Beautiful Prince (Van der Borne University Book 1)

by Dakota Lee

  "No apologies needed. Staring is sort of the point of the class."

  Noel comes in and we all talk a few more minutes while the other students get settled. I take my seat, ignoring Logan's penetrating gaze.

  I'm calm, and centered, and talking to the model has somehow humanized her. She's more than body parts, and now, I can see her as a person. Just as interesting as anyone I've encountered in the park.

  I focus on that as I pick up my tools to paint. I get lost in the music in my ears, the subject in front of me and the colors on my canvas. A hand squeezes my shoulder and I'm vaguely aware of Noel's encouragement. "Good work, Jordanna."

  It's not perfect, but it is better than all of my other work. We switch to a male model next class and I refuse to let my discomfort continue to paralyze me. I'll talk to him too and then disengage from what I'm doing, just focusing on bringing the art forth, just like today.

  I stay behind to talk to a few students and feel a chill when I step outside to see Logan waiting for me. "Jordanna."

  "I already sent my inputs to your email." I say without turning around to look at him. I meant what I said about our partnership. If he can't respect my boundaries, I don't want to see him outside of classes.

  He grabs my arm, and I snatch it away as if burned by the flames of hell. He's certainly a hell beast. Seductive one second, vindictive the next. "Don't ever touch me again."

  "That's not what you were saying the other night."

  "Bastard!"

  He's immediately contrite. "Jordy, I'm sorry. God, I'm trying to apologize and you always have to make things so combative."

  "I don't need your apology. I just want you to stay away from me."

  Noel frowns, walking over to us. "Jordanna, is everything alright?"

  Logan cuts his eyes at Noel and sneers, "This doesn't concern you, Noel."

  "I wasn't talking to you, Logan." Noel snaps back. He looks down at me, concern etched along his angular features. "Jordanna?" He gently tucks a hair behind my ear.

  "Get your hands off of her, Noel."

  "Jordanna, are my hands on you making you uncomfortable?"

  "No. Not at all."

  "Jordy." Logan growls. "I'm warning you."

  "Oh, bite me, Logan. You are such a hypocrite. Didn't you go home with Lynette the other night? I bet her hands were on you in some interesting places."

  Noel nods. "With his reputation, and their history, I bet they were too."

  That confirms what I thought about the two of them. Noel slips his arm over my shoulder. "I'm heading to the library. Walk with me and we can discuss the work you did today. It was amazing."

  He ushers me down the path, commenting on how I seemed more relaxed today, and the crisp lines of my painting.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  I'm seething because Noel interrupted my chance to fix things with Jordanna. I taunted her with my threat to fuck Lynette. She was willing, but I couldn't go through with it.

  I wanted to tell Jordy nothing happened, and then Noel swooped in, validating her fears. I'm sitting on the couch in her living room, trying to respect her boundaries, though everything in me wants to go into her room and nut all over the bed. Like a fucking animal marking his territory.

  She's on the phone when she walks in, takes one look at me and goes straight to her room, closing the door. I hear the lock slide into place. She's shutting me out, and that only makes me want to break down the door and pin her on the bed as I have my way with her.

  I bang on the door. I don't give a shit who's on the other line. If it's Robbie, I want him to hear me. "Jordy, we need to talk."

  "I have nothing to say to you."

  "Well, I have plenty to say to you, so open this fucking door."

  "Logan, how many times do I have to tell you to leave me the hell alone? Get it through your head, I don't like you and I don't want to see you."

  "If you don't open this door, you'll be sorry."

  She doesn't answer and I can't finish this conversation, because I have a meeting I need to be at on the other side of the campus. I'm fuming that she keeps defying me. And turned on by her refusal to give in.

  "Oh, shit." Tabby groans next to me.

  "What?"

  I follow the direction of her hand and my heart stutters to a stop. How the hell did she get in here? This was an invitation only event with a very limited guest list. Tobias and Will are with her, and I see Bella smirking at the other end of the booth. Shit. She's manipulating the game.

  My eyes follow Jordy around the spiral staircase as she climbs to the VIP level and settles next to the bar. This is not the place for her. I bolt from my seat, stalking over to where she stands, slipping my hand around her wrist, and pulling her onto the dance floor.

  "What are you doing? Let go."

  "I feel like dancing."

  "Generally people ask, before dragging me on the floor."

  "I'm not general people, and I'm not asking you shit. You're here wearing a dress I brought, I think that entitles me to a dance."

  "I'm not your whore, I'm going to pay back the money you spent, and if you're so pressed about this dress, you can have it back."

  Shit, that didn't come out the way I meant it. "I didn't mean it like that. I don't want the dress back." I peer down at her. "You look fucking amazing in it, just like I knew you would. I just wanna dance."

  She looks towards the booth where I was sitting. "With you, Jordanna. I want to dance with you."

  "Logan, do you even know how to dance?"

  "Are you asking because I went to private school?"

  "I'm asking because you're usually sitting at parties."

  I hold out my hand. "Dance with me Jordy, please."

  She sways a little, still skeptical about my intentions. "I am dancing."

  "You're standing here afraid to move. I wanna feel you moving against me. Make me want you. Make me so insanely needy for you that I'll go to bed dreaming of the way you feel against me."

  "Why would you want that when I keep telling you nothing is ever happening between us?"

  "Because I like you. I'm attracted to you, and apparently I'm a masochist because even knowing you're gonna reject me in the end, I want to be close to you."

  I turn her away so she's not looking at me, hoping that will put her more at ease. I wrap my arms around her, noticing how stiff she is. Refusing to relax in my embrace.

  "I didn't fuck Lynette after the party, I dropped her home and I went to my studio to paint and work of steam. I was an ass for suggesting I would do anything other than that."

  She relaxes a little, and I pull her closer. We turn in a slow circle. Her ass grazing me again and again as she gets into the music. I turn her to face me, and she tries to put some distance between us when my erection pokes against her stomach, but I refuse to let her put this space between us.

  "Logan…"

  "Deal with it, Jordy. This is what you do to me. Every. Damn. Time."

  Her breath hitches as I pull her closer. I keep us pressed together, a satisfied smirk crossing my lips when her body melts into mine. Her fists grip my shirt, then her arms slip around my neck. I can feel her trembling in my arms.

  I bend my head to her neck, teasing the skin in the hollow of her throat. Her head tilts to the side, a sexy little moan escapes her lips. We're moving as one, and I feel her tentatively rub against me. That's it, Jordy. I think to myself. Listen to your body.

  "Logan," I shrug off the tap on my shoulder. "Logan!"

  "What the fuck?"

  Hal's frowning at me, pointing at his watch. Shit. I lost track of time.

  "Jordanna, there's a car out front. Take it back to campus and I'll talk to you tomorrow."

  "I'm not leaving."

  Hal's eyes widen, and he elbows me in the ribs. "She's staying for the after hours?"

  Jordanna gives me a questioning look, and I respond with a look of my own. No, she will not be staying for that. She ignores my look, slips out of my arms and st
eps closer to Hal. "What's the after hours?"

  "Jordanna…" I don't want to get into another fight with her. Not here.

  I tell Hal I'll be over in a second and escort Jordanna off the dance floor.

  "Oh. I get it."

  "Get what?" I turn to see her attention drawn to two women standing by the door.

  "People you've slept with, I presume."

  "Not in over a year."

  "At the same time?"

  "It happens."

  "Is after hours usually when it happens?" She asks in her cub reporter voice.

  "That's why you're going home."

  "So that you can stay and have sex, after I warmed you up?"

  I scrub a hand through my hair. I don't want to lie to her, but I also don't want to give her another reason to spout that bullshit about wanting to be friends again. "I'll probably just watch."

  "Watch?" She pales, taking a step away from me.

  I hate having to explain myself, but I do. “There's an alternative fashion shoot going on. Sometimes the models are fully clothed. Sometimes they wear less clothes. Almost always, somebody hooks up and they don't always feel like waiting until the shoot is over. I'm one of the photographers on schedule for tonight, so I apologize for having to cut our evening short."

  She's staring at the models, and swivels her head, taking in the expanse of the club. "You do it in here?"

  "There's a studio next door."

  She works her lower lip the way she does when she's concentrating, and I brace myself for another tirade about what an asshole I am. "Jordy?"

  "I'll help."

  Of all the things I expected her to say, that wasn't it. "I appreciate the offer, but I know you’re uncomfortable with nudity, and as your friend I can't let you be a part of this. Go back to campus. I'll call you tomorrow."

  "Isn't this what we're already supposedly working on? Getting me comfortable around different points of undress? What's better than fully immersing myself?"

  I fold my arms across my chest. "There will be men in there, Jordanna." There, that'll send her running for the car.

  "Are you taking your clothes off?"

  "No." I arch a brow out that question. "I'm here strictly for work."

  "Would I have to take my clothes off?"

  I was almost flaccid and her asking that and the immediate visual of what that could look like, undid all my work. "Fuck no."

  "Then what's the problem? You said it's a photo shoot and I'm a photographer too. Or is photo shoot code for porn?"

  My lips twitch. She's trying to sound unbothered but the blush on her cheeks give her away. "It's a very tasteful shoot for a body conscious magazine. The designer is incredible, but yes, varying bits of nudity will be happening."

  She nods, looking at the side door again. "Then I want to support body positivity too."

  She's not backing down, and this would be one way to see if she can handle what's coming next. I feel a surge of pride that she's trying to take control of her fear. Grabbing her hand, I pull her towards the door. "Stick close to me. Do what I say, and no wandering off."

  "Why? Are you afraid I might see a something I like and decide to give up my virginity tonight?"

  My steps grind to a halt. Whirling around, I grip her neck, forcing her face up to look at me. I smash my mouth against hers, biting down on her lip, not caring that I've pressed hard enough to draw blood. Her eyes are wild when we break apart.

  "Just to be clear, Jordy, your fucking cherry belongs to me."

  Chapter Thirty-Seven

  With our hands interlinked, Logan and I step through the curtain, so to speak. The door at the end of the hallway leads to a set of stairs and descends into a cavernous space. It's back-lit like a studio, so it's way too bright to be called a basement or dungeon, but the shadowy recesses certainly give it an illicit feel.

  He said it's a body positivity campaign and I'm pleased to see the models encompass all shapes, sizes and ethnicities. It's beautiful and liberating and a bit unnerving. Most of them still have their clothes on, and I fight hard not to show I'm bothered by the ones who don't.

  I see a few of the guys checking me out and Logan drags me back towards the camera equipment, grumbling under his breath about doing too good a job at picking out my dress. The artistic director walks in, gives instructions, and the shoot begins.

  It's a lot like what I imagine a movie production would be like. He calls cut and action and tells the models how to move, where to put their hands, how much side boob to show. He gets right up on them and puts the focus on the curve of the guy's ass as he simulates a sexual move. At some point I become concerned it's not simulated at all.

  As the shoot progresses, the models loosen up more and more, and I understand the reason Logan says sometimes the chemistry moves off camera. If the hard-bodied guy with the tattoos and man bun was burying his head in my neck and clasping my hands above my head with one hand while his other hand is on my left butt cheek, I might want to see where things lead in real life too.

  The longer we're here, the less nervous I feel. Well, not nervous about seeing the flesh at least. But there is a new set of nerves swirling around in my stomach. A fluttering interest. A curiosity. A desire pooling in my belly to know what it would feel like to be this free.

  We work until five am, and my feet are killing me even though I ditched my heels within thirty minutes after the start of the shoot. Running back and forth handing the photographers lenses and helping the assistants set up lights and getting the models to and from their dressing areas, is hard on the feet. But I loved every single minute of it.

  We're in the car heading back to school. I tilt my head back against the seat and Logan says, "You did good tonight, Jordy."

  "I know my way around a studio and camera. Painting is just my passion."

  "I know. But I meant, with the models. You didn't seem nervous."

  "I wasn't. It was fun, and it felt empowering."

  He slips his arm across the back of the seat, scooting closer, and I let him pull me against him, resting my head against his shoulder. He presses a kiss to the top of my head and the thump of the tires lull me to sleep. In my dreams, Logan's ghosting his hand up my leg, inching them closer to my damp center.

  His fingers stroke me and tease me, as he encourages me to agree to his request. He wants me to beg, to let go and free fall with him into the abyss. When I refuse, his touch turns harsh. Demanding. Forcing me to acknowledge the need he stokes.

  I know I should fight it, but I arch into his touch, needing the release he's denying me. He laves my nipple and just as I reach the summit; he snatches the pleasure away, sitting up in the seat, straightening his shirts as if nothing happened, leaving me panting with want. I jolt awake, his taunt echoing in my mind. Friends don't fuck.

  "You okay?"

  Logan's hands are running up and down my arm. The lingering effects of the dream cause me to clench my legs together. "Yeah, I feel asleep." I turn to look out the window.

  It feels wrong. For so many years, I had an idea of what my sexual journey would look like, and I knew it would be within the confines of a mutually satisfying and respectful relationship. But here I am single, hanging out with someone I'm not even sure I like most of the time.

  I study my classmate out of the corner of my eye. Logan's behavior often leaves me confused. He's sweet and charming one minute; cruel, possessive or dismissive the next. I never know if he's going to go out of his way to make me swoon, or quake in his presence.

  That kiss he gave me in the club wasn't just a kiss. It was a claiming, a promise, a brand. Nothing he's ever said or ever done makes me think he'd be gentle with me my first time. Not the way Robbie would have been. Not the way I planned. So why am I sitting here entertaining the idea of Logan being my first?

  It's been a week since the photo shoot and the dreams continue. They start out sweet and gentle, before turning rough and demanding. I can barely look in Logan's direction without imagining
him hovering over me, whispering crude things in my ears. It's like a switch flipped on and now all I can see is my attraction to him.

  "Jordy."

  "Huh?"

  "You're zoning out on me again. What's up with you, anyway?" Kassidy asks slurping her noodles.

  "If I tell you something, you promise not to judge me?"

  "Yeah. Sure. I don't judge, my folks have literally raised me not to."

  "I think I might like Logan."

  Her chopsticks stop midway to her mouth. "Logan? McKay? The guy you call the devil's unclaimed bastard son?"

  "Yeah. I need my head examined, right?"

  "Jordanna, he's hot. Everyone knows it. It's natural for you to think so, too."

  "But is it natural to want to date the guy whose friends are making my life hell?"

  She considers my question. "First, I think you should be looking at this in the past tense. Have they really done anything since the dinner party? And remember, it was Shauna causing shit that night with the little penis that shouldn't contest."

  I giggle because while I closed my eyes and left, Kassidy says she got a good look at the merchandise and was not impressed.

  "I'm serious, Kass. I've been in a relationship for a long time, I just got single, should I even be considering dating? And if you say yes, be honest. Should I be thinking about dating, him?"

  "I've known Logan since junior high. He's an ass, sure. But I also know he's different around you."

  "You mean he has to keep his clothes on because I don't fall for his charm."

  "No, I mean different. I've never heard him apologize to anyone until you, and he rarely cares who anyone else is cuddling up with, but he's made you off limits."

  "Isn't that part of his possessiveness?"

  "That's what I'm saying. Logan doesn't do possessive."

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  The students taking part in the art symposium have a meeting today about final submission guidelines. Jordanna enters the room, eyes scanning the lecture hall, searching for a seat. I expect her to sit somewhere near the front of the room, instead she plants herself in the chair next to me.