Ignited & Unhinged (Billionaire Secret, Book One)(Billionaire Romance, New Adult Romance, College Romance) Page 8

“Oh, having fun, are we?”

  “Yes.” I beam back.

  A guy comes up behind him to say hi. Bash introduces him.

  “What’s happening man? How’s that paper coming?” John asks.

  They’re still talking about their class when a wave of people press us against the bar.

  Some drunk sophomore had fallen over and people had moved quickly out of his way.

  Just then I feel a strong arm slip around my stomach and pull me backwards away from the bar and the commotion.

  The person lifts me off the ground with one arm and pulls me several feet away.

  When I’m allowed to stand on my own, I turn around.

  I’m face to face with Damon.

  My brain only has a second to register this fact before his mouth is on me.

  His tongue forces my lips wider apart, deepening the kiss. He’s kissing me in a sort of frenzy that quickly makes me moan.

  He breaks away, leaving me reeling.

  “You’re welcome,” is all he says.

  Strange way to greet someone…

  “For what, exactly?” I gasp because I’m surprised and because the exchange had taken my breath away.

  His eyes are wide, serious. “For rescuing you. That mob was about to crush you against the bar,” he responds with mock horror.

  “Oh right, of course, the slight discomfort of being mildly pressed against the bar would have caused me real injury.” My eyebrows draw together.

  He’s wearing light jeans and a white t-shirt, he looks like a ‘90s Calvin Klein ad.

  “Would. Have. Crushed you,” he says again.

  His gaze is intense.

  Hungry.

  His voice is low, “Let’s go somewhere.”

  It isn’t a question.

  His voice has a definite, immediate effect on me.

  My insides clench together, my mouth waters.

  It would be so easy to leave with him right now.

  Then the music rises up inside my brain calling my attention back to the party.

  Leaving with Damon would be fun, but I’m not ready to leave the land of margaritas and dancing.

  I want more. More forgetting. More fun.

  “Actually, I think I’m going to stick around and keep dancing.” I try to extract myself.

  His features cool. He looks confused, like what could be more fun than what he had planned?

  Which was possibly true, but for the moment I want to stay.

  And then his face changes again. He looks…annoyed?

  His eyes narrow. “Are you on a date?”

  “Date? Who would go to a Sextet party on a date?” That would be the most chill date ever.

  His voice is hard. “Well you were dancing pretty closely with that guy.” He nods in Bash’s direction.

  He sounds strange.

  “Yeah, so? He’s a really good dancer. It’s fun,” I shrug.

  He looks uncomfortable.

  Huh.

  Is he jealous?

  No.

  Damon Wright probably didn’t do jealous. He belongs to a secret sex society, for crying out loud.

  He’s probably just horny and irked I am turning him down.

  Ugh. Too much thinking, I want to keep not thinking.

  I am pleasantly buzzed and the music is calling to me.

  I turn away. “Anyway, I’ll see you later,” I say over my shoulder.

  The last glimpse of his face flashes before my eyes. He’d looked disappointed and…angry?

  Whatever. No more thinking. I shake my head clear of the image.

  I make my way through the thicket of people that separate me from Bash and find him craning his neck this way and that.

  His eyes find me. “There you are. Sorry, I just finished talking to John when I turned around and you were gone. I didn’t mean to leave you out of the conversation. We’ve just been dealing with an epic paper in our Russian philosophy class.”

  I wave it off. “No worries, I got pushed away by the crowd.”

  “Enough talking, finish your drink.” He holds it out to me.

  We both down what’s left in our cups.

  “Allons-y.” He slips into the French for let’s go as we head back to the dance floor.

  CHAPTER 12 Billionaire Secret: The Stacks

  I decide to spend my Friday in the library.

  My night of dancing was the exact break from thinking that I needed.

  I was looking forward to an all-day study session in the musty stacks.

  Fridays in the stacks were particularly delicious because most of the nine floors were empty.

  Thursdays were big party nights—students either didn’t do work on Fridays or couldn’t be bothered to leave their rooms if they didn’t have a class.

  I liked to study on the 7th floor, it had the most nooks and crannies.

  Desks tucked into the walls, hidden spaces, all with killer views of Litz Tower, the beautiful Gothic monument at the center of campus.

  The narrow aisles of books were also spaced differently on this floor. They didn’t line up with the desks along the walls so you weren’t constantly distracted by your peripheral vision as other students walked down the main corridor.

  By six I was nearly finished with everything on my agenda.

  I lean back in the desk chair and stretch my arms.

  I stand to return a book that belonged on the mezzanine level of the 7th floor, taking the stairs instead of the elevator.

  Ugh. Walking felt amazing. Slowly, I reconnect with my limbs.

  I reach the landing and find the aisle where I’d gotten the book. Placing it back on the shelf, letting my hands graze the other titles as I walk back.

  I reach the stairs and stop at the top, taking in the stacks. Breathing in the books.

  The smell relaxes me.

  After a few seconds, I start down the stairs.

  I’m almost at the aisle that leads to my desk when I hear the elevator open.

  I guess I’m not alone anymore.

  It had been hours since anyone else had occupied the 7th floor.

  Back at my desk, I stand facing the leaded window. The distant lights are like little stars.

  Litz tower is lit at the top so that the Gothic architecture can be appreciated at night.

  My body is still stiff.

  I do a quick yoga pose called tree or plant or some other vegetation, slipping out of my flip flops and placing my foot on the side of my knee beneath my black maxi skirt. I move my arms above my head.

  Whatever it was called, it felt great.

  I do a quick mental assessment of what’s left on my list, an outline for a paper that’s due in a few weeks and half a chapter of notes to study.

  I had just placed my foot back on the floor when I hear someone behind me.

  I don’t have time to turn around before that person has his arms around my waist.

  “You were missed last night,” a voice whispers at my ear.

  Damon.

  “I’m sure you did just fine without me,” I whisper back.

  Is he the person from the elevator?

  How strange, I hadn’t pegged him for someone who went to the library on a Friday. Or maybe ever.

  I remove his arms and sit down in the chair, swiveling to face him.

  “Oh is that what you think?” he sounds amused.

  I tilt my head to the side and look up at him, my eyes wide.

  He stares back.

  “What’s that look?” he sounds confused.

  “Damon, come on, you know I’m sure you have several people you can hook-up with whenever you feel so inclined. There’s probably an app for that.”

  “Is there? I never thought of that. Great idea, though.” he jokes.

  He’s about to laugh, I think. “So Miss Roberts, you think that because I was horny last night I accessed some list of fuck buddies I keep on my cell the second
you went back to the dance floor?”

  “Essentially,” I shrug, “it’s fine, no worries. We aren’t attached,” I say it simply, honestly.

  It is fine.

  “Yes, I remember your promise not to fall in love with me, but I didn’t do that and I don’t have a list.” He’s serious now. Matter-of-fact.

  When my face doesn’t change, he adds “I don’t have any reason to lie to you. I went home alone.”

  “OK,” I shake my head.

  Did that make me feel anything? I had shielded myself from thinking of my pleasurable pursuits in any real emotional way that could lead to getting hurt.

  It didn’t have any effect. I feel my shoulders relax a degree.

  I’m glad his answer doesn’t affect me. Grateful. I was new to this in every sense of the word and my shields hadn’t been tested yet.

  Maybe he was less of a tramp than I thought? No, no judgment. He could be as much of a player as he wanted to be.

  If I was going to refrain from judging myself for wanting to experience life’s carnal pleasures then I was going to have to stop judging everyone else.

  He breaks through my thoughts.

  His voice is low, predatory, “So, now that I found you. What am I going to do with you?”

  It has an instant effect on my body.

  I try to sound casual, unaffected, “What are you working on?”

  His face goes blank.

  “In the library,” I speak slowly, motioning to the books.

  “You think I’m here to study?” he laughs, like it’s absurd.

  It sounds arrogant, patronizing.

  It pisses me off.

  I narrow my eyes, challenging, “Why else would you be on the 7th floor of the stacks at 6PM on a Friday?”

  He reads the anger in my face and changes his voice. It’s silky smooth, “Why, looking for you.” He arches an eyebrow suggestively.

  His answer disarms me.

  Just like he knew it would.

  My stomach does a little flip.

  I cross my legs and lean back in my chair. “How’d you know I was here?” I disabled my phone so only the clock and a few other needed apps worked here.

  He crosses his arms and looks pleased with himself. “I called your suite. Jasmine told me you’ve been here all day. Her British accent is…pronounced.”

  “Yes, it is. I love listening to her talk,” I say quickly, it’s beside the point, “OK, but how did you know I was here? On this floor?” I motion with my hands.

  “In case you hadn’t noticed, this place is kind of huge,” I finish.

  “Easy.” He frowns, like it’s obvious.

  “Based on what I know about you so far, I guessed that you like to study with views. The best views start on the 6th floor. You also told me on that first night we were together that you like the musty smell of books. The 8th and 9th floors don’t have as many books, the space is laid out differently so I started on the 6th floor and worked my way here.”

  His eyes are bright. His smile triumphant.

  My voice is all surprise, “You went through all that?”

  He shrugs.

  “It was nothing really, it only took a second to deduce.”

  My lips twitch up in a half smile. “Are you calling me predictable?”

  He shakes his head, his eyes grow warm, “HA! Perhaps in your study habits, but, trust me, I can’t predict anything about you. You’re a strange one, remember?”

  I hug my knees to my chest. “So then, why were you looking for me? Were you hoping to learn about Botticelli? Or maybe you wanted to discuss Milton?”

  I sound like a smart ass. And I like it.

  “How droll of you. No, I had something else in mind,” his voice drops an octave.

  I recognize the lust.

  “You see,” he moves closer, “you left me wanting you last night. You left me thinking about your body and what I had planned to do to it.”

  He places his hands on the arm rests of my chair and leans down.

  His face inches from mine.

  “I didn’t go and find someone else, my head was full of your body.”

  He closes the gap between us, kissing me softly.

  An electric current runs through me.

  “I watched you dance the rest of the night. I watched you move those hips, those legs, every curve called out to me.” He leans in for another achingly controlled French kiss.

  “I just kept thinking of all the places I wanted to have you. You were very…enticing. Do you know how many guys were watching you dance? I wasn’t the only one fucking you in my head.”

  My insides churn with his words. I’m instantly turned on.

  There is nothing, but my immediate need for him. I pull him down onto me hard.

  Our lips move against each other hungrily. His tongue drives deeper and deeper into my mouth.

  A moan escapes my body.

  I reach for his pants. He wants me as much as I want him.

  My fingers brush against him, stroking him.

  He groans.

  “Let’s go…back to…your place,” I say it a couple of words at a time, between kisses.

  “Do you really want to leave?” he answers, his breathing shallow.

  “I just said I did.” I kiss him.

  He pulls away and looks into my eyes, “No, I mean do you really want to wait?”

  He’s gaging my response.

  I can see the hunger in his eyes…and the dare.

  I smile shyly. “You don’t mean…here?”

  “If you want,” he says slowly, silkily.

  My mouth goes dry. “But it’s a public place, anyone could see us.”

  I’m so primed for him, I’m not sure why I was even talking.

  “No, it’s past 6PM. You can’t get into the building without a student ID, and you can’t get up to the stacks ever without an ID and going through security.”

  He brushes my face with the back of his hand.

  “It’s Friday night, there’s no one here. No one but the books,” he whispers.

  “But someone could still see us!” My protest sounds weak even to my ears.

  It’s obvious to both of us that I want him to fuck me right here.

  His silver-blue eyes hold me, “Let me ask you something. If someone were to walk by and see, do you think they would stop and stare?”

  I consider that. “No, probably not.” Right?

  He continues, his voice velvet stretched over glass, “And if they did stop to watch us fucking? If they listened to you moan?” he pauses for effect. I stop breathing. “If they got wet or hard from watching you? Would you really care right now?”

  The thought of someone watching me was not something I had thought about before, but now his questions make my mind race.

  Would I feel embarrassed? If it was like with Professor West that night?

  Definitely, yes.

  But here?

  With us tucked away between narrow aisles?

  The silence…the musty smell of books…of the forbidden?

  Would I be embarrassed if someone found us having our naughty rendezvous and then watched?

  Probably not.

  It would be hot, really hot.

  My mind goes back to West.

  The memory of how it had felt to watch.

  His lean, naked body comes flashing before my eyes and I fall further into the lust.

  I look at Damon.

  Decision made.

  “Fuck me.”

  The effect on us both is immediate.

  I stand on the wooden desk chair as his hands dive beneath my long skirt, moving quickly to my panties.

  He pulls them off and lifts me to him.

  I wrap my legs around him as he moves the chair loudly out of his way so that he can pin me against the window.

  I feel the cold metal strips of the leaded window through the thin material
of my white top.

  He repositions me so he can hold me up with one arm. His other hand finds my sex…and inserts two fingers.

  “Ahhh,” the sound escapes my lips between kisses. I am so aroused he’s able to go deeper than before.

  I can feel the rest of his knuckles against my hard nub.

  But it isn’t enough. “I want your cock inside me,” I breathe into him.

  He withdraws his fingers and unzips his pants, letting them fall to his ankles.

  In one movement he’s positioned at my entrance.

  I stop him. “Have you…with anyone?”

  He knows what I’m asking.

  “No.” And he rams into me.

  He stills, holding me in his gaze. Lower lip relaxed.

  And then he starts to move slowly.

  Each thrust is mind-numbingly restrained—I can feel every inch of him.

  My hands go down to his ass. I pull him into me, but his strength easily counters my efforts.

  His controlled pace is completely unaffected.

  My body throbs for him. I lose all sense of time and space. Feeling more animal than human.

  I need him.

  My voice is the mere shadow of a whisper, “Please.”

  Without warning he slams into me.

  I cry out, letting the sound bounce off the books. Wake the silence.

  He withdraws slowly and then slams into me again.

  He continues relentlessly and each time my voice rings out.

  I can’t hear anything or anyone, there is only the sound of our sex and the smell of books.

  I’m here and somewhere else simultaneously—some higher plane.

  He starts to come at me harder and faster, filling me.

  When I think I’m going to lose my mind he takes one hand and presses down on my stomach while thrusting into me.

  My pleasure is intensified by the pressure of his hand.

  I let go. My body goes on and on.

  I am completely unaware of everything, lost in a sea of rippling pleasure waves.

  We collapse into each other.

  He withdraws and shifts my body so I am cradled against him as he pulls up his pants and slides to the floor.

  Our heavy breathing sounds so loud in the silent expanse of the stacks.

  My eyes fall to a book on the second to the last shelf that is now at eye level. It is a book on French furniture, I remember the French daybed.

  I smile, hiding my face in his chest.