Full Disclosure (No Secrets Book 1)

by Julie Olsen

  “And you would know this because you’re so tight?” I hardly recognized my scathing tone.

  He gave me a level look. “I told you, we’re old friends.”

  I pounced. “She thinks of you as more than a friend.”

  “Olivia,” he said evenly. “Either you believe me, or you don’t. Which is it?”

  I stared at him, his gorgeous face with that dark, silky hair. My chest heaved in agitation. What was it about him that got me so riled up? I wanted to fuck his brains out one minute, and slap his face the next. And did I have a right to feel angry? I had known him for about two minutes. Why should I care if he brought me to a restaurant owned by a woman who clearly wanted him?

  “I’m waiting,” he said darkly.

  Did I believe him? I whirled through all my various interactions with him. He had never betrayed my trust. He had rescued me, for God’s sake! And now he was trying to find out who hit me. Did it really matter that he withheld that little tidbit? My instincts told me he was telling the truth. But could he actually be so blind not to see how Bella felt about him?

  I connected my eyes with his. “I believe you.”

  A wall fell away and behind his penetrating stare I thought I could see relief. He smiled and beckoned the waiter, extracting his credit card from his wallet and handing it to him.

  “Good answer, Olivia. We’re leaving now.”

  Damn it. Why did I act so pissy? I didn’t want the night to end like this.

  The waiter returned with Damien’s card and the receipt. Damien stood and I followed. He moved smoothly around to my chair, pulling it back farther and helping me into my wrap. Sidestepping the glaring tray of cakes and melting ice cream, we exited the restaurant, his hand gently at my elbow, and within three minutes we were firmly ensconced within the plush Porsche. On the radio, P!nk was extolling the virtues of trying. Someone was bound to get burned, all right.

  Me.

  * * *

  Damien steered the SUV toward I-64. Like everything else, he didn’t drive the car so much as bend it to his will. He glanced at me furtively, assessing my mood. I was exhausted. Dealing with Damien was like riding on an emotional rollercoaster. I was not used to the highs and lows of knowing this man. I wondered if that would change over time, the highs slowly taking the place of the lows as we came to know one another.

  “Damien?” My voice sounded small and frail. “I’d feel more comfortable if you’d let me pay half of the bill.”

  He scoffed. “No.”

  His tone intimidated me, and I had to gather myself to look at him.

  “I always pay my way, that’s all.”

  “Not with me, you don’t.” He spoke with an air of finality.

  I sat and chewed my lip, plotting my next move.

  “It’s not up for debate, Olivia,” he cautioned. “Just accept that when you’re with me, I pay. End of story.”

  Okay, was this what Justine would call, an alpha male thing? I rolled my eyes at his caveman philosophy. Maybe I just needed to face the cold truth: Dating was not my thing. Because that was what this was, a date. Even though it felt like more, I couldn’t succumb to Damien’s way of thinking, because in truth this was nothing more than a date. He probably did this all the time, and I was just one of many. My heart sank.

  “I’m sorry,” I whispered.

  “You have nothing to be sorry for. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

  “I’m just not used to this…‌intensity.”

  “You and me both, baby.” He shot me his shy smile. “I am sorry. Please forgive me?”

  I nodded. He was hard to stay mad at.

  He sighed deeply and returned his eyes to the road. “I didn’t think things through. I understand why you were angry. Shit, that night I wanted to tear James’s head off.” He smiled wryly.

  “You what?”

  He had the decency to look embarrassed. “When I saw you at Paramour. Jesus, Olivia, you had your arm around him and he was touching you. I nearly snapped.”

  I looked at him incredulously. “But he’s Lucy’s boyfriend.”

  “He’s a man.” He leveled his eyes at me. “And at the time, I was unaware of his status. All I knew was if he didn’t get his hands off you, I was going to remove them. Permanently.”

  I stared at him, my mind reeling with this new information. “You were jealous? Of James?” I was shocked, but a part of me was secretly thrilled, and I couldn’t prevent my mouth from stretching into a wide grin.

  He raised an eyebrow and his eyes pivoted toward me. “You were too.”

  “I was too what?” My grin slowly evaporated.

  “Jealous. Of Bella.”

  And now I was back to incredulous. “Me? Jealous? Of that woman?”

  He said nothing but bit his lip as if holding back a smile. I crossed my arms over my chest and stared straight ahead.

  “Oh, come on,” he said. “You know you were jealous. Admit it.”

  I sat and fumed. I knew he was right. Of course, he was. And I was so transparent, now he knew too. Could I not display even a modicum of civility and decorum while in his company? I seemed to be able to manage it with other people.

  I rolled my eyes. “Fine. I was a tad jealous. Happy?”

  He grinned. “Deliriously.”

  “Good,” I huffed.

  “You were sexy when you were jealous.”

  That got my attention, and I turned my head.

  He shot a sly grin. “Very. Sexy.”

  “Surely you’re mistaken.”

  “Nope. And what’s more, you’re sexy when you pout.”

  I narrowed my eyes. “I’m not pouting.”

  “I can’t decide which is sexier: jealous Olivia, or pouting Olivia.”

  I snorted and shook my head.

  “Or maybe exasperated Olivia? She’s sexy as hell, too.”

  I rotated in my seat and faced him. “Are you quite finished yet?”

  “Baby, I’m just getting started.” His eyes were warm and crinkly as he gazed back. He was adorable when playful.

  “Why do you always use my given name? Most people call me Liv.”

  “Do they?” He raised both eyebrows, as if this were news to him. “I’m not most people.”

  “No, you most certainly are not.” I shook my head, my lips twitching. “Still, one syllable is easier than four.”

  His smile turned enigmatic, his eyes calculating as he turned his gaze back to the business of driving.

  “I’m not interested in what’s easier. When I use your given name, I want you to know I’m speaking directly to you, that my thoughts are all about you, and that I want your full attention. I want your skin to prickle with awareness of me as your name rolls off my tongue, just as mine does in the mere mention of your name.”

  My eyes were automatically drawn to his mouth. “Olivia.” His voice was soft and deep, and my skin flamed and an ache filled my lower belly. Pavlov’s dog’s got nothing on me.

  “You see? It’s chemical between us.” How does he know what he does to me? He looked sidelong at me, at once teasing and smoldering. “Liv. Nope, just isn’t the same, is it?”

  We grinned goofily at each other until necessity dictated he return his eyes to the road. My fingers traced circles against my thigh. I was so drawn to him right now. If Damien would only pull to the shoulder, I would be in his lap.

  He nodded as if reading my mind and agreeing to my thoughts. “So, what would you like to do now?”

  I ignored the suggestive undertone. “Oh, I don’t know. Take a midnight ride through the city streets on my new bike?” I smiled sweetly at him.

  His head swiveled toward me, worry clouding his features. “Olivia‌—‌”

  “I’m only joking.” My hand darted to his thigh, and his hand immediately covered it.

  He smiled, close-lipped and hesitant, his eyes returning to the road. I knew I shouldn’t tease him as he clearly
had issues with my safety. But I couldn’t help it. After watching Ms. Overly Familiar and Beautifully Blonde paw him, I needed to know he had feelings for me. He said he did. Could I believe him? I sifted back through the evening’s comments, which had been orderly stored in my brain, with red, heart-shaped tabs for easy reference.

  You are remarkable and rare…‌you’re so damn beautiful…‌you are so fucking sexy…‌and my world changed…‌maybe a little enamored.

  Wow! He had expressed himself more than I realized. Much more than you have, the voice in my head snarked.

  “Damien, I’m sorry I said that. Sometimes I speak before thinking.” My words came out in a rush.

  His hand squeezed mine, and he lifted it to his lips, kissing it tenderly and sneaked a look at me before returning to the road. “Stay with me tonight.”

  It was not a question. My mind whirled as his lips pressed against my skin. I was in desperate need of “me” time. I wanted to go home and process all that he had told me, all that had happened. He was like a tornado and I was defenseless in his path. I needed some downtime to catch my breath.

  “Damien, I should‌—‌”

  “You should come home with me. Just say yes.” He kissed my hand again, his lips soft, his breath warm on my knuckles. That supercharged current rose between us, now so familiar and so, so addicting.

  I stared at his lovely profile and my willpower was slipping. I didn’t stand a chance of resisting him when he was touching me. We both sidestepped the issue of the stupid sex contest‌—‌fun while it lasted but now past its expiration date.

  I tried to pull my hand away but he gripped me tighter.

  “Don’t overthink this, Olivia.” He squeezed my hand and returned it to his thigh, keeping his hand covering mine.

  When I didn’t reply, he continued without skipping a beat.

  “I have business in Chicago tomorrow and through most of the week,” he explained. “Which means I won’t see you for a few days. Give me tonight.” His voice was throaty, and I closed my eyes, breathing heavily as desire uncoiled from deep inside.

  “When will you be back?” I breathed, willing myself not to get too hopeful and bracing for the fallout.

  “I’ll be back on Friday. Earlier if I can manage it.”

  My breath faltered and volcanic heat cascaded from my belly to my sex. His quads tensed under my hand and unconsciously I caressed him. I knew I should resist and needed time to think all this through. This was our first date! Who slept with a man on their first date? You did! that quickly-becoming-despised voice in my head shrilled.

  He took a deep breath, exhaling harshly. “I want you. I have thought of little else since I met you, and now that I’ve had you I need more of you. Christ, I’ve been hard all night just being in your presence. I don’t know how the hell I’m going to leave you tomorrow.”

  “Damien…”

  “Tell me you don’t want this.” The hand covering mine contracted, clasping me to him tightly.

  I was panting, forcing myself to sit still when all I wanted was to launch myself at him.

  “Give us a chance. I want to try.” His warm hand left its position and rested gently on my thigh. “Please, Olivia,” he pleaded, soft and low.

  I licked my lips, my breath leaving my body in a hiss. Seconds ticked by. …and my world changed. The last of my willpower took a swan dive off the high board, disappearing in the depths of my desire.

  “Okay,” I whispered. “I’ll try, too.”

  He released a breath. “Good answer,” he drawled, sending a sultry look that went straight to my groin.

  Damien, what had you done to me? My orderly chaotic life had been turned upside down and I didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing. My only hope was that my dignity didn’t follow the lead of my willpower.

  CHAPTER 11

  Within minutes we were pulling into the parking garage of Park East Tower. Anticipation, heavy and thick, charged the bubble of the car’s interior. Damien parked and was opening my door before I had even gathered my wits. I took his hand and he helped me out, electricity arcing between our joined hands.

  My arousal was painful. No one had ever affected me like Damien. Instead of the sustaining main dish, those three mind-numbing orgasms earlier were merely an appetizer. I thought I’d be good to go for days, but I only wanted more.

  He gently took my elbow and steered me toward the empty elevator where he pulled me inside and tapped in a code. My eyes followed his every move, my chest heaving with excitement. The doors closed and he swooped down, pushing me up against the wall. I threaded my fingers through his soft hair as his lips descended upon mine, crushing and forceful. His tongue thrusted into my mouth, stroking and coaxing mine. He tasted so good. I sucked against his lips, needing more of him inside my mouth. His hands gripped my butt, grinding me against his erection. Shamelessly, I rolled into him, moaning at the delicious friction.

  “Are you real?” he groaned into my mouth, and then the doors opened onto a lit and thankfully vacant foyer. Damien’s hands cupped my shoulders and he gently pushed me away, his eyes intent on mine, then he held my hand and pulled me behind him. “Come with me.”

  A large painting covered the wall directly in front of us. It was modern art, very colorful and bold in its rendering. Below it, a long table with a black marble top displayed a series of clear glass bowls.

  The interior walls were a cream color with stark white molding, which imparted a very warm tone. Damien touched a bank of switches and soft light diffused the blackness, revealing a massive open-style apartment. I wandered along behind him, stunned at the size of the place. The foyer opened into a large rectangular living area surrounded by floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Forest Park and the Central West End. My head rolled on my shoulders as I took in the windows that went go forever in all directions. As I walked toward them, my eyes followed the canvas of windows down a hallway to another series of rooms where in the distance I could see the Arch. The windows must have completely encircled his apartment.

  An enormous half-moon-shaped rust-colored leather sofa was placed overlooking the windows, encircling a large natural wood coffee table. An exotic-looking cream and gold floor rug, as big as the entire top floor of my house, encompassed this half of the room, covering the ivory colored wood floors. Eclectic paintings and objets d’art provided striking splashes of color and covered almost every wall and table, offsetting the neutral and earthy tones of the walls, floor and furniture. Damien obviously knew something about art. Or he had an interior decorator. Clearly, he hadn’t been joking when he said he could afford the bike.

  Standing in the middle of the room, I noted an open professional kitchen to the left, filled with stainless commercial-grade appliances and glass-fronted off-white cabinets. An array of four flat-screen TVs adorned the wall to the right of the massive walk-in pantry. The kitchen was separated from the massive living room by a six-seat white granite bar. Tucked within the kitchen, a matching island was topped by hanging pedestal lights. To the right of the kitchen, a sleek table seating ten highlighted the dining area. No walls separated the areas, making for what was a cavernous apartment on a scale I could barely get my mind around.

  A large white marble fireplace adorned the far wall where an abundance of couches and chairs set around it. In the middle of the two-story room was a U-shaped floating staircase leading to the upper floor and, I assumed, the bedrooms.

  “This is where you live?” I breathed, clamping my lips shut to keep my mouth from hanging open.

  “It is.”

  I walked toward the windows, wanting to look out on the nighttime city and feeling a little like Kate Winslet in Titanic.

  “I’m queen of the world,” I murmured.

  I could hear his footsteps as he followed behind me and then his hands were grasping mine as he gently drew them upward just like Jack did for Rose. I giggled at the picture we must have made.

 
“Manners dictate that I observe social niceties and offer you a drink,” he crooned against my ear, releasing my raised hands. I felt the loss of his warmth as he stepped back.

  I turned around to focus my attention on the lean, muscular, gorgeous man standing not three feet from me. He had removed his jacket and tossed it on a nearby chair.

  We stared at one another, our ragged breathing shockingly loud in the cavernous room.

  “I don’t want a drink, Damien.”

  His eyes darkened. “Tell me what you want.”

  “You,” I whispered. He caught me as I catapulted myself at him, my lips straining against his, my hands grasping the back of his head and holding him at my greedy mouth.

  Damien kissed me back with equal furor, his tongue expertly stroking against mine, possessing every square inch. His hands moved down my sides, sliding up and over my breasts and down to my hips before making a return journey to my breasts. He cupped both and broke our kiss, looking down at my cleavage in admiration and wonder.

  “These inhabit my dreams.” He bent and kissed the top of my breast, sucking softly and trailing kisses across to the other, showing equal attention. I arched my back and pressed them against his mouth, my hands pulling his head tightly against me.

  He suddenly stopped and bent to pick me up in his arms with ease. I wrapped my arms around his neck, threading my fingers through his thick, lustrous hair as he carried me up the thick glass steps of the staircase and down a hallway. We entered into a large room, and he pushed a button on the wall. Lights instantly turned on to reveal his bedroom. Like the rest of the house, it was massive and surrounded on two sides by those floor-to-ceiling windows looking down on St. Louis.

  A king-sized canopy bed made of natural wood and scrolled metal with a slatted headboard was covered in sumptuous indigo and cream linens and sat facing the windows and the city beyond. Stopping next to it, he released my legs, allowing them to swing down to the floor. He held me tightly against his body as my heeled boots found purchase, his lips exploring my face and covering it in baby kisses. I was a breathless mess.