by Kahlen Aymes
Fear seized my heart. What was I doing even considering this arrangement? No matter how much he could benefit my career, I knew he could break my heart. Jaxon Michaels was dangerous.
Without thinking, I slammed my laptop shut without shutting it down, grabbed my book bag, shoved the computer inside and frantically zipped it closed.
“What are you doing?” Michelle whispered. “There’s still thirty-five minutes left in class.”
“I feel like I’m going to throw up. I have to get out of here.” I stood and began moving through the row to the aisle. “Excuse me. Sorry. Sorry.” I said to those I needed to move past. As I got to the end of the row, I looked up and into a brilliant blue stare. I swallowed and then rushed up the stairs and out of the auditorium. Somehow, his voice continued without missing a beat behind me.
My heart was beating so fast I thought it would fly from my body. I found the bathroom in the lobby of the building and burst through the door of the first stall I could get into; puking my guts up without even closing the door behind me.
When I was finished retching into the toilet, I pushed my hair back off of my forehead and tried to catch my breath. The foul taste in my mouth made me blanch. I was on my haunches still staring at the toilet as it flushed.
What the hell was that?
Thankfully, the bathroom was vacant. Who would miss one word of Jaxon Michael’s lectures? I stood up and picked up the backpack I’d unceremoniously dropped at my feet and moved out of the stall to the sink, to splash some cold water on my face and scoop some up to suck into my mouth to rid it of the icky taste.
“Oh, God,” I said, leaning my weight on the counter. My head lifted and I looked at my face. My eyes were wide and my skin, that I was sure was on fire, surpassingly pale. I wasn’t a virgin, so why was I acting like he was going to devour me, body and soul?
Maybe because he was.
I left the bathroom and walked across campus. I usually walked the mile to the small studio I shared with Michelle, but today, I hailed a cab on Broadway. My head was pounding, and I really did feel sick. All I wanted was to get home and crawl in bed.
The Manhattan traffic was always busy, but it wasn’t yet rush hour, so it was only a matter of minutes until I was paying the cabbie and going up the stairs to my apartment on the north end of campus.
The apartment had one corner for the kitchen and small table and the two twin beds were along the opposite wall, and the center third served as the living room with a sofa and television mounted on the wall. It was sparse, but it served its purpose.
I had one more class after AOS, so the first thing I did when I got home was get out my laptop and email the instructor that I had the flu. I was thankful for the ability to submit the assignments online. I gave my teeth a quick brush and used a swish of mouthwash to rid my mouth and was changing clothes when a ping came through on my phone. I’d thrown it down on my bed before switching on the television and changing into sweatpants and a baggy T-shirt. It was probably Michelle, I thought, grabbing a scrunchie from the drawer of the nightstand next to my small bed and pulling my dark hair into a lose bun on top of my head.
I took a diet Sprite from the small refrigerator and flipped through the cable channels to find something to watch before picking up my phone and glancing at the screen.
What happened to you? Are you alright?
It was from Jax, not Michelle.
I leaned back on my pillows contemplating whether or not to return the text. It was Wednesday and I didn’t have to see him until class on Friday. Maybe I just needed to put some time and distance between us to center myself. I inhaled and took a sip of my soda.
Addison answer me. Are you alright?
I knew he’d persist if I didn’t answer.
I think I have the flu. I threw up outside the lecture hall, so I caught a cab home.
Do you need anything?
Yes, my mind railed. I need a time machine. I need to go back before our meeting today.
No, I’m okay. Thanks, though.
I sat my phone down next to me and picked up the remote again. It was a few minutes before another text came through. He must have been weighing whether to ask what he really wanted to know.
Are you reconsidering?
Should I tell him the truth? He said he’d know if I was lying and I found I didn’t want to.
I might be. You’re more than a little intimidating. I’m flattered, and I really would like your help on my book, but the rest is a bit overwhelming.
I hesitated before hitting send. Was I about to close the door on any possibilities, professional and personal? I pushed the button before I could think about it too much.
I heard the key in the lock just before Michelle opened the door. I quickly shoved my phone underneath the covers of my bed.
“What happened?” she asked, dropping her bag on the sofa and walking toward me to sit down next to me on the bed.
I lifted one shoulder in a half shrug. I would have a hard time lying to Michelle. She’d known me since we were assigned as roommates our freshman year, and we were practically inseparable. “I just felt sick. I ran out into the bathroom and threw up, so I came home.”
She pressed the back of her hand to my forehead and then my cheek. “You don’t feel warm.”
“Probably something I ate,” I tried to dismiss her concern. “No biggie.”
Her expression twisted. “We ate the same things.”
I shrugged again and shook my head. “I don’t know, then.”
Ping.
My phone sounded from beneath the covers.
“Do you want me to make you some soup?” Michelle asked, getting up and walking into the little kitchen to begin rummaging through the two crates that served as our pantry.
“By that do you mean open a can of Campbell’s?”
“Hey, don’t make fun of my cooking ability when I’m trying to help you.”
“It sounds gross, but thanks.” I pushed aside the covers so I could look down at the screen of my phone.
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you. Let’s meet for a dinner, if you feel up to it. Somewhere public so you won’t feel uncomfortable, but we should talk again.
I didn’t know why, if we weren’t doing this, that we needed to talk about it, but still, something inside of me wanted to meet him. I closed my eyes as I struggled with myself. My friend was chattering away, but I wasn’t listening. Ping. I glanced down again.
Are you still sick?
I feel better. I think it was nerves.
Then, please, Addison.
No one called me Addison. Until Jax.
I pushed up off of the bed, grabbing my iPhone as I did so. “I’m going to take a bath, Shell,” I said and went into the small bathroom without waiting for her reply. After the door was closed behind me, I sat down on the edge of the tub, thinking about what to say.
You’re famous. What if someone sees us?
Jax’s response was instantaneous.
Honestly? I don’t give a rat’s ass. Manhattan has a population of almost two million. We’ll blend.
I smiled and leaned over to start the water in the tub, adjusting the temperature and adding a generous portion of my Code scented bath gel which soon began making bubbles. I stood and placed my phone on the small vanity top of the single sink and peeled off my clothes, then leaned back and picked up the phone before I sank down into the tub of warm scented water as the tub continued to fill.
In the matter of a few seconds I was going from apprehensive to giddy.
When and where?
Erminia. I’ll send a car for you
Wow. It was known as one of New York City’s most romantic restaurants and practically impossible to get in to without reservations well in advance.
No. I’ll get a cab. Michelle will wonder what’s up.
If you insist.
I could almost hear his wry response. And let out a small laugh.
I do. What should I wear?
<
br /> Semi-casual, but sexy. Casual is optional, sexy is mandatory.
I sat there staring at my phone while mentally scanning my closet for something appropriate and wondering how I’d explain my little evening out to Michelle without spilling the beans.
I shrugged mentally. She’d probably find out anyway. I wasn’t one to hide my emotions; they shone like beacons from my face. I trusted her and whatever; nothing was stopping me from going to meet Jax. My body was buzzing at the prospect alone. It was like something you read about in Bram Stoker’s Dracula. His name resonated in my brain and I knew I wouldn’t be able to stop thinking about him. I hurriedly tapped out my response.
When?
Not soon enough. When can you get there?
A thrill went through me. He was anxious; already seducing me with his words and I was falling for it. Hard.
“God, what am I getting myself into?” I asked myself softly.
I’ll meet you at seven.
That’s two hours from now.
I chuckled softly. I could almost hear the lament in his voice as if he’d said the words.
Did anyone ever tell you how brilliant you are?
It was a cheeky response, but he deserved it.
Daily.
I laughed out loud. Of course, he’d say that. He was hot, but he was also funny and smart. A lethal combination that was impossible to resist.
I set myself up for that one. I didn’t think you were the type to take advantage of a lady.
As I typed, I almost second-guessed myself. Should I say that? Was it too bold? My heart pounded as I waited for his response. It didn’t come as quickly as the others.
You think you’re vulnerable now, just wait until I get my hands on you.
Get out now if you don’t want this, because “want” is all I’ve been doing for weeks.
My mouth fell open and my breath rushed from my lungs, my heart thrumming inside my chest. I closed my eyes as moisture surged in my now ravenous body. He’s dangerous, I reminded myself again. So dangerous.
Addison?
His text came in as I considered his words. He was demanding. He was demanding in class. Would he be so demanding in bed? No doubt he’d be a masterful lover. I almost came, just sitting in the bathtub. My mouth suddenly dry. Suddenly the greedy desire he provoked left me aching… fucking starving. I couldn’t help the appropriate play on words. Would he understand?
I’m coming.
No. Don’t. Wait for me. Promise me.
I sucked in my breath knowing exactly what he meant. We were both so in sync with each other.
I promise.
I’ll see you at seven.
He read into two little words, and I wondered if I’d typed the double entendre intentionally. I put the phone down and rushed to my closet, my insides still quivering, my breath shallow. I had to look amazing. I had to make him want me… as badly as he made me want him.
7
“Goddamn.”
I muttered aloud even though I was alone at a small table by a window, sipping my drink. I told myself it was creepy as hell to stare at the door like a rabid dog and forced my eyes to concentrate on the cherry sitting at the apex of the cocktail glass before I took another sip of the cold, but iceless, bourbon mixture. Manhattans were the drink of choice for my grandfather and father and somehow my brother Jefferson and I both followed in their footsteps. The men of my family weren’t pretentious, but they were old-school gentlemen, which, belied what I was doing even more. On summer visits to their home, I remember my grandmother making my grandfather, Emory Michaels, a Manhattan cocktail every night when he came home from his law firm. Without fail.
I wondered what my grandmother would think of me waiting to pounce on my delicious, and maybe defenseless, student. It wasn’t as if I didn’t know how heady a combination my literary career, and my natural alpha tendencies were to some women. Combine it with money and I could pretty much do whatever it took to sweep women off their feet. I knew it, and yet, right now, I was willing to do whatever I had to do to convince the stunning Addison to plunge recklessly, and headlong, into an affair. I swallowed. If my reaction and hers when we were alone inside my cozy, yet very academic office was anything to go on, this would be a passionate affair. Extremely so.
I could picture my father’s scowl and disapproving shake of his head at the direction of my thoughts, and let’s face it; my intentions were just as laser focused on the outcome I wanted. Even my brother, Jeff, who was somewhat of a scoundrel, would scoff. My head fell back, and I closed my eyes, inhaling deeply at how fucked up this was. It was completely out of character for me, yet I was buzzing with anticipation and already my body was aching. I was like a heroin addict who would sell my soul for my next fix.
Was I selling my soul? I wondered. All I knew was that I’d never wanted anything more, never had this ferocious hunger for anyone. And what was just as intriguing, her mind sucked me in as much as her body turned me on. I ran an impatient hand through my hair and glanced at the screen of my phone. 7:10 PM.
I was already on my second drink and told myself to lay off so as not to get sauced before Addison arrived at the trendy, exclusive eatery I’d chosen. A lone piano player tinkling the ivories of a beautiful baby grand sitting along one side of the bar that was separated from the restaurant by the large mahogany wall with the hand-carved bar and beveled glass mirror. The atmosphere was old-world with dark furniture, original brick walls left without plaster, white linens and candlelight flickering throughout.
The host, André appeared beside the small table. “Sir, it’s after seven and your table is ready.”
I pulled out a roll of bills from my pocket and unfurled the top one and handed it to him. “Just a few more minutes, please, André?” I smiled up at him. “I’m sure it’s just traffic.”
André was an older, very distinguished man with an Italian accent, clearly the patriarch of the family who owed the restaurant. He put up his hand and shook his head. “Oh, that’s not necessary, Professor Michaels. I’ll hold the table, sir.”
“Thank you. I would appreciate that.”
“My pleasure, sir. Would you care for another drink?”
“I’ll wait for my dinner companion. Thank you.”
I watched his retreating back as he moved through the bar into the restaurant and as he passed, my breath caught in my throat. Addison had come in while I was speaking with the host and she stood, stunning, in a simple black dress that completely knocked me dead. The neckline was a halter, just low enough to leave the top swells of her breasts, her arms and shoulders bare. The soft material skimmed her curves, and then flared into a soft sway of fabric as she walked toward me. Her hair was swept up loosely, leaving enticing tendrils gracing the sides of her beautiful face and exposing the elegant column of her neck. Dark red lipstick graced her mouth and her eyes were highlighted with smoky shadow and a thick black fringe of lashes.
The air left my lungs in a slow whoosh and my hand settled on my chest as it started hammering in an unfamiliar way. Gone was the college student and here was a gorgeous, glamorous woman and time slowed to slow motion as she searched for me. Her legs, beneath the short dress went on for days and my gaze swept down their length to her sexy, and strappy black stilettos. Somehow, I’d managed to stand up from my chair.
Addison caught my eye as I approached, leaving my drink on the table. The light was low. The flickering candles giving her perfect skin a rosy glow and her eyes as I drew closer appeared more greenish blue. She was smiling beguilingly, making it impossible for me to breathe.
We stood inches apart with our eyes locked. Her full lips were glistening, and I wasn’t sure if it was gloss over her lipstick or if she’d licked her lips just moments before. Either way her mouth begged for mine to take and devour. I huffed out a small breath.
“Um… I wasn’t sure what to wear,” she said looking down at her dress. “I’ve never been here before.”
“You’re beautiful,” I s
aid simply, needing to touch her. I reached out to her arm, just below her shoulder, then slid down until my fingers were enclosing hers. “Stunning in fact.”
The corners of her mouth lifted in a shy smile.
“Come,” I murmured, nodding back toward the small, intimate table I’d just abandoned. “Would you like a drink before dinner?”
“Thank you.” She nodded gently and I ushered her in front of me and held her chair as she sat down. I could sense her nervousness and I desperately wanted to dispose of it. The last thing I wanted was her intimidated.
My body was still teaming with desire, but she was so magnificent I found myself speechless as I took my seat. I was a master of words. I was never speechless.
I sat back in my chair just looking at her and a felt a smirk tugging at one corner of my mouth as I appraised her. “Well, if you didn’t want me to eat you alive you shouldn’t have worn that dress.”
My hand smoothed down the front of my shirt and tie as André approached again. “Good evening, madam,” he said eloquently. “Would you care for anything to drink?”
