Consume Me (A Burning Desire Novel) Read online

  Taking a step forward, I inadvertently missed a step and ended up launched face first towards the ground. Panic grabbed me fiercely, but I was aware that I won't be able to fight back. I was going to hit that ground whether I liked it or not.

  It felt like a flashing-by kind of instant. One second I was standing on my naked feet, the next I was aiming towards the hard floor carrying the shame of offering such a public entertainment, hearing some 'ooh' and 'aah' and warnings that felt like an echoing sound in the back of my head.

  Before I'd realized it, I felt two strong grips around my waist. I held my arms to catch my equilibrium and ended up with my face struck against hard shoulders.

  In my wry state, I froze. I was vaguely aware of my cheeks against the soft fabric of merino wool, smelling like a mix of fresh mint and musk. I was still immobile; stunned and feeling self-conscious about my clumsiness. I was also positive that my motionless state, wasn't only due to my public spectacle, which then consisted of cheering and a variety of applauds aimed at my rescuer.

  It was also the electrocuting feeling I'd felt when I came in contact with my faceless savior and his heavenly smell.

  "Are you alright Miss?" His voice was deep and cultured in a way that made my stomach clench and leap. He kept silent for a moment then spoke in a perfect French.

  "Mademoiselle, vous allez bien?" The French added a raspy touch to his tone.

  When I finally managed to find my equilibrium. I held myself steady and raised my head at eye level with him.

  He was gorgeous. Lavishly so.

  I could barely manage to breathe. I was struck by the magnificent maleness that transpired from the man standing in front of me - holding me - with his strong grip. He was filling his tall and lean silhouette with such confidence. He had a natural powerful vibe. His tailored bespoke blue suit carried his body and hugged it perfectly. He wore his light brown hair on the side and spiked in a disheveled mess. I took in the sight of intense gray eyes transfixing me with a hot gaze. I couldn't help my eyes traveling through his features. My heart skipped a beat peering at exquisite cherry colored lips.

  I took in a hard breath, refraining myself from going blank again and to avoid getting the strange creature from speaking in another language trying to decipher mine. He already asked me in German and Italian while I was so busy staring at him like he'd smacked me in the brain.

  "I'm fine. Tout va bien."

  He looked at me with a surprised frown. He was made by angels. Dark gaze and built like a god. He confirmed my thoughts by grabbing me and carried me down the stairs. Before I'd realized it, I heard him talk to another man asking him to grab a water and the purse I'd let down during my fall.

  "I said I'm fine sir." Before I finished my sentence, he'd sat me inside a car and stood in front of me.

  "Are you sure? Vous êtes sûre?" I couldn't understand his worried look. He'd prevented the fall, I wasn't injured.

  'Probably your horny-teenage-like stupor, you bitch!'

  My latent-bitch scowled at me sharply.

  "Yes. I'm sure. Thank you for the save. I can be the clumsiest person on earth sometimes." I explained with a weak smile.

  "Why don't you let me drive you home? Maybe you were dizzy or sick. I'd feel much better." I turned to stand outside the car, but before I knew it he stopped me and shoved himself and me further inside a limousine.

  'He might be exceptionally beautiful, but a limo, in Paris, really?'

  I had many latent personalities, that one, was gifted from my bourgeoise mother and mocked the lack of taste she'd witnessed.

  "Hey." I cried out. "J'ai dit tout va bien, laissez-moi descendre." I called out for him to let me out. He didn't budge.

  "Calmez-vous et donnez votre adresse à mon chauffeur." His voice was commandeering. It was hot. I was frustrated.

  He was asking me to calm down like I was a crazy person who just shoved a total stranger in their tasteless car and adjured him to give his address to another stranger like a despotic maniac.

  "Miss? You blacked out again. I mean... Vous avez l'air...»

  I cut him off holding a hand between us.

  "I know what blacked out means. I'm American, not French."

  "Oh. Not French?"

  I nodded.

  "Well then, all the more reason for me to make sure you're safe."

  I snorted at the comment, "So if I wasn't American, I'd be less worthy of your oppressive hospitality?"

  I laughed at the absurdity of it, "Jeez... I wish I'd known."

  His expression sobered for a glimpse of a second before he faced me with a sheepish grin.

  "We'll take you to your hotel." He paused for a beat, "Or mine. You choose."

  What the hell was wrong with this man? Did he just proposition me or had I dreamed it.

  I opened my mouth to give him a piece of my mind but he silenced me with his thumb over my lips...

  "Before you say something that would make me angry or that you would regret." He spoke only inches to my face.

  His hot minty breath did things to my insides that I didn't fully comprehend.

  "Let me tell you that, first of all No I wasn't suggesting you come to my hotel so I can fuck you senseless, but rather to make sure you're not sick. We'll leave the fucking for the very near future. But I will drive you to wherever the hell you're residing, whether you like it or not."

  He finished talking and twisted his mouth ruefully, then stifled a laugh, probably because I was eyeballing him and his crudeness.

  I wanted to yell at him. I wanted to slap him, or maybe kiss him.

  WHAT!

  He maintained eye contact, seemingly amused. But there was also a hint of something I couldn't crack. Something burning in his eyes - anger-like - or - hungry-desire - that made me lose all ability to fight.

  I wasn't used to being told what to do, but the nerves the man had to suggest the sex, or the confidence in its probability. How did he know what I thought was a total mystery to me. But I felt inclined to comply with his demanding tone.

  I turned to his driver.

  "Rue de Rivoli, Cour Napoléon, please."

  His driver just nodded from the rearview mirror and I decided to ignore the man sitting next to me, and everything he'd made me feel.

  I picked up my heels and slipped them back on. I decided to call Jenna to let her know I'd meet her at the club with Micah. He was staring at me. I could feel it. And the more he did, the more I found it hard to concentrate on my breathing.

  "Can I offer you a drink?" He asked pouring himself some bourbon.

  I shook my head no listening to Jenna complaining about the heat wave. I was feeling one myself, but it had nothing to do with the cooling sun. It was the man sitting beside me cross legged and holding an unfathomable expression.

  "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 inti
mate parts.

  I snatched the glass of bourbon from his hand and washed off the lump in my throat. I cherished the burning feeling, it'd got me to 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 like he was doing it on purpose.

  Finally, his eyes leveled with mine and he smiled one of those smile 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.

  "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... Or 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.

  Chapter IV

  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 really 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 mankind, 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 onto 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 to my ear, stilling me against his chest.

  I tried to shuffle my way out of his grip.

  "Let go of my ar...»

  He cut me off with his lips on mine. He sucked at 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 eagerly 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 like I could eat him alive. I couldn't stop, nor did I wanted to. It was too good. I'd never experienced anything like it before.

  "Are you coming bac
k 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 way too 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. 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. Like 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.