Undisclosed Desire: An Alpha Billionaire Romance: + bonus novel (27 page)

"Not exactly," she whispers. "The thing is... I have ideas. Ideas for little things that solve everyday problems in life. Solutions that you can carry with you."

"Like smartphones."

She nods eagerly. "Yes! Smartphones! Apps!"

"Everyone wants to do apps these days," I argue.

"Maybe," she says. "But there's a reason why everyone wants to do them. Because they're what people are asking for. We use our phones more and more for every little thing in life. Apps are so widely used, it's no surprise that everyone wants to hop on that market."

"I'll give you that," I agree.

The sparkle in her eyes is undeniable. She shifts around in the chair, displaying a very different picture than the tensed up creature I encountered on my first day here.

"Also, the people who want to make apps are always the same," she continues. "They're programmers. Unlike me, they know how to actually build an app, but they live in a specific environment that serves them with a particular input, and they, you know..."

"They're geeks," I complete her sentence. "Trust me, I know. I'm one of them."

"That's not necessarily a bad thing," she says, as if she had to console me.

I glare at her. "Of course it's not."

She sucks in air and blushes, her eyes widening. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Let me tell you something," I say. "What you're saying doesn't sound stupid to me."

"Well, thanks," she interjects in a snappy tone.

"Is there anything more specific about your idea you could tell me about right now?" I want to know.

She lowers her eyes and starts chewing her lower lip. Her eyelashes resume their frantic flickering.

"Not really I just-"

"Then I don't want to hear about it," I interrupt. "You've taken enough Econ classes to know how to work out a good business plan. And you're a student in my class, which is all about entrepreneurship and coming up with your own successful start-up. You have enough tools for now to present me with a well thought out business plan for one of your ideas. And we'll see where we can go from there."

She raises her eyes up to mine, wide blue marbles looking at me with dainty bewilderment.

"What do you mean by th-"

"Just do what I told you to do," I hiss.

She furls her eyebrows, but doesn't immediately talk back.

"Okay," she murmurs.

I examine her for a few moments, watching as her eyelashes calm down and she stops fiddling with the giant black ring on her finger. Her shoulders drop, but her head remains high, her eyes nervously traveling between me, the desk and her lap.

This is the perfect moment to find out.

"Why did you want to meet me here?"

LANA

His powerful gaze is on me, watching me closer than anyone has ever watched me before. The light gray shirt he is wearing today tightens around his muscular arms when he leans forward, placing his elbows on the desk. He interlace his hands and locks me in place with his fierce eyes.

"What? I just... I just told you why I-"

"That's not what I mean," he interrupts, His voice is calm, but domineering. "Why did you want to meet
in here
?"

We stare at each other and I hope to God that he can't see the heat rushing to my cheeks. But of course he can. I'm so pale, the slightest hint of embarrassment - just as the smallest drop of alcohol - paints my cheeks in a telltale pink color that is obvious to anyone with functioning eyes.

"Convenience," I lie. "We're both on campus and-"

"There are plenty of coffee places around here," he says. "We could have gone to the one you suggested the last time we talked. Is it because you don't want to be seen with me in public?"

I huff. "What? No! Absolutely not. Why would I... I mean, there's no reason why I wouldn't-"

"Exactly, there isn't," he says, interrupting me once again. "That's why I'm wondering. Is it because you wanted to be alone with me?"

Oh, God.

Seriously. What did I expect to happen? I asked for this. The suggestion to meet in his office just poured out of me when he asked where we should meet. I thought it would be inconspicuous, an innocent way of asking to be alone with him.

I wanted his input on my thoughts - but I also wanted to see where our conversation would go if we were confined in his small office again. Just the two of us.

I want to see where this is going. But I don't dare to be honest about my curiosity.

"Let's do it this way," he continues, still keeping me in a tight grip with just his eyes. "I'll throw out a few of the presumptions I'm having about your intentions here, and you can tell me whether I'm right or wrong by nodding or shaking your head."

I gulp. God, he's good.

"Nod if you understand," he adds.

I do as I'm told.

He gets up from his chair and slowly walks around the desk. With every step that brings him closer to me, I can feel my heart leaping like a wild stag in my throat.

Mr. Portland sits down at the edge of the table right in front of me, forcing me to tilt my head back to look up at him.

"You're curious about something," he whispers. "You noticed the way I look at you and it does something to you."

I nod.

His eyes flicker, just for a brief moment.

"You'd like to know what it would feel like to be touched by me."

His face is about two feet away from mine. I wonder if he can feel, not only see, but actually feel the heat of embarrassment that his words send through my veins.

I'm shivering at the thought of being touched by him, and I'm surprised to realize that I've never fantasized about his lips until now. I was so occupied with his eyes, his physique, his demeanor, that I never paid much attention to his lips, even though they're just as gorgeous as this man is as a whole. His strong jaw is dappled with dark stubble, giving him a very masculine look, while his lips are full and soft. There's nothing rugged about their light pink flesh, and they stand out among his virile features.

I nod.

"I've told you before, Miss Harlington-"

"Lana," I interrupt him. "Please call me Lana."

The corner of his mouth hikes up. "Okay, Lana. I'll still be Mr. Portland for you. For now."

I nod, flustered about my interjection.

"What I was going to say," he resumes. "I like you. I told you in a different context, but it's true that I like a challenge. I thought you might pose such a challenge, but you have surprised me quite a bit lately."

I raise my eyebrows in question. "Surprised you?"

He nods. "Yes, you have."

"How have I-"

"It doesn't matter right now," he cuts me off. "What does matter is my interest in you - and your interest in me."

He pauses and regards me with a mischievous smile. "You look fucking delicious today, Lana. I want to believe that it's no coincidence that I get to see you looking like this and that you’re visiting me in my office today."

I gulp and lower my eyes, tying to hide another flush of reddening heat from his eyes.

"Look at me," he commands.

The sharp tone of his voice sends an electric bolt through my spine. My chin rises seemingly of its own accord and I look up at him from beneath my thick lashes.

"Good girl."

He smiles at me and hooks a finger beneath my chin, lifting it up a little more so our eyes lock on to each other. He looks pleased.

Good girl
.

When was the last time someone called me that? Why does it make my heart jump like this?

I can barely breathe.

"Do you look so pretty because of me?" He asks, still with that contented smile on his face.

I don't like to admit that I made an effort to catch his eyes today. But I did. It was not a conscious choice, I just happened to add a little extra makeup for today, and I changed into the blouse he saw on me the last time I was in here. Of course, I didn't do that without any ulterior motives.

I nod.

"I'm pleased to hear that," he says. "Even though you're making things a lot harder for me by looking this tasty."

Tasty. Delicious. He's describing me like an elaborate meal.

And I kinda like it. It's not like I get this sort of attention a lot. I've never been the pretty girl who gets all the attention of the boys in school, wanted or not. I'm the smart girl, the plain and dutiful student, the good girl.

Even now, I feel the urge to apologize, because he said that I'm making things hard for him. But I realize just in time how silly that would be.

"Do you know what's the most endearing thing about you, for me?" He asks.

I shake my head without losing eye contact for even a second.

"The fact that you have no idea about how much trouble you are in," he explains.

Trouble? What kind of trouble could he be talking about?

"Because you're my teacher?" I assume.

He shakes his head.

"Yes, I'm your teacher and intimate relations between students and faculty are strictly forbidden," he says. "Or so I've heard. However, I'm not fazed by that. After all, I'm not a real professor, as you've pointed out so many times."

I blush as he reminds me of my earlier impudence.

"Still, I would suggest we keep this between ourselves," he adds. "For your sake and for mine. We both have a reputation to lose."

"Yes," I agree immediately. "Absolutely, I don't want to-"

"You don't have to worry," he cuts me off. I noticed that the tone of my voice has gone back to that know-it-all manner he must hate so much.

"Let's not get side tracked by technicalities," he says. "They're nothing but distractions."

"And spice," I say, surprised at myself.

"Spice?"

A cunning smirk appears on his face.

"You like this, huh?" He asks, glancing down at me with an impish smile. "Get up."

I hesitate, my eyes locked on his while my pulse accelerates.

"Wh-"

"Get up!" He barks - and I jump up onto my feet instantly.

"That's the first thing you'll have to learn," he whispers, taking my chin between his thumb and index finger. He gently moves my face up to his, leaning in so close that I can feel his breath on the skin above my lips. "When I tell you to do something, you'll do it. You'll obey."

I furl my eyebrows, trying to ignore the racing heart behind my rib cage. It's so loud, I'm sure he must hear it.

"Why should I-"

"To please me," he says. "You'll obey me to please me - and you'll receive pleasure in return."

He stands up and leans in closer, his dark eyes fixating on mine with severe intensity, leaving me nowhere to go. His lips are so close to mine, but not yet touching. If I moved even the slightest bit, we'd meet for a kiss. An urge to lean up to him travels through my core, but I resist. I'm frozen in his gentle touch, anticipating his next move.

"You're a good girl, aren't you," he breathes. "You like to please, don't you?"

I don't know what to reply to that. Is he seriously asking me? Does he even expect an answer?

Good girl
.

The words are resonating through my entire body, making my fingers tingle and my core throb with desire. I'm so stunned by my body's reaction that my mind can barely keep up. I've never been dumbfounded before, but this must be what it's like. This is what it feels like to be utterly lost for words, mesmerized by a man who can make me buzz with excitement without even touching me.

"You're such a good girl, ready to break the rules to become my good girl," he adds, looking at me with a loving smile. "May I get a taste of you?"

I stare up at him, lack of understanding written all over my face.

"May I kiss you?" He clarifies, visibly amused at my bewilderment.

Instead of saying anything, I decide to get up on my toes, eliminating that tiny distance between our lips by leaning forward.

He welcomes me with a contented moan, letting go of my chin to place his hand at the back of my head instead, pulling me in closer. While my approach for the kiss was shy and careful, he exercises no such caution. His kiss is soon asking for more, domineering lips forcing mine open. His breathless hunger for me is so enticing, I soon find myself panting with the same desire while our tongues intertwine hungrily.

His taste is just as enchanting as his smell. I'm breathing heavily, yearning to inhale as much as possible of him.

I feel his hand clenching into a fist, grabbing the hair at the back of my head and pulling me back. A faint gasp of disappointment escapes my lips as they part from his, and I look up at him, pleading for more.

His eyes are wide with wonder.

"Fuck, you're...," he utters.

He stops, staring at me with that same bewildered expression.

Is something wrong? Did he just decide that this is a bad idea after all? Did I do something wrong? Was I too easy?

"What's-"

"Nothing," he interrupts. "Do you want this?"

I nod.

"Are you sure?"

I smirk at him. "It's a bit late to back out now, isn't it?"

He narrows his eyes, looking at me with a serious face as he shakes his head.

"No, it's never too late for that, Lana," he whispers. "Remember that. It's never too late to say no - to anything I want to do to you."

His words scare me. What the hell is he talking about?

"Have you ever been dominated?" He seriously wants to know.

My eyes rest on his, trying to read the meaning behind his words.

"I don't know," I utter.

He raises his left eyebrow. "You'd know if you had. Believe me."

"Okay," I breathe, still not entirely sure what he's aiming at.

"I'll show you," he says, as if he's reading my mind. "I think you'll like it. It radiates from your entire being."

"What does?"

"The need for what I'm about to give to you," he explains. "I'm rarely mistaken with these things. But in order to make sure this is to result in both of our pleasure, we'll have to agree on a safe word."

"A safe word?"

"Yes." He nods, leaning forward to plant a soft kiss on my lips. "A word that will stop everything immediately. No or stop won't work. You'll scream those out anyway-"

"What?" I cut him off. "What are you going to-"

"Hush," he says, putting his index finger on my lips to stop me from talking. "I won't do anything you won't like. I'll never hurt you unless you ask for it."

Hurt me? Why would I ask him to hurt me?

I think I'm starting to understand where this is going.

"You're a sadist?" I ask, while his finger is still on my lips.

He moves his finger away, caressing my cheek as he tucks a strand of hair behind my hair.

"Some people like to call it that," he says. "But I don't get off on simply hurting you. It's more than that. It's different."

"What do you get off on?"

My heart is still doing somersaults, the rate accelerating with every word that comes from his beautiful lips. His touch feels so weirdly familiar, so intimate and stimulating. When he looks at me, it feels as if he's looking right into my soul, uncovering my deepest secrets and desires. Cravings that I wasn't even aware of myself.

"Control," he says. "And intimacy. You'll show me things that no one has seen before. Sides of you that no one, maybe not even yourself, knew existed."