Full Disclosure (No Secrets Book 1)

by Julie Olsen

  CHAPTER 9

  He removed the condom and tied it off, then, plucking a tissue from the box on the side table, wrapped it up neatly and fisted it from view. He smiled down at me, eyes twinkling. “I will never forget how you look right now, all gorgeous and naked and sexy as hell.”

  My self-preservation snapped-to immediately, and I cringed at the sight I must have made, swiftly closing my gaping thighs.

  He chuckled and held his hands out. Blushing, I took his proffered hands and he pulled me up and straight into his arms. His chest tickled my nipples and they hardened. It was so good, being in his arms, his skin against mine. “Never be shy with me, Olivia. I want to get to know every single inch of you. Intimately.”

  “Um.”

  He chuckled again and we stood holding each other, our surroundings coming back into focus. I was naked and Damien’s pants were around his ankles and we are standing in my living room. And we had just had mind-blowing sex!

  “I didn’t hurt you, did I? You’re okay?”

  I swallowed. “I’m fine. Better than fine, actually.” I blushed again. Why was I so shy with him after everything that we had just done?

  “Yes, you most certainly are,” he growled, and I knew he was referring to something else entirely. His cock twitched against my stomach. God, the man was a machine.

  “You feel incredible,” he said against my hair, pressing a lingering kiss and then releasing me. “I hope to do that again very soon, but I have been egregiously remiss in my responsibilities as your escort tonight, and if I don’t move away from your enticing body, we may miss dinner altogether.” He gazed down at me in wonder, and I was surprised when warmth flooded a part of my body that should be in a comfortable, sated hibernation.

  “Wouldn’t I have to agree to that?” I tried my hand at nonchalance even though my chest was heaving, my heart racing.

  “Yes. Are you saying no?”

  “I’m saying I don’t usually sleep with someone on the first date, and we should back off and go slow.”

  He looked down upon my naked body. “It’s a little late for slow, don’t you think?”

  My face flushed. “Um.”

  He bent and pulled his pants up, his mouth stretching into a wide grin. “How about this? I’ll keep my hands to myself if you keep yours to yourself. A challenge, of sorts.” He bit his lip provocatively, his eyes alight with mischief, as he went about the business of tucking himself in and buttoning up. I noticed he placed the folded tissue in his pants pocket.

  I raised my brows and moved away, gathering my clothes and hyperaware of my nakedness. I could really use a shower, and then my mind filled with images of my hands sliding against his magnificent, soapy body…‌No! I must concentrate on other things. World peace, for instance.

  “I should warn you, I usually win all challenges. The more physical, the better,” I said tartly, looking up to find him watching me as he shrugged his jacket on. He was already dressed, and I was still butt naked, my clothes bunched against my chest.

  He gazed at me undeterred. “As you are so sure of yourself, it would be ungallant of me not to accept your challenge. But what are we wagering? Hmm?” He stroked his index finger against his bottom lip, deep in thought, then without warning he plunged his finger in his mouth and sucked on it, grinning wickedly.

  He did not just do that!

  He stopped suddenly and smiled. “Two points, Olivia: One, just to be clear, you have issued a challenge that you won’t be agreeable to more of what we just participated in, at an unknown time in the very near future. Is that right?”

  I stood before him, my clothes clutched in such a way as to partially hide my nakedness. Did I say that? I guess I did, in a fashion. I hadn’t meant it as a bet, but if he wanted to take me on, he would be sorry. I narrowed my eyes. “That sounds about right.”

  “All right. I will bet that by the end of the night, you will come to eat those words.” He lowered his voice, eyes moving over my naked body. “Amongst other things.”

  I gaped at him. He was so presumptuous and arrogant. If he thought he would win a contest‌—‌a sex contest‌—‌against me, he had another thing coming. I had just had three mind-blowing orgasms. Three! That should hold me for a long, long time. I almost laughed as I considered how preposterous this contest was.

  “You’re on, tough guy.” I glanced toward the stairs, intending to make a getaway to my room to dress in private.

  “The wager is to be determined and at the winner’s discretion.”

  I raise a brow. “Fine. I don’t lose bets, Damien.”

  “And two,” he said, advancing squarely toward me. “I undressed you, and now I will re-dress you.”

  The color drained from my face. I took a step back but it was no use. He had cornered me and from the look on his face, he was completely serious.

  “I am perfectly capable of dressing myself, thank you.”

  He smiled his half-smile. “But where’s the fun in that?” He brushed a stray tendril and tucked it behind my ear. His touch sent delicious tingles racing through me, and I struggled to concentrate.

  “Damien, no.”

  “Olivia, yes.” He arched a brow and reached for my bundle of clothes, the makeshift shield which hid me from his discerning eyes. He grasped my boots and pulled them away, one at a time, followed by my bra and panties. My foot began to tap.

  “You. Are. Not. Dressing. Me.” I said forcefully. This was ridiculous.

  He pulled on my dress, his hand holding it in a vicelike grip. He smiled slyly, daring me to defy him. “Let go, or this beautiful dress will suffer the consequences.”

  “You wouldn’t.” My foot tapped faster.

  “Oh, I would.” He pulled harder. “Don’t you want me to touch you, Olivia?”

  A shiver rolled through me, and I felt the first stirrings of arousal. “No.”

  He made a tut-tut sound. “Truth, Olivia. Always the truth between us.” He pulled harder on the dress, drawing me flush against him with only the dress between us. I couldn’t help it. I nuzzled into his hard chest and breathed in his scent, that heavenly male musk and the faint smell of sweat and sex. It was so good. I dropped the dress, pressing my body into his, my arms clasping him tightly against me.

  He released his hold on the dress and it fell to the ground. His hand tipped my chin up and he kissed me softly. “In the interest of full disclosure.” He drew my hand down and pressed it against his growing erection. “This is my truth.”

  I stopped breathing. My head spun with erotic thoughts, pictures of me on my knees, his cock in my mouth, down my throat. What the hell was wrong with me? I pushed away, mindful that I tended to completely lose control when in close proximity. I needed distance. And clothes!

  I took a deep breath. “All right, yes. Yes, Damien, I want you to touch me. But seeing as we’re in this challenge, ridiculous as it is, that won’t be‌—‌”

  “Baby,” he breathed. “I just want to dress you and take you to dinner.” He bent and picked up my bra, his eyes never leaving mine. His eyes sparkled as he looked at me, enticing me with my bra.

  I rolled my eyes and held my arms out. Inserting my arms through the straps, he gently adjusted my breasts one at a time, then moved behind me to fasten it. At his touch my nipples stood to attention, and I plummeted into further humiliation.

  Damien gave his full attention to the task at hand, avoiding my eyes‌—‌thank God‌—‌and giving no indication that dressing me affected him in any way. I risked a look at the front of his jeans, but the dark denim coupled with the darkness of the room gave away nothing. He knelt with my panties, and I stepped into them quickly, his head dangerously close to my sex.

  He moved my panties up over my legs and settled them in place, his hands barely touching my skin. This was pure torture, his fingers grazing against my legs, my butt. His nearness was almost unbearable, and still he gave nothing away. Maybe it really was one and done.


  He stood with my dress, finally looking at me through his lashes, his eyes darkest night. Smoldering. Ah ha! I held my arms up and he slipped the dress over me, tugging gently so it fell perfectly down my body. I wanted to shimmy, make him crazy like he was making me, and I bit my lip at the thought.

  “What are you grinning about, Ms. St. Clair?”

  He was at my feet again, sliding my boots on and zipping them up. I steadied myself by grasping his shoulders and oh-so-gently tracing little circles against his neck with my thumbs. His shoulders stiffened, and I relished a little thrill of victory, however slight. I was a quick learner.

  “Where are you taking me?” I switched topics, suppressing my smirk.

  He finished zipping my second boot and rose, his Mona Lisa smile in place. Reaching into his jacket pocket, he took out his phone and made a call.

  “This is Damien Stone. I’m afraid I have been detained and cannot make my eight o’clock reservation. Is it possible to change it to eight thirty? He watched me as he spoke. I moved to the mirror on the wall in the foyer and checked my appearance, expecting to see my hair and makeup in an uproar but finding it presentable considering the amazingly hot sex that had transpired over the last hour.

  “Very good. Thank you.” He ended the call and pocketed the phone to turn his full attention to me. “A little place I know. Excellent food, of course. I know the chef personally.”

  “Sounds lovely.”

  He shrugged, his gaze accessing me. The air between us thick and charged. “I don’t know about you, but I have worked up an appetite.”

  That connection flared, like a live wire drawing me to him, making me want to walk into his arms and forget about dinner. Again.

  “Me too,” I whispered, and my breathing quickened. My eyes flew to his, needing to see the same simmering desire. His eyes were smoky, hooded…‌and he was grinning wickedly.

  The bet! I gritted my teeth, taking a deep breath and blowing it out my nose. I smiled innocently, attempting to salvage my momentary weakness.

  He took my hand. “Come with me.” His smile faded, replaced immediately by that delicious smolder.

  He led me to the stairs, drawing me after him.

  He looked behind at me. “We have to hurry. We don’t have much time.”

  Yes! I wanted to jump for joy. That was easy. Too easy. I knew I would win the bet, but his sudden capitulation still surprised me. But hey, I had won, and now we were going upstairs for more sex. Which I would decline, of course, until he admitted to losing the bet, and then…‌Who needed dinner when I could feast on the delicious Damien Stone?

  Out of nowhere a voice in my head taunted, a know-it-all goody-two-shoes. Maybe she was right. Maybe I should play hard to get?

  At the top of the stairs he turned and faced me, all smoky eyes and parted lips, and I couldn’t help the wide smile that broke over my face.

  He tightened his fingers, rubbing my skin with his thumbs as he dragged me along. I struggled to keep up.

  He flipped the hall light as he passed, not slowing his haste and glancing in each open doorway. He was on a mission. An impatient, insatiable mission.

  At the bathroom he stopped, reaching around the door to hit the light switch. “Ah, here we are.”

  He pulled me inside, letting go of my hand and grabbing a towel from the corner shelf as if he had been here before. “If you need to, now’s the time to attend to yourself.” He turned on the faucet at the sink and began washing his hands, catching my eye in the mirror. His raised brow and accompanying smirk were like a bucket of cold water.

  I, Olivia So-Sure-Of-Myself St. Clair, had been outplayed before the night had even begun.

  I swallowed, mentally chastising myself as he continued to wash up, his eyes sparkling. Narrowing my own eyes, I picked up my brush and ran it through my hair, refusing to meet his gloating stare.

  He washed and dried his face. Ignoring him, I redid my lip stain, puckering and preening to my heart’s content. His hot gaze was on me and, recovered sufficiently, I met it.

  “Shame. I would have preferred to keep you on me forever.” His voice was low, soft. “Where you belong.”

  My eyes widened marginally as a flush crept across my face. Having him in here, this small space, so close to me, his eyes burning through me, the suggestive, seductive words he uttered…‌It was so intimate.

  “Ready?” He held out his hand and I took it, of course, raising my eyes to his and finding all traces of smugness erased. God, he was gorgeous. I sighed and nodded, smiling. I would concede this round. But fair warning, Damien: I don’t go down easily.

  * * *

  We drove twenty minutes across the city to a small, neighborhood place tucked into one of the more historic parts of town. Mirabella’s was housed in a turn-of-the-century storefront, with an unassuming entrance nestled within the red brick façade. Inside it was all dark wood floors, brick walls and white linen tablecloths. The restaurant was busy, yet we were seated immediately in a darkened corner.

  “The perks of knowing the owner,” he said.

  The waiter presented us with our menus and glasses of water, explaining the dishes of the day. Damien ordered the lamb while I chose the salmon.

  “Wine?” he asked.

  “Please.”

  “A bottle of the 2010 Sangiovese, please.”

  I always paid my own way, but this place struck me as a little out of my price range, so I quickly scanned the wine list. I located the bottle he had just ordered. One hundred and twenty dollars! I didn’t want to go into debt over one meal, but at this point I really had no choice but to acquiesce.

  On the way over we had remained largely silent, lost in our own thoughts. I had been looking forward to learning more about him, as up to this point he had told me precious little about himself. And now that I had him right in front of me, out in public for the first time, my urgent need for information momentarily dried up. My eyes roved leisurely over him, burning an impression on my brain. I felt so at peace in his presence.

  Damien caught my eye and smiled wickedly. “I’d give anything to know what’s going through that pretty head of yours.”

  I took a deep breath and smiled sweetly. “I usually go Dutch.”

  He tensed but his smile didn’t falter. “That’s admirable, but absolutely not.”

  I sighed. I had a feeling he would refuse. He was probably one of those men who insisted on paying for everything. I chewed my lip. Perhaps this was as good a time as any to bring up the subject of the bike.

  “Damien.” He narrowed his eyes, accessing. “The bike. It’s too much.”

  “Not to me, it isn’t.”

  “Do you still have my old one?”

  “Paul disposed of it. It couldn’t be fixed.”

  “I could have gotten myself a new bike. I didn’t need you to buy one for me.”

  He arched a brow. “I am aware of that.” He paused and leaned against the chair back, folding his legs and adjusting his napkin in his lap. “Do you find it difficult to accept gifts, Olivia?”

  I squared my shoulders and looked him straight in the eye. “When they cost more than I make in six months, yes.”

  “So this is about the price of the gift, not the gift itself?”

  The waiter returned with our wine and poured two glasses. I took a sip, finding it fabulous. Of course it was, given the price. Twirling the stem in my hand, I answered.

  “Well, yes, I suppose. But I still don’t understand why you did that. We hardly knew one another.”

  “I knew you well enough. As for the money, you shouldn’t concern yourself.”

  “Meaning what, exactly?”

  “Meaning,” he murmurs, “I can afford it.”

  “But…”

  “Suffice it to say, if you’re going to ride, I want you riding the safest bike money can buy. Having said that,” he paused for emphasis, “I want your word you won’t pull a stunt like that aga
in.”

  “I beg your pardon?” Was he telling me I couldn’t ride the expensive bike he had given me?

  “There are plenty of bike paths to choose from in the area. It is simply too dangerous to ride in city traffic. And I don’t want you to do it again.”

  I sat in my seat, fuming. Nobody told me what I could and could not do. Even if he is absolutely yummy and gave you three amazing orgasms not two hours ago.

  “You like to give orders, don’t you?”

  “I do.” He smiled, though his eyes remained steely and focused.

  “I suppose you’re used to people following them?”

  “I am.”

  “Why is that?”

  He shrugged. “Call it part of the package.”

  I stared at the gorgeous man in front of me. He appeared implacable as he gazed back, his gorgeous brown hair haphazard, his eyes determined and calculating. I suddenly felt too far away from him. I wanted to crawl into his lap, run my fingers through his soft hair, feel his hands on me, his lips against mine…

  I took a sip. “First of all, Damien, I don’t take orders well, especially coming from someone I barely know. Secondly, I normally wouldn’t ride in heavy traffic but I had car trouble that day.”

  “You won’t do that again.” He spoke concisely with an air of finality, which left me little wiggle room. This was Damien in Ultimate Control Freak Mode. I wasn’t sure I liked this side of him.

  I stared at him petulantly. “Afraid I’ll need rescuing again? Don’t worry, I am a grown woman and can take care of myself, thank you very much.”

  “Olivia, nothing would give me greater pleasure than to be at your side, watching over you 24/7. But that’s not realistic. So I’m asking for your word, your promise that you won’t pull another dangerous stunt like riding in city traffic during rush hour. I can’t have you putting yourself at risk. It’s…‌a thing I have. I need to know you’re safe at all times.”

  My frosty pique dissolved. “Why?”