by Kahlen Aymes
She met my eyes again. “White wine?” she asked.
“Champagne,” I decided. This might be the only opportunity to be with her, depending on the outcome of our conversation, so I wanted to make her feel special. “Cristal, please. And, can we hold the reservation a bit longer?”
“I’ll be happy to sir,” André said, picking up my empty Manhattan glass and left us.
“Are we celebrating?” Addison asked, hesitantly.
A slow smile slid across my face. “We should be, Addison. I’m intrigued. I’ve never come across anyone like you,” I admitted.
“I confess that I’m grateful that you see promise in my writing. I never expected that you’d...”
Addison’s words dropped off.
“I don’t want you to be nervous.”
“I am a little. I can’t help it. You’re—”
André appeared with two champagne glasses and a free-standing bucket filled with ice and the expensive champagne wrapped in white linen. He pulled the bottle out and uncorked it, catching it with the linen after the loud pop emanated. I studied Addison as she watched André work. She was breathtaking and I wanted her, badly, but I wanted her to trust me. I did want to help her bloom as an author, but I also wanted to be her lover; to see her flush with pleasure and come alive in my arms. I found I wanted that desperately. The question was, could I keep my libido in check long enough to earn her trust? She’d said some incredibly bold things, both in my office and via text message, and I prayed that was the young woman she’d be this evening.
André poured a little champagne into my glass and asked us if we wanted to order an appetizer as I tasted it and nodded my approval. He preceded to fill Addison’s glass and then mine two-thirds full.
“I don’t need anything before dinner,” she murmured.
I nodded at the older man and he discreetly left us. “You were saying?” I asked, taking a sip of the dry sparkling wine.
“Well, Jax,” she emphasized my name as if it were an effort to think of me by my given name. “I think you’re a bit intimidating.”
“Just a bit?” My eyebrows shot up and I smiled, trying to ease her fear with humor. “I’ll have to try harder, then.”
She laughed softly as pleasure over took her beautiful face. “Yes, a bit.” She reached for her champagne flute and took a stip. “Mmmm. This is good.”
“I suppose that’s better than you saying you’re scared to death. Am I intimidating to everyone, or just to you?”
Her head cocked to one side. “I think you know that in general you’re larger than life, but to your students you’re more so.” She managed to skirt the issue.
I wished I was closer to her; wished this was a booth and not a table so I could sidle up beside her and feel the heat emanating between our bodies. “Only the serious ones. The others who just take the class for titillation waste my time.”
“An interesting word; titillation,” Addison said, her slender fingers toying with the stem of her glass. “Isn’t that what the class is all about? We are learning how to turn people on. What did you expect?”
She was surprisingly calm. “You’re quite forthcoming for being admittedly intimidated,” I responded. “And yes, of course, but those who aren’t there for the right reason steal time away from those who are serious about writing.”
“Do you want me to be intimidated?”
I didn’t hesitate to put it on the table. “No, Addison. I want you to be uninhibited.” Her luscious mouth fell open in a little gasp. Apparently, she wasn’t used to my brutal honesty. “I thought my intentions were clear after our meeting in my office, though, I’m trying to be good since you have trepidation. I have a sincere desire to help launch your career. Regardless of what happens between us.”
“Why?” she asked, her eyes intent as they looked at me over the rim of her glass when she took another sip of the golden champagne.
“Of course, I feel you’re a brilliant writer. You have a natural gift.”
“And?” she asked astutely.
“I’m inexplicably drawn to you. I can’t put it into words.”
“You? Jaxon Michaels have no words?”
“Touché,” I said, then licked my lips.
“Are you sure you won’t expect something in return?” It was a statement not a question.
I set my glass down and leaned forward across the small table toward her. “No. I don’t expect anything. I want something, and you make me want it. If you think I’m the one with the power here, you couldn’t be more mistaken.” I’d lowered my voice knowing my tone was sensual. “Unless you’re in a similar place? Wanting wise, I mean,” I said suggestively.
I knew she desired me. I could see it in her hooded eyes, the way her mouth dropped open slowly; in the way she held her body. Sexual tension radiated between us. She felt it, too. If she didn’t know we would be discussing more than academics, she wouldn’t have agreed to meet me outside of the university.
“Isn’t every woman putty in your hands? I see how the women all react to you. They’re all mesmerized. You probably leave them crying in the aisles.”
“I’m not an inexperienced man, Addison. I know the difference between idol worship and desire, and the former doesn’t interest me in the least. I find it juvenile and unappealing. And let’s just be done with this so we can move on; putty is boring. You’re much more than that. You’re full of fire and intellect, and that is what I find fascinating about you. For the first time in my career I feel like I’ve found someone who has the same inner passion that burns me alive. A hunger for story-telling, and more. The industry is loaded with would-be writers.” I knew I was getting intense and didn’t want to scare her. I could tell from the look on her delicate features that my bluntness might be overwhelming. I sat back in my chair and took a deep breath, then reached for the champagne bottle to refill both of our glasses. “You make me hungry on several levels and I sense it’s mutual. Whether we act on it or not, depends on you. How do I make you feel?”
She shifted in her chair and a blush bloomed on her cheeks. I hoped her discomfort was unsatisfied sexual tension and not fear.
“You can be honest. Even if all we do is work on your manuscript, you may expect brutal honesty from me. That’s just who I am.” I waited for her response for a few seconds as she considered it. ‘It’s okay to tell me the truth, Addison. I respect it.”
She cleared her throat and took another sip of her champagne, then spoke slowly. “I find you extremely exciting, but at the same time; you’re larger than life; sort of untouchable. Which can be scary.”
“Believe me, Addison. I’m touchable.”
“Yes,” her lips curved into a small smile as she looked down at her lap and then back up at me. “Jaxon…” A shiver ran through me at her use of my full given name. “I am just as turned on by whatever this is, but honestly, I’m afraid you’ll break my heart, and I’m not an idiot.”
The intense throbbing that had been nagging at my groin since she’d arrived only got worse hearing her admit that she wanted me, too. I already knew it to be true, but somehow hearing her say it, made it real. Yet, she felt she could get emotional and that wasn’t something I wanted to encourage. The prospect made me pause.
I tented my hands and studied her, though my instinct was to reach out for her hands. The desire between us was a tangible thing, but I had to remember that she was young and her emotions had yet to acquire the callouses that life had a tendency to add over time. When I didn’t say anything, she continued.
“Remember when you said in class that sex to men was different than it was to women and we should remember our audience? In this case, I’m your audience, Prof—” She stopped and bit her lower lip with her perfect top teeth before opening them again. “I mean, Jax.”
“You don’t think we can have a physical relationship without developing feelings,” I stated.
“Given how passionate you seem… well, how I imagine it would be with you, it’s dou
btful, and...”
I wanted to tell her she had no idea how passionate it would be… “And?” I prompted.
She closed her eyes and bit her lip. Instantly, my cock was as hard as steel; my mind pictured her hair splayed against white sheets, her eyes closed in passion as I fucked her, her orgasm a mere breath away. It was all I could do not to reach down and wrap my hand around the swollen appendage pushing insistently against the confines of my dark dress slacks. Thank God I wasn’t wearing jeans, or I would have been in physical pain.
“And, I think as a writer of love scenes, you’ll agree that men can’t fall in love without sex, and women can’t have sex without falling in love. At least, not the sheet melting, heart-pounding kind.”
“Like I think it will be between us,” I ground out.
“Yes,” she admitted.
“I’m sure it will,” I almost growled out. “Count on it.”
Her eyes closed slowly, and she moaned. “I know. I can already feel you inside me and you haven’t even touched me.” She looked at me with wide eyes, startled by her own words. “Oh.”
“Jesus Christ,” I groaned as her words shot straight to my already aching groin. Talk about giving me a dose of my own medicine! Did she expect me to be celibate with her after she said something like that? It was like we were the only people in the restaurant, the only people in New York, the only people in the entire fucking world.
I knew that it didn’t matter how long I had to suffer, how much time I had to spend without touching her, or how much torture it would be to be close to her without taking her, if I wanted it to happen, I had to be patient, but I wouldn’t lie to her in the meantime.
“I come with my own warning. If you don’t want me to fall in love with you, then we can’t get physical.”
I wanted her so much, I wasn’t sure if I wasn’t willing to risk it. I realized her words to me, here in this restaurant was like her writing. Sexy as fuck and whether she’d designed it that way or not, I was lost. A light sweat was breaking out on my skin, making my shirt lightly cling to the muscles of my arms and chest and I threw back the rest of the champagne in my glass just as André reappeared.
“We’ll take it a day at a time.”
She only nodded.
“I have your table now, sir,” André said. “I bet you’re starving by now.”
“You have no idea, Andre,” I answered, with a smile though unable to pull my gaze from my lovely date.
I was afraid to stand due to the major boner I had working, but there was nothing for it. I grabbed the champagne bottle, letting the napkin fall loose to drape next to the bottle then started to stand, indicating with my hand that André should lead the way to the dining room and that Addison should precede me.
She wore a knowing smile as she left the bar in front of me. I could only hope that the dimness of the venue, the bottle and how close I was walking behind the enchanting young woman I was with would keep the other patrons from noticing just how very hungry I was.
The restaurant was small, but on the way to our table in the back Jaxon was stopped twice by people who knew him, and I was nervous about the introductions. Would he tell them I was one of his students? The last thing I wanted was to be known for dating my professor and sleeping my way to the top of publishing, though I wasn’t certain publishing was even in the cards at this point. I shouldn’t have worried because Jax used no labels; only my name. He was charming and gracious.
I was thankful for the stops on the short walk through the venue because it was a distraction from the conversation that had become decidedly heated over drinks in the bar area.
My body was aching in all the right and wrong places and attraction was so thick as it hung around us; I wasn’t sure if we’d even make it to dinner before going at it. I felt him. I couldn’t explain it any other way than I felt him, even though he hadn’t touched me until he ushered me through the restaurant with a hand at the back of my waist. I was sure he felt me tremble under his touch. I felt a bit foolish at the flutter in my stomach and weakness in my knees. He was sophisticated and worldly, and I was acting like a school girl afraid of her first kiss.
It should have concerned me that I was actually considering giving in to whatever this was, or could become, and something inside told me that he’d affect me this way regardless if he were my professor and held my career in his hands or not. It wasn’t the prospect of him mentoring me that had me so fascinated. I was a little embarrassed by how forthcoming I’d been with him about my desire, but I blamed the sheer palpability of the hunger that reverberated around us for the looseness of my tongue. Never before in my life had a man motivated this brashness in me, but then, I’d never been around anyone quite as engrossing, or in fact, completely disarming as Dr. Jaxon Michaels. He stole my breath even as I took in deep gulps of air.
He was all man; confident, sexual, impeccably dressed, and in control, though overtly sensually predatorial, and maybe that was the difference. He’d made it clear that he wanted me, both over text and in his office, yet I trusted him. I had no doubt that Jax would commit to keeping it platonic, if that were what I wanted. At this point; I didn’t. Not even close. My sex had clenched a hundred times during our little discussion, and there were moments when I’d been certain I would come just sitting across from him. I knew I should run away, yet I was held where I was by the promise of his desire alone. Like a moth to a flame, I drifted closer, though I was aware that I would be scorched alive.
I put the back of my hand to my cheek as we were seated at an intimate little table in the opposite corner of the restaurant. André took the beautifully folded linen napkin, unfurled it, then gently laid it across my lap. Jax’s deep blue eyes held mine captive the entire time and I felt as if I I’d lose myself. I didn’t believe in vampires, the devil, or any of the seductive anti-heroes that make for giant romance bestsellers, but I imagined that Jaxon Michaels had inspired several of them.
I’d underestimated his sex appeal. Despite everything I knew to be true in my limited experience with him, I’d come into this thinking that I’d be able to manage his insane provocation and my own inane want. Our little texting session was fun, but I’d honestly believed I’d be able to enlist his help and remain immune to his magnetism.
It was becoming clearer by the second that I wouldn’t be able to resist him for long; and I found myself anxious to be alone with him, even though one-on-one… I knew was done. I was no virgin, but I’d never in my life been affected in this hypersensitive, intellectual and physical way. Being around him was heady; his aura flooded all of my senses. The heady musk of his spicy cologne and his oozing masculinity made me swoon.
André waved his hand and instantly another silver bucket appeared table-side and as if by magic the champagne bottle Jax was holding was placed securely inside; a new linen napkin appearing around its neck.
Was he this intoxicating to every woman? I wondered as my eyes drank him in though I tried to hide behind hooded lids. I cleared my throat and shifted in my chair, crossing my feet at the ankles and pressing my thighs together hard in an effort to stop the pangs I felt in my core.
We looked at the menu, and Jax inquired what I’d like for dinner before relaying my choice to the waiter along with his own. I listened to his sultry, yet decisive voice in a sort of haze, not really hearing his exact words as he spoke, giving instructions and ordering a new bottle of wine. I was too immersed in my own thoughts about what would transpire throughout the evening and transfixed at the close proximity of the man I was with. I was excited and afraid all at the same time.
“I want to learn more about you, Addison,” Jax said as soon as he’d ordered our meals, and our clean flutes had been filled, training his full attention back onto me. “Tell me about your family and how you got into writing.”
I blinked, trying to refocus the direction of my thoughts. “My grandmother was blind from the time I was born. She wasn’t able to read bedtime stories, so she made them up and the
y were better than anything my parents or teachers ever read from books. I guess, I get my inspiration from her.”
Jax settled back in his chair holding his drink with a look of awe on his handsome features. “That’s incredible!” He was truly interested. “I’d think you’d be writing children’s books. Is she aware you’re writing a novel?”
“Oh, no.” I shook my head. “She died when I was ten.”
“I’m so sorry,” Jaxon said, sincerely.
“Thank you,” I murmured. “It’s okay. The stories she told were some of my happiest memories of my childhood. I felt so warm and wrapped up in love.”
Slowly, his tongue came out and he briefly licked his lips before they curved into an appreciative smile that reached up into his eyes. “Did you write some of them down? Perhaps you could publish them for her, someday.”
My eyes widened at the possibility. “That would be so amazing, but I didn’t even consider that.”
“Are your siblings equally creative?”
I shook my head. “I only have one brother. He’s three years older and graduates from pharmacy school in the spring. He’s nerdy and analytical; not at all artsy.”
Jax offered a lopsided grin and with one nod of his head. “I see. I too, have just one brother, and he is a stuffed-shirt attorney,” he dismissed dryly. “We’re nothing alike.”
I already knew that his father and brother had an established New York law firm due to the time I’d spent researching him prior to enrolling in his class. “Not following in the family footsteps, then?”
He snorted and rolled his eyes. “I did start out pre-law, but I find the whole thing rather boorish. My father was very upset that I didn’t want to join the family dynasty. He said writing was a poor-man’s profession.”
“I guess you’ve more than proven him wrong,” I said reaching for my glass. Realizing how my statement sounded, I wanted to recant. “Oh. I didn’t mean— that I thought…”
