Consume Me (A Burning Desire Novel) (4 page)

"So
I take it you're fond of art. Are you an art student?"

He said
once I hang up the phone.

I
turned my face towards the window and snorted. "What makes you think that
I am?"

"Well,
you're not French, but quite frankly you could've fooled me. You're heading to
the Louvre, on a Sunday afternoon, which suggests you either know your way
around the crowded scene or completely unaware of it."

He was
probably referring to the endless line in front of the museum, and he was
right. I had a membership card, which made the access very easy for me.

"That
still doesn't make me an art student, or does it?"

"So
you're not an art student?" His mouth twitched.

"I'm
not." I stated still avoiding his gaze.

I
didn't want to look at him. Every time I did, I had a weird feeling in my
stomach. It fluttered. His scent made me fantasize about him; kissing me,
touching me in places that clenched achingly. I was at a complete loss as to
what I was feeling.

His
palm pulled at my cheek and he turned me to his suddenly-too-close face. My
breath hitched. I could feel those stupid butterflies again. I crossed my legs
to calm the foreign ache I'd felt deep down, in my most intimate parts.

I
snatched the glass of bourbon from his hand and washed off the lump in my
throat. I cherished the burning feeling; it helped me concentrate on something
else other than his mouthwatering scent.

"At
least I was right about the fondness for the art." His words were concise,
but his eyes were traveling all over my body. It made me hotter. I was
suffocating. It was as if he was doing it on purpose.

Finally,
his eyes leveled with mine and he smiled one of those smiles that didn't quite
reach his eyes.

"So
where do you live Miss...?”

"Why
do you ask?" I didn't want to give in any more than I'd already did.

"I’m
just making conversation." He kept that amused look that did nothing to
damage his features or calm the alienating feeling, so I chose that
conversation might be the better alternative to distract me.

"New
York."

I
answered without giving any details. "What about you?"

"What
about me?" He asked holding that damn smirk that made him look hotter, as
if it was possible.

"Well,
you're clearly not French. Are you here on business?"

He
brushed his knuckles against his lips, suppressing a smile. I wished those were
my hands...

Better yet…
my lips.

"What
was your clue as to my being not French?"

Well
you asked for it Mr. I-rule-the-world.

"Easy.
First the car; riding in a limousine in this city is tacky and exclusive for
middle-eastern businessmen who are in the habit of showing off their money, or
drunk young tourists." I threw a proud grin his way because I knew I was
right. "And you have a foreign accent, it might be a discreet one, but I
heard it when you spoke."

That
was a lie. His French was perfect. But I needed it to satisfy my ego.

I
regretted it for a second when I saw his beautiful smile fade.

"Tacky,
huh... I'll take notice for my next trip, again, Miss...?”

He
sounded amused, although his expression was unreadable.

"Dane,
Clea
Dane. And you are?"

He quickly
retrieved his lost grin and smiled broadly,

"That
would be Mr. Tacky with an accent for you, Miss Dane."

The
wink calmed my fury. I was sure that if I were to stand, my knees would've
turned into Jell-O, and I was about I was about to find out; we were closing on
my destination.

"Fine.
It doesn't matter anyway." I grabbed my purse and launched myself out of
the car as soon as it came to a stop.

"Thank
you for your hospitality. Goodbye." I said without turning back.

"Have
a nice day Miss Dane. I'll be seeing you." He said through the window.

"I
seriously doubt that, rude bastard." I yelled at the disappearing car,
attracting the attention of a tourist crowd waiting for their bus.

I went
on about my business. I was troubled through the rest of the day. I'd never
been affected by anyone the way that man did in the thirty minutes I'd spent in
his company. I'd spent the rest of the day enjoying my favorite paintings,
taking pictures of the crowd until it was time to meet with Jenna and our
friends from Paris for one last party in our favorite club in the city.

I kept
blinking my eyes rapidly. I damned myself for drinking too much, to the point
of hallucinating. I took another cautious step hoping that the tequila shots
hadn't completely damaged my cognitive abilities.

No luck
there; he was definitely walking towards me with that same hot gaze. I'd
thought about his eyes during the past week. The closer we got to each other; I
could feel his scent hitting my olfactory receptors reminding my body of the
way it was supposed to react to him.

All
those feelings came rushing through every inch of my body.

Was he
there?

Was I
going crazy?

I had
the answers to those questions.

He was there,
standing in front of me, all dark, and lean. He wore a white dress shirt that
hugged his beautiful strong shoulders in the sexiest way known to humanity,
black slacks held by a gorgeous Hermes belt. They fell in a way that made all
my senses alert to his slightest movements before going on to complete
meltdown.

In my
inebriated state, I took slow steps towards him. His eyes followed me, running
through my body and provoking goose bumps all over my hot skin. I was
astonished by his presence there. What was he doing there?

I'd
never met the man in over five years around Manhattan and I stumble upon him
twice on two different continents. The universe was definitely screwing with
me.

I
stopped only a few inches from him. I could smell him. He had the same scent,
the one I'd only ever smelled on him. He closed the mere distance that
separated us, I could feel his warmth, making me all hot and damp.

"Well
Miss Dane. You are a hard woman to find."

His
voice came out all raspy and defying.

I had no
clue what he meant by hard to find. I was still rattled.

"What
are you talking about?"

My
voice came out all shaky and small.

He
didn't answer my question. He was trying to decipher my thoughts.

I took
a hard breath. "What do you mean hard to find?"

He moved
forward, closing the distance I'd made and leaned inches to my ears. His hot
scent hit all my nerves.

"What
do you think it means, Miss Dane?" He slightly brushed his lips against my
cheek before steadying himself.

I
wasn't going to play at his game.

Get a
grip
Clea
Iris Dane!

He was
dangerous for my resolve. I would get lost in those eyes without any way for me
to come back.

I came
to my senses, and without any word, I brushed him off and walked past him
making my way back to my friends. I needed to be far away from him and that
unusual feeling I had around him.

I
couldn't walk fast enough, but before I knew it, he gripped my wrist and pulled
me to his chest in a strong guided pirouette.

"Where
do you think you're going?"

He
breathed gruffly into my ear, stilling me against his chest.

I tried
to shuffle my way out of his grip.

"Let
go of my arm...»

He cut
me off with his lips on mine. He sucked on my bottom lip and nipped at it. I
was completely lost.

He
stood back and watched me sink without moving. He just looked into my eyes with
gorgeous hungry ones. Everything went blank in my head. I was only staring at
his lips, not even maintaining his gaze. I wanted him to kiss me again.

Without
processing it any further, I brought my lips back on his. I ached for him. He
tasted like caramel.

Slowly,
we were nipping and biting at each other. I couldn't hold my moan and offered
him an opening. He took it all too eager and deepened the kiss stroking my
tongue. I responded with my own swift lushes and moans.

I bit his
lower lip, extracting a groan. He let go of my arm and clasped the back of my
head pushing deep inside my mouth, sucking at my tongue. His kiss was skilled,
his lips as firm as they were smooth and sweet.

I was
pressed full body against him. I could feel his heartbeat raging at his chest.
It was all I needed to grapple at his hair, pulling at the strands and
directing my mouth on his. We were sharing breaths. We nipped and sucked at
each other in a symphony-like tempo that went from one note to a higher one
with each pleasured moan we’d extracted from each other...

"I've
been waiting for this kiss for more than a week." He said cutting the
kiss. We were breathing erratically.

I
didn't process his words. He sealed our lips together again. Swiftly, he grabbed
my butt and I wrapped my legs around him. I could feel the tip of his hardness
against me. I felt my breasts getting heavy and I couldn't control the damp
mess that grew between my thighs.

I was
vaguely aware of my surroundings. He was all I could think about; him and that
long full of lust moment we were sharing. Our kisses grew hotter. I was going
positively crazy. I was kissing a total stranger as if I could eat him alive. I
couldn't stop, nor did I want to. It was too good. I'd never experienced anything
like it before.

"Are
you coming back inside or what?" Faith came to an abrupt stop and froze.

"Holy
Clea on a Stick!" She clasped her mouth and laughed, probably at the irony
of her comment.

I freaked
out. He steadied me on shaky legs. I looked at my friend feeling self-conscious
all over again. After all, what would I say? I was kissing a man I knew nothing
about, not even his goddamn name. It was way past the cookie jar.

"I'm
sorry sweetie. I thought you were alone out here." She grinned at me
sinfully, "Obviously, I was mistaken."

Her
smile, added to her comment, made me feel more ashamed. I started getting upset
about the whole situation.

"It's
okay Faith, let's get back inside."

My friend
was excessively amused to let go of the opportunity.

"Hi.
I'm Faith Soars." She extended her hand to the stranger I'd been kissing.

He
shook her hand with an all-American-dashing-smile and looked at me with a
knowing glance.

"Landon
Davis. It’s nice to meet you Miss Soars."

Landon
Davis...

My
kisser's name was Landon Davis.

I kept
repeating his name in the back of my head. It felt like a victory to me,
because I didn't ask for it again. Faith fell short of words all of a sudden.
Then she opened her mouth slightly and shut it with a frown.

"Hold
on a second."

She
blinked at him and took a step closer.

I
couldn't understand her reaction. I thought she might've had too much to drink.

"Landon
Davis. The Landon Davis?" She kept repeating his name and I searched my
head for someone called Landon Davis.

"Like
Davis International? As in Davis & Crawley? Like that Landon Davis?"

If
she'd said his name once more, I might've knocked her out.

He
offered her another smile,

"That
would be me, yes"

She
turned to me without any attempt at being discreet and mouthed an OMG while she
was still shaking his hand.

I
didn't know who he was supposed to be.

"Pleasure
to meet you too Mr. Davis."

She
finally said then looked between us

"How
do you two know each other?"

She was
eyeing me curiously and I could tell she was secretly blaming me for hiding it
from her.

I knew
that look all too well.

"Miss
Dane and I met in Paris, during her stay there." He looked at me and
smiled from the corner of his mouth

"And
I was looking forward to meeting her again." His smile turned to a defying
expression and it reminded me of what he'd said to me when he came out there.

"Paris
huh?"

She
eyed me suspiciously and I grew uncomfortable.

"Yes.
Mr. Davis and I met in Paris.”

I said
dryly

“And he
coincidentally happened to be here tonight. Now how about we let him get back
to his friends and we do the same?"

I spoke
quickly hoping that Faith would take a hint and just let go.

I
turned my back to him and grabbed my friend

"Goodnight
Mr. Davis." I yelled walking towards the entry.

He
didn't follow us; which was a blessing relief. Faith kept silent. I left her at
the table and made my way to the ladies-room. I needed a moment to compose
myself, and process what'd just happened. Pushing through the swinging doors, I
was thankful for the empty cabinet.

"What
just happened?" I mumbled to myself

I sat
on the toilet and tried to make sense of what had just happened with Landon
Davis.

He was
the stranger from Paris for me. A rude asshole that had me somewhat spellbound
and triggered some inner needs I never knew existed just by standing in front
of me.

I'd
never felt that way around someone, anyone.

He made
me lose all ability to think or rationalize like a normal human being.

When I
was close to him, I was a bundle of lust and endless need; which was ironic for
the unconverted virgin I was. He had some kind of a hold on me from the moment
I'd fallen into his arms, and I had no freaking idea how it happened.

Moreover,
I was astounded by that kiss. It felt like heaven. Truth was, I have thought
about him since that first encounter, especially about his lips. They'd haunted
me just by looking at them. How was I going to get past kissing them then? It
was a total mystery to me. I was surprised by their softness and firmness, how
his gentleness got to an intense exertion of violent avidity.

Two
giggling female voices cut on my course of thoughts.

"Did
you see how gorgeous he is? Those tabloid photos don't do him any justice."

One of
the girls said.

"I
know, right?"

The
other responded with another fit of giggling.

I
peered from behind the cabinet door.

"I
wonder if he's staying in New York. Doesn't hurt to try and tap that."
First blonde-haired said.

"Yeah
right. Like you'd be able to compete with holy Evelyn Crawley and all the
others he'd dated." Second blond snarled.

"Why
not? It won't hurt to try."

"Wishful
thinking honey. However, lurking doesn't hurt. Are you done?"

"Yes.
Let's go lurk around."

I heard
the swing of the doors and another crowd came in. I had no idea who he was.
They said Crawley. Faith mentioned the same last name. I searched through my
head for the name. I watched some television shows and I was up to date with
movies. He was no actor. I wouldn't forget that face.

I
snapped myself out of my confusion and decided to push the matter to another
day. I even fought my need to get online and search for him on Google.

I
returned to the bar and ordered two Jet 27 and a tequila shot. I ordered a round
of tequila to be brought to our table. I needed to be drunk again and finish
celebrating. I gathered my courage and walked to my friends.

They
were all eyeing each other. I had no other choice then to cut it short.

"Yes
I know Landon Davis. No, I'm not talking about it. Rain-check?"

I
slipped onto Jude's lap and raised my glass to my stunned-faced friends.

"This
conversation isn't over." Jude warned me discreetly and I nodded my
agreement.

The
live jazz singer was wearing a beautiful scarlet dress, much like my own. She
had way more curves to show for, and a golden skin that glowed smoothly. Her
voice felt like an angel calling and in one beat she switched to 'Little Willie
Jones' 'Fever'

"Great."

I
scolded under my breath. It was just what I needed. Music had a way with
situations.

I was
feeling a little less anxious by the sip. Each drink brought me back to a
relaxed state. I pushed to my feet and beamed at Jude.

"Will
you sway with your boo?"

He
returned one of his drop-dead-smile and took my hand. "I can't think of
anything better."

We had
moves together. Dancing was our best escape back in the day and we never missed
on an occasion to learn a new dance. Girls used to get jealous.

Before
Jude's big coming out, people used to think we were an item. When he came out,
I became the poor fag-hag. I thought it was funny. I was the only person he'd
confided in and it made the perfect cover around his very conservative family.
We started moving to 'Frank Sinatra' 'That's life'. The male singer added his own
beat to the song. Jude and I made a show out of it. We brushed and flexed with
some sexy moves. We guided each other in our own bubble moving to the melody
and reminisced about how we used to be maladroit around each other when we'd
first partnered up, but still made people jealous of our intimacy. He finished
with a dramatic move arching me and pulling me in an embrace.