty.

According to the girls sitting directly in front of me he is also supposed to be a dynamic lecturer.

“I met a senior yesterday who told me that he showed up to the very first lecture of this class
butt naked
last year AND he looks like that guy who plays Eric on
True Blood
,” one of the three says to the others.

Wow.

I guess that explains why the 200 person capacity lecture hall is overflowing.

People are sprawled out on the floor and all through the aisles.

“What?!” the girl in the middle responds.

“I know, right! College is SO awesome,” the freshmen girl on the right adds.

They all laugh as do a few others listening to their conversation.

I smile.

College
.

Finally here.

I take a moment to look up and appreciate the room that housed the cacophony of electricity coming off of the hundreds of students waiting for the class to begin.

It isn’t a huge lecture hall.

The front wall is covered with four columns of white boards stacked in twos so they can be pulled up or down.

There is an extra-large wooden desk that looks fixed to the floor in front of the white boards. Next to it is a portable podium.

Like most lecture halls it has stadium seating, but unlike most rooms the walls on either side are covered in beautiful stained glass that depict…

Everyone suddenly stops talking.

When I look back towards the front, I see that Professor West has already walked in.

Wow.

He is wearing a black trench coat and no shoes.

He really is going to give this lecture naked again?

OK
.

His face is symmetrical, full lips, a jaw line that makes my mouth water, and light green eyes. His hair is a dark sandy color.

He stands looking back at the students in complete silence. Hands in his pockets.

No one is talking, but when he moves his hands and starts undoing the knot of his trench coat belt, the silence grows so deep I think people stop breathing.

And the coat drops to the floor.

“Psych!” His face contorts into a mischievous, almost boyish grin.

He is
practically
naked.

He’s wearing nothing but a tiny red speedo.

But geez can he pull it off. His tall, athletically lean body is defined from top to bottom.

Not in that gross bodybuilder way, in that svelte swimmer-athlete way. The
V
just below his hips is perfect.

It’s a mouth-watering cut.

People start commenting animatedly and the mood lightens.

Some people laugh.

“You guys really think I would give this lecture naked?
Come on
,” he says the last two words like a character on a TV show I can’t quite place.

OK, so the guy is hot, brilliant, has a sense of humor, and is just a few years older than his students?

I don’t know what I thought my professor would be like. But it wasn’t
this
.

“I just told everyone from last year to spread the word so that I could see how many people would show up to see me naked. We had a good turnout last year for a first time class, but this is what I’m talking about.” He gestures to the overflowing room.

He walks to the desk.

Gah. Seeing him move is even better.

He quickly puts on a tight black t-shirt, jeans, and flip flops.

I suddenly feel overdressed in my new red spaghetti-strap sun dress. My fingers play absently with my pearls as I continue to take him in.

“Actually, I did want to perform
sans vêtements
, but I didn’t think it would go over too well with some of your more sheltered contemporaries.” He looks accusingly out at his audience, moving his eyes from left to right, like he is reading a book and we are the words.

He pauses a second in the middle, near my seat. “And then there’s the tedious paperwork and maybe even a call from the university president. Nooo, thank you.”

He shoves his hands into his jean pockets and shakes his head slowly.

Several people chuckle.

“I did, however, rename the class to include the word
nude
which may have brought some of you here.” He points to a few people here and there.

A group of freshman looking guys in the back laugh knowingly.

Good to know this place hasn’t made brilliant synonymous with stuffy.

“OK, OK. Enough levity.” His face turns serious, darker.

“Lights.” He presses a button on a remote that activates the screen above the white boards.

A portrait of a naked woman is projected. I don’t recognize it, but it looks like something from the Italian Renaissance.

“Giorgione’s
Sleeping Venus
, circa 1500. The contemplative attitude towards nature and beauty of the figure is typical of Giorgione. The composition of this painting was highly influential, despite the fact that overtly public displays of such imagery continued to be restricted for centuries…” he begins.

There is more coming out of his mouth, something about full figured women and a comparison to today’s starving media.

There may have been something about varying ideas of beauty and people’s idea of beauty being more personal before the media blitz.

I don’t know.

I hear everything he says, I think.

The focused look on his handsome face transforms his entire essence from gorgeous professor to intense, mouth-watering, sex god.

I want to touch him.

“In closing, we will also be exploring ideas of beauty as they relate to individual moments captured by the masters and how we can extrapolate some life lessons in being fully present from moment to moment,” he stops to lean against the desk.

He surveys the crowd as our eyes reflect the projection back to him.

He stops somewhere in the middle again. There’s a raw darkness in his voice now, “Experiencing beauty and pleasure is our right. And when one is privileged enough to attend one of the most prestigious institutions in the world—it is our duty.”

For a second I swear he’s looking at me.

“Thank you.”

Applause.