Consume Me (A Burning Desire Novel) (3 page)

"Come on. You're still not ready?"
Jenna pouted at me and stood with her arms
crossed in front of the bathroom door.
I had a nap as soon as I'd gotten home. When I woke
up, I organized my new schedule, went over my contract, and slipped into the
shower only thirty minutes earlier.
I settled on a scarlet red dress; one of Ryan's
newest designs. It hugged every inch of my body, which gave me all the
confidence I needed to accept to wear something so bright. I wasn't one of
those girls who were confident about their looks. I knew I was average. I had
one of those eyes; the too-big-and-expressive ones. They were a mix of light
brown, and hazel shades, courtesy of my mother' side of genetics. Long
chocolate curls with too much volume that'd pushed me to adopt the upswept look
more often than I'd wanted.

I only grew satisfied with my legs because of Ryan's
constant nagging about how gorgeous they were. So with time, I got comfortable
with skirts and short dresses. Who was I to say otherwise, he worked with
models every day.
'Curves in all the right places and little apple
shaped breasts' or at least that's how the expert referred to my silhouette.
Whereas, I thought my breasts, or therefore lack of any, would be able to fool
people into thinking I was a man; if not for my hair.
Still, I attracted some men, not many, just the
right amount for the average girl. I wasn't a prude. I had my share of
boyfriends, but it never felt right or like fireworks. Except for that one
time, but it was with a complete stranger, so it didn't count.
"You look like a catch for the devil in
that dress." Jenna had a way with words, sometimes; I swear I could've
mistaken her for a boy. Well, if she didn't look so fabulous all the time.
"Thank you girlfriend."
"Hold on, I have the perfect shoes to match that look." She
disappeared into her room and came back with a gorgeous pair of Duncan
platforms.
"If no man proposes tonight, I'll lose hope
in humanity."
She offered me one of her sinful looks and
rushed me out.
"Nonsense. I'm not looking for my next
disaster, I just want to celebrate and feel good while doing it." I said
walking out to the door, or rather pushed towards it.
"Well, at least invest in a new vibrator to
complete the 'feeling good circle'."
She said stifling a laugh.
"You're such a bitch. You know that,
right?"
"I do. Your favorite one, that is."
Jenna turned to hug me.
"But seriously though, it's time for you to
experience an orgasm, that is not battery operated; at least once before you
hit twenty-two.”
She turned quickly and scooted down the stairs
without giving me the chance to answer her.
I wasn't repulsed by the idea; a man or a
vibrator. All the sex stuff was the reason my first real relationship went
south. I wasn't ready and it'd cost me so much, my dignity mostly. It was the
sole reason I'd avoided men for the past five or six months and embraced my
celibacy for the time being.
We decided on
'The Empire Hotel'
rooftop for the drinks.
Jenna hadn't been the cliché I thought she would be. She got into her classes
and continued working online, which meant, a lot less sightseeing than
expected. We thought we'd hit two birds with one stone.
Jude had cultivated all the right relationships
to get us into almost any club in town after all the rejection we'd encountered
when we'd first moved in. It didn't hurt either when Ryan started appearing on
some VIP listings after his first successful show.
We made our way to the rooftop lounge for the
view and the scenery. One of the signs of living in this city for too long was
when you stopped caring about which days to go out. Therefore, Monday night
jazz was crowded with some fancy people. We found Mia and Faith flirting with a
bartender. They were probably planning to have him as their hangover cure.
The atmosphere was incredible. It was a good
night for celebration. I loved the setting of the place. It was a penthouse;
very sophisticated, and comfortable. Some people were either standing or sitting
by the bar, other groups were set up like us on tables and sofas, dancing,
chatting or flirting soothed by the music and smooth lightning.
I had a chance to catch up further with Jude and
Maria. Jenna was already too busy flirting with some guy, ready to eat him
alive.

Poor guy...
We'd been in the club for more than an hour. We
were all a little drunk and we capitulated with two rounds of tequila shots. I
danced and laughed until I started to feel a little dizzy. I felt like someone
was watching me and blamed it on the dress or alcohol paranoia. I wasn't in the
mood for meeting guys. In fact, I rejected two perfect gentlemen already, so I
guess I chose vibrator for the night.
I laughed at my private joke and excused myself
to go get some air on the terrace.
Jude followed me but I asked him not to worry.
I stood for a little while with a bottle of
water to refrain my drunken dizziness. I admired the view and breathed the
fresh air until I started getting cold instead of inebriated. I rocked my
platforms and turned to head back inside. I noticed a shadow walking my way and
grinned.
"You worry too much. Did you save a dance
for your true better-half?" I froze once the city lights illuminated
Jude's features.
Except; it wasn't Jude. I recognized those
beautiful features; magnetic and graceful, the familiar gaze. It was hot, dark,
and heavy.
No... That is simply
impossible!

Six days earlier

"Come
on! We did that already, more than enough!”

“There
won't be any new painting you know that." Jenna was bargaining for a
Sunday picnic with some of her friends. I had only one night left before we
would pack and head back to New York.

I
wanted to spend my day visiting some of my favorite spots in Paris, which meant
lunch at Sybille’s bistro in Montmartre, a walk down La Scène, a coffee in
front of Notre Dame before one last tour at Le Louvre. I won't be able to come
back for a long time. In fact, I'd be lucky to afford a train ride to Yonkers
when I'll be back in Manhattan.

I went
through all my savings traveling back and forth. Even though my mother had a
blast paying for all my shopping and gave me a check to help once I was back
home. I wasn't going to waste another penny. I went crazy with the parties over
the summer, and Europe wasn't all-that cheap.

I was
done until I could find a job, so I wanted to make the most of my last day.

"I
don't mind spending the day on my own; in fact I'd rather have some time-off
your craziness." I laughed at my best friend's glare and the un-ladylike
middle finger she threw my way.

"So
you go say your goodbyes and we can meet at the CAB for our last Parisian party
with Lilo and Micah tonight."

I
continued hoping she'd let go of her inquisition.

"Tu es chiante. Tu le sais ça?"
Jenna scoffed at me, making a point of telling
me how annoying I could be before rocking on her rounded snickers heels and
turning to the door.

"Je sais. Mais tu m'aime quand même!"
I yelled after her.

"Yes
I love you, you stubborn-best-friend of mine. Call me if you change your
mind." She finished before slamming the front door.

It'd
been close to five months since that awful night. I couldn't believe I was
falling for such a manipulative bastard. He'd managed to hide the truth from me
for several months and I was going to offer myself to him to prove how much I'd
loved him.

I'd
diminished myself to a stupid cliché; Caden was  my speech writing
professor when I was in sophomore year. I used to admire him from afar like
most girls in my class. I never missed his class that year, but I barely spoke
during it. He was so passionate during the sessions. I'd never witnessed
anything like it before. He made us laugh with jokes and fun facts about
political speeches in history. Sometimes he even made us emotional when reading
a particular speech and called them a lesson of greatness for the world
history.

It was
only during my last year that I had him as a professor again. He still was the
same intense looking professor. You'd get interested in whatever he's teaching in
a blink of an eye. Some students transferred to be in his class. He was one of
those professors that would've made you want to become a teacher even if it was
the last thing you'd consider. It was awe-inspiring, add to all that, lots of
charm, beautiful blue eyes with a hot and elusive gaze, a sophisticated
Abercrombie,
and Fitch
look, and it would be your basic college girl fantasy coming to
life.

He'd
said that he noticed me way before I'd applied for the teaching assistant
position. He used to talk about how expressive my eyes were. Becoming his TA
had launched us into an endless spiral of flirtatious conversations and
overwhelming private gazes during work hours and classes. He charmed me with
words, poems, and hot glances. I'd fought it over with my conscious. We had a
no-fraternization policy.

We
still started seeing each other when I'd started spending more time with him
debating a graduate program for the following year. Our relationship consisted
of long kisses, hot dates around the city and long work nights until I'd
started giving in to the pressure of having sex.

It was
stupid. I should've gone with my gut. I should've known I wasn't ready; not
because I was saving myself for marriage, but rather because, deep down I'd
known he wasn't right for me. When I discovered he was hiding a secret, at the
most critical time, it'd destroyed me.

In less
than two days, I was going to be back home after my improvised sabbatical,
feeling new and dignified again. It wasn't easy; in fact, it was far from it. I
was lucky I had my friends and my mom and Nana. They all stood by me and
hopefully, I'll get one of the jobs I'd applied to give a positive start to the
New Year.

After a
delicious authentic Niçoise salad at the oldest bistro in Montmartre, I walked around
the city. Paris had the same vibe you'd find in New York. Just as touristy,
with more buzz around its sightseeing sites. It was smaller. Admittedly, the
skyline was nothing like New York. Paris remained authentic to its old
architectural style. When standing on a rooftop, the Eiffel would stand
glorious by itself. That's what I loved about it, no matter how modern and
contemporary it'd gotten, the oldest neighborhoods were still the most
authentic ones and much more expensive.

I
walked for as long as I could before my feet started killing me. I hailed a
taxi and rode to Notre Dame with my coffee and my music. I walked the stairs
with heels and coffee in hand, took my tour and turned back outside to enjoy
the scenery of the last day of a summer afternoon.

The
place was crowded; people were enjoying the light breeze under the shades of
the cathedral. I loved it there, tourists, natives, non-natives. It attracted
all kinds of people; they'd take a tour or just sit and have coffee or lunch on
the marches. At all times, people would be mingling, laughing, eating or
singing along with a trumpet or harmonica player that would stand out among the
pot. After I finished my coffee, I pushed to my naked feet, walked some steps
down and turned back to snap some pictures. I smiled cherishing the memory
until the next time and turned back to head to my next destination.

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 wouldn’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’, ‘ah’, 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 encountered 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 perfect
French.

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

When I
finally managed to retrieve 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 as
if 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 sûr?"
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 as if 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 an 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? Had he just propositioned 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 - those 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.