Ignited & Unhinged (Billionaire Secret, Book One)(Billionaire Romance, New Adult Romance, College Romance) Read online

  “Good to know. I’ll add it to my list of late night food places.” I smile back, determined to be cool even though I was starting to feel hot.

  “My suitemates and I are making a list.” That sounded less cool.

  “Didn’t they include that kind of information in your freshmen packet? Places to eat, places that deliver, places that are open late…?” He raises an eyebrow.

  “Yeah, I guess they did.” I nod. “But we like to compile our own data,” I answer in a mock business tone.

  The waiter arrives and takes our order. Our glasses are filled with cucumber water before he leaves.

  The water is delicious, I’d never tried throwing cucumber slices in before. Very refreshing.

  “So how are you feeling this morning?” He’s watching me carefully. Eyes scrunched together like he’s trying to figure something out.

  “Fiiine.” I let the word drag on like I’m not sure why he would need to ask. “How are you feeling today?”

  I clearly have no idea where this is going.

  “Well you did sneak out.”

  “I didn’t sneak out. I thought I was being considerate by not waking you. Plus, I wanted to sleep in my own room.”

  He looks away from me dismissively. “Yeah, OK.”

  He doesn’t believe me.

  “Why is that so hard to believe?” I wonder out loud, confused.

  “So you didn’t run away because you felt weird about what happened?”

  What happened?

  “Weird?” What the hell was he talking about? “I’m feeling kind of lost here, Damon. You’re going to have to help me out.”

  “Well, you know…” he glances around like he’s checking to make sure no one can hear and then lowers his voice to a whisper, “I took your virginity.”

  Uhh.

  Was it normal for guys to be this concerned about taking someone’s virginity?

  When I don’t say anything, he explains, “I thought you would want to cuddle and sleep over.”

  Is that what I was supposed to do? What I was supposed to want?

  I don’t dwell on the shoulds of the situation because something he’s just said irks me.

  It needs correcting.

  “You didn’t take my virginity. I set out last night to sleep with you.”

  I speak slowly to make sure he gets it, “And I did. And it was great. And I left feeling great. I just wanted to sleep in my own room.”

  The whole thing comes out like I’m trying to get through to someone who is mentally challenged.

  The line that had formed between his eyebrows disappears. His entire face relaxes.

  “You aren’t shitting me are you? That was all completely true.” He shakes his head like he is trying to clear it.

  I don’t know what to say. I was obviously telling the truth. Why would I lie about something so insignificant?

  I smack my lips together and nod slowly.

  “You are a strange one.” He runs his fingers through his hair.

  “Why because I tell the truth? Because I was supposed to want to cuddle?”

  The idea of snuggling into his bare chest with his strong arms around me did do something to my body…

  But the truth was last night I was on a mission.

  I succeeded so I went home.

  It was pretty straightforward. It had to be. I would not let myself get all twisted.

  I don’t know how many of my thoughts he can read as they travel across my face, but the fascinated look he’s giving me makes me curious about his experience, “What kind of women are you used to?”

  He seems thrown by the question, like I’d just blown his mind. “Apparently, the lying needy kind,” he laughs.

  Our food arrives just then and we eat now more relaxed in each other’s company.

  We talk about college, and classes, and his favorite thing about SE House, and my observations of college so far.

  When the waiter clears our plates. His mood turns more serious.

  Like now he’s the one on a mission.

  “I realize that you are new to this…sex, I mean,” he begins, “but there’s something about you, you are clearly comfortable in your own skin and you aren’t afraid of your desires.”

  He stops.

  Something occurs to him. “Why were you still a virgin?”

  I open my mouth to give some totally cool answer I’ve prepared if asked.

  But the truth is I don’t have any kind of explanation prepared for this particular question.

  So I just opt for the unfiltered truth.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?” I shrug.

  Why should I hold anything back? He’d already seen me naked.

  The words come out in one aggressive heap, “Do you remember how hard it was to get in here? I barely slept in high school. I didn’t have time for guys and that was just fine by me since most of my girlfriends turned into complete ass hats the second they got a boyfriend.”

  It always bothered me how my friends changed before my eyes.

  Suddenly, it was all about their boyfriends.

  They wouldn’t make plans to hang out unless they were sure their boyfriends didn’t have plans.

  And then would cancel if the guys became available. Their grades suffered.

  They were emotional wrecks when anything was going wrong in their relationships.

  It was a mess and I resented having to deal with any of it.

  Already not enough hours in the day…

  “I’m sensing some anger there.” He leans away fractionally.

  “Yeah, well, I’m not a fan of the way some women lose themselves when there is a guy involved.” I sound pissed.

  All of the feelings from high school coming back.

  He holds up his hands, “Noted.”

  He looks…impressed? Baffled? Intrigued?

  I wave a hand and then cross my arms, leaning back against the soft booth, “Anyway, you were saying?”

  “Yes,” he pauses, folding his hands in front of him on the table, “I know you are new to this, but I wondered how open you would be to…broadening your horizons,” he chooses his words carefully.

  “What does that mean?” I shake my head.

  “Would you be willing to suspend any…preconceived notions about what you believe sex should be, and how pleasure should be experienced?”

  He’s speaking in a very formal way. Like he’s propositioning me for something.

  I’m nervous now.

  “This isn’t some kind of Fifty Shades thing, is it?” I half-joke, the smile not quite reaching my eyes.

  I lower my voice conspiratorially, “You’re not trying to tell me that you want to lock me up in a sex dungeon…”

  He laughs. Hard.

  The couple sitting nearest to us turns in our direction.

  “New or not, your imagination takes you to some dark places. No, I’m not a sadist, although I don’t look down on those who are.”

  OK.

  “Know many sadists, do you?” I’m half surprised he even gets the reference.

  “Probably more than your average Joe, but it isn’t my scene.” He waves the topic off like it doesn’t concern us.

  He leans forward and takes my hands.

  “I’d like to take you somewhere tonight, if you’re up to it.” He’s softer now, less formal.

  “It is a place of secrecy and pleasure. You won’t have to do anything, nothing will be asked of you and we can leave whenever you want.”

  Softer, but more mysterious.

  “Why do I feel like I’m Alice and you’re the Mad Hatter about to lead me down a rabbit hole?”

  His lips twitch up, “I’m not mad and you can choose whether you want to come with me and when you want to leave Wonderland.”

  We sit in silence, while his thumbs stroke the back of my hands.

  He’s dissecting my expression again.

  “
What are you thinking?” he finally asks.

  I don’t know what to think. What to say.

  He squeezes my hands when I don’t answer right away.

  “I’m not sure.” Is all I’ve got.

  “I think you will like it. It’s about pleasure.” He looks hopeful.

  “Yours and mine,” he prods.

  Well I was all about experiencing pleasure these days.

  I don’t, however, want to be turned into some playboy’s plaything—and he isn’t giving me many details.

  Or any.

  “Can I keep my phone with me at all times in case you turn out to be a serial killer who keeps women in some secluded house in the woods?”

  Damon’s mouth falls open a little and then he chuckles.

  “Uh, OK sure. We have an app I can install on your phone, it will disable the camera and voice recording capabilities of your cell when you are…in the vicinity, but 911 will still work.”

  “We?” I question.

  He just grins.

  “And you can tell your suitemates that you will be out with me, in case you don’t come back, the police will know where to begin the investigation,” he jokes.

  I narrow my eyes at him.

  He can see the curiosity in my eyes. The need to know.

  The appetite for new experiences.

  The idea of going with him to find out what he has in store for me is a little scary and a little delicious.

  He gives me a wicked smile, he can see it all there in my face.

  “One night,” he challenges.

  The way he says it makes my insides turn.

  CHAPTER 8 Billionaire Secret: Prada & French Daybeds

  I walk through Prince Gate, the main gate that secures The Campus from the rest of the city, at exactly 9PM.

  The central City Green is just opposite the gate, across the street.

  I’m unsteady walking on the old cobblestone pathway in my thin black heels. They match the long black Prada dress Damon had sent to my room.

  I wasn’t even sure how he knew it would fit.

  He’s there underneath the tall Gothic arch that separates The College from the real world.

  Leaning confidently against a shiny black car.

  In a tuxedo.

  Damn he looks good.

  My thoughts take a turn. I wonder what else we could do in that car…

  I drop my head, hoping he doesn’t notice the blood rising to my face.

  “What?” he asks, curious.

  “Nothing,” I shake my head in an effort to clear it.

  He smiles. “You look lovely.”

  “Fits like a glove.” I look down.

  He touches my collarbone lightly, “I’m glad the pearls made another appearance.”

  He leans down to kiss me on the cheek and then opens my door.

  When we are both inside, he hands me a black folder.

  “What’s this?”

  “A few formalities.” He’s all business.

  OK, now I’m nervous.

  I open it to find a non-disclosure agreement.

  I had spent enough time interning at my aunt’s law firm to recognize the document and understand the legalese.

  It was standard. I can’t tell anyone about anything I witness tonight or who I witness doing it.

  Where the hell are we going?

  I read it quickly and add a line of my own that says the agreement is null and void if I come under any harm or am touched by anyone in any way. That should be broad enough to keep me safe.

  I sign it and hand it back to him.

  He’s looking at me curiously.

  “You don’t need me to explain it to you?”

  I give him my best no-nonsense business tone. “No, it is pretty standard.”

  I like sounding like this. Cool, professional. Like I knew what the hell I was doing.

  “Although, I did add terms of my own. Go ahead and initial the changes if you agree,” I say feeling kind of like a badass.

  He reads the line out loud.

  “I think we can accept that,” he chuckles and writes DW next to my terms. “Now, another formality.”

  He holds out a piece of black satin and then lets it fall open.

  A blindfold.

  What had I signed up for?

  My head is at war. I’m waving between seeing red flags and letting some inner vixen out.

  The curiosity overcomes any sense of self-preservation.

  My voice shakes without my consent, “Is this really necessary?”

  “Yes.” Is all I get.

  His face is a mask. Completely unreadable.

  Gorgeous. But unreadable.

  The mystery of the moment makes something drop in my lower belly.

  I feel a little wild.

  Bold. Which is exactly what I want to feel.

  The new Elle.

  I place the large blindfold over my face, careful not to smear my red lips or tangle the waves I had created.

  Now that I can’t see anything I become very aware of my breathing. When had my breathing picked up like that?

  The car starts and we begin driving.

  “Can the driver hear us?” I wonder out loud.

  “No, the privacy glass is sound proof. He can only hear us if I speak to him through the intercom.”

  “Will it take long to get there?” My voice is starting to sound a little uneasy.

  “So is this your standard second date activity?” I tease to lighten the mood and calm myself down.

  “No.”

  My head turns toward him automatically since I can’t see him.

  Waiting for him to say something else.

  “I’ve never taken anyone here. I’ve never wanted to,” he answers.

  He sounds…surprised?

  I think about that.

  It makes me feel more calm and more curious about what I am about to encounter.

  What was it about me that screamed sexually adventurous? Maybe I was just open?

  Oh well, too late to analyze this now. I would just go along with it all and see.

  Just another experience.

  Beside me, Damon laces his fingers through mine. “Are you nervous?”

  Nervous? Anxious? Excited? Curious? Ugh. Too many questions. I settle for, “Yes.”

  He gives me a gentle squeeze.

  “It will be fine and if you don’t like it we can just leave. And that will be that.” I hear him sigh. It’s heavy with something.

  “A kinky college memory that you can…well you won’t be able to tell your grandkids about, but you will always have it as a memory to remind you that your freshman year you were bold.”

  He must have turned to look out the window because his voice is no longer directed at me.

  “It is a very secretive organization, you’re lucky to be getting a glimpse,” he says thoughtfully.

  Now my imagination is running wild. Was this some orgy-type situation? Porn? Secret society of real vampires (as in mortal humans that like the taste of blood and buy into the whole vampire underground culture)?

  “You’re not going to turn into a werewolf are you?”

  He laughs. It’s an unhindered boyish kind of laugh.

  It makes me smile.

  “You’re kind of hilarious, you know that?” I think he’s shaking his head.

  He keeps laughing. The sound relaxes me.

  “We’re here,” he says, just as the car stops.

  The entire ride had only lasted about five minutes. We must still be somewhere on or directly adjacent to the main campus.

  He takes the blindfold off and smooths my hair back into place, letting one finger brush against my cheek.

  “Here.” He hands my cell back to me.

  He must have taken it from my clutch to install the app.

  I’m suddenly relieved I hadn’t packed anything embarrassing like the extra sach
ets of Earl Grey I usually carried with me.

  Or the Sour Patch Kids that were equally likely to be found in most of my bags.

  I glance out the window, but there aren’t many street lights.

  The building is old and large, but otherwise nondescript.

  As he helps me out of the car I look up and down the street. It’s a wealthy neighborhood, filled with large buildings that look like they could double as converted offices or large residences.

  I listen for some sign of what is going on inside, but there is nothing.

  Complete silence.

  In fact, I can’t hear anything coming from the entire street.

  Damon grabs my hand and ushers me up the steps.

  The large front doors are made from a dark wood, a single flower is carved in the center of each.

  He scans something to the right of the door, there is a beep and then we are inside.

  “The entire building is completely sound proof,” he explains when I raise an eyebrow at how much noise we’re hit with.

  There is music. Some of it could have been from the 1920s.

  There is laughter.

  The sound of glasses clinking together.

  People talking.

  And…other sounds.

  There are a few couples standing off the main square foyer.

  I look down. The floor is made of some white marble or granite.

  I look up. There is a giant crystal chandelier above us. The light is soft. Reminiscent of candlelight.

  The couples are preoccupied with each other. Very preoccupied.

  They continue to make out in various states of dress as we pass.

  This isn’t so bad. So far these were only heavy make out sessions just like at other… black-tie parties.

  My curiosity propels me forward towards what sounds like the main party in the main great hall.

  Behind the closed double doors in front of me.

  Damon catches me around the waist just as my hand reaches one of the doors, “Whoa. You’re not ready for that!”

  He places a hand at the small of my back and steers me away from the doors towards a long open hallway on the left.

  It led to another wing of the building.

  There are a few open doors up ahead.

  As we draw closer I can hear people.

  People having sex.

  I stop short and listen. Looking up towards the ivory ceiling, focusing on the crown molding, I hear the sound of skin on skin.