Arousal Read online

  Arousal

  By A.C. Rose

  AROUSAL

  Goddess Communications

  Copyright © 2016 by A.C. Rose

  Digital Edition 2016

  Cover Design: Najla Qamber Designs

  Editor: Victoria Miller

  Proofreading: Marla S. Esposito at Proofing with Style

  ISBN-10: 1-941630-04-9

  ISBN-13: 978-1-941630-04-4

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher. Please do not participate or encourage piracy of copyright-protected materials in violation of author’s rights. Please purchase only authorized editions.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  Table of Contents

  Copyright

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Chapter Twenty-six

  About A.C. Rose

  Stay After Class

  Other Titles by A.C. Rose

  Prologue

  The elderly woman called for her nurse and asked for help sitting up in bed. Frail and growing weaker, her days as matriarch and grand prophet for her clan were winding down. She had but one remaining goal before she left this world: to ensure her eldest grandson found true love. And that she passed her powers to him and his beloved. It was his birthright. It was her need. He had a tradition to uphold, and the family legacy must pass securely to him.

  “Eloise,” she said to her long-time, devoted nurse and companion. “Bring me my book of wisdom. I must give my grandson assistance. I will need your help.”

  The nurse picked up a leather-bound volume of handwritten notes on parchment pages and placed it on the elderly woman’s lap. She brought over her reading glasses. Though unable to hold the heavy book, the woman opened the pages and found what she needed.

  “I have seen her in my dreams, Eloise, and she is a beauty. They are fated to meet, but while he is so ready to love, she is afraid. There are walls around her heart. We may need to move things along. My time on this Earth is waning.”

  “But you know he doesn’t like you to use your powers for such things.”

  “This is only for good.” She smiled up at her nurse. Her blue eyes twinkled with conviction.

  “Of course.”

  “An old legend tells us when two certain souls are created in heaven, an angel cries out, Ves’tacha! These two are meant to be. It is said that if these people meet and recognize each other for who they truly are, they will fall in love and become as one. Then together they will build a love that is a sanctuary and the foundation of their lives. A love that is so fulfilling that they may reach out to others with compassion and service. No hardship can alter the strength of their love. And everything they do will succeed because they are fated for each other.”

  “And you must help them meet.” The nurse smiled and draped a shawl around the older woman’s shoulders.

  “Exactly. This marriage was arranged by the heavens, not by me. It just needs some help.” She slipped on her glasses and perused the book.

  “Which love prayer are you thinking of?”

  “This one.” The older woman pointed a wrinkled finger at a page that had been somewhat faded by time.

  To help a man move heaven and earth for love, show him a ticking clock and tell him he has six dates to inspire a woman see she loves him and to make her his. And repeat this prayer:

  Bring these lovers together soon,

  When the moment is opportune.

  Let fiery passion them consume,

  And bring consummation at full moon.

  Stir arousal, so romance can begin,

  Melt resistance and invite love in.

  Give him strength to penetrate her shield;

  Give her desire to fully yield.

  Tho’ she may not know they are meant to be,

  Let awareness grow and become reality.

  The elderly woman removed her glasses and gazed at her nurse. “They would bond naturally because they are meant to be. But, with this, they shall be irresistible to each other immediately. My grandson will have his true love—and our legacy will live on.”

  Chapter One

  Day One: Tuesday

  I may have been a little distracted as I searched the elevator control panel for Club Kismet, the new upscale private venue on the seventy-seventh floor of a Manhattan high-rise on First Avenue. I was heading to the launch party for the new, high-tech My Fantasy e-Reader. I’d worked for months as lead publicist to make sure this event would be a success, and it felt to me like a date with destiny. A great product introduction, with good press, would mean advancement for me. And it would put the company my father founded back on the map.

  The elevator was like a hall of mirrors, and it was impossible not to look at myself—from all angles. I scanned my professional attire: black pencil skirt; slinky, white tucked in silk shirt; pearls on my ears and neck; and fashionable five-inch heels that gave my petite frame a boost. The outfit hugged my curves without being too revealing. My long, dark hair was neatly upswept off my neck with a barrette. I never wanted to look too sexy at a press event. People tended to drink a lot, and I didn’t want to invite any touchy-feely behavior. Turning down an advance from a media hot shot was awkward as hell, but it was career suicide not to—so I kept my shirt buttoned to the top and played friendly but not flirtatious.

  As I reached over and pushed the button for my floor, I noticed an errant strand of hair on my face. I turned toward the largest mirror in the center and as I was about to brush it off, a tall, golden-haired Adonis expertly karate chopped the air between the doors and stopped it from closing. He slid his long, lean body into the elevator and landed right behind me in the center of the car. The elevator door closed, but he didn’t move; he stood there, as if he was meant to be so close. Something about him seemed familiar.

  As the elevator ascended, our eyes locked in the mirror, which captured us from many angles and intensified his penetrating gaze. A slight tremor ran through me when his breath touched the back of my neck. I was mesmerized, unable to avert my eyes from his. We stood like this for twenty-seven floors and said nothing as we sped upward. It seemed that a strange magnetic force bound us together.

  When the elevator unexpectedly halted at the twenty-eighth floor, we both turned toward the door. The unexpected stop gave me a chance to collect myself and pull to one side of the elevator. He went to the other, but his blue-eyed gaze stayed on me. It took me a moment to realize the elevator wasn’t moving.

  “Elevators,” he said in a strong, sexy voice seasoned with an accent I couldn’t place. “Sometimes they have a mind of their own.” He turned to the control panel on his side of the car and pres
sed the open button. When nothing happened, he pressed for the seventy-seventh floor again. I anxiously waited to hear the churning gears of a moving elevator or the sound of the door opening. Nothing. That’s when I began to panic.

  Fear slid into the pit of my stomach. My breathing accelerated. I held on to the rails along either side of me with a white-knuckled grip.

  He glanced over. “I am sure we’ll start moving in a moment,” he said, still calm and composed.

  I eyed the red emergency call button and gripped the rails tighter.

  “I … I have a thing about elevators.” Fright spread through my body and was now also settled in my chest. My blood pumped hot through arteries and veins. “Got stuck in one when I was young, with my Grandmother. And—” It was getting harder to talk.

  He reached his long arm to push the emergency call button. Nothing happened. Next, he slid his hand into his suit jacket for his cell phone.

  “This is the worst day ever to get stuck in an elevator,” I panted, staring at the buttons on the panel as if willing the car to move. “I need to get out of here.”

  He tried to make a call from his cell but shook his head and placed the phone back in his pocket. Apparently the service was dead. He lifted his hand to his square jaw, with its slight cleft and perfect blond stubble beard, and rubbed it, as if giving deep thought to something.

  “Stay calm,” he said, his tone soothing. “Everything is going to be okay.”

  Those were the exact words my grandmother said when I was eight years old and an elevator stopped in between floors. I could almost hear her voice and see her saying the words. I was freaking out.

  “You don’t understand; I can’t be stuck. Not here. Not now. Not ever.” I began to hyperventilate.

  “Well then, there is only one thing to do.”

  Before I could blink, he came forward and closed the distance between his end of the elevator and mine. He was in front of me. Two strong hands brushed back a few lose strands of hair and reached for my face. “I won’t let anything happen to you,” he said, his breath against my skin—against my mouth—as he leaned in closer.

  His lips came down on mine. Warm and soft, they issued an invitation that suddenly made me forget my panic. It happened so quickly, and powerfully, that my body responded in total surrender. My mouth yielded to his, and then opened as he pressed his tongue in deeply and passionately. It seemed impossibly intimate for two people who had just met, yet his mouth felt so good on mine.

  He moved in closer, and pressed me against the elevator wall, his body touching mine. Arousal stirred inside me as his kiss grew deeper, more probing, and more possessive. My brain left the building and fear left my body as I was transformed into a tingling mass of nerve endings. The only thing that seemed to exist in that moment was our mouths, melded together, like a perfect, matching set.

  Until the elevator started again. Abruptly. It moved so fast that my heart dropped into my stomach and my legs felt wobbly. He wrapped his arms around me and held my body firmly against his for support, but kept his mouth on mine. I moved my hands off the rails to grip his biceps. My chest was heaving and I couldn’t tell if it was from the feelings he set off in my body, or my old trauma about elevators getting set off by the weird stop and start of the steel box we were riding in.

  When the elevator slowed, he pulled away, but held me in the moment with his soulful gaze. He seemed to want to linger, yet he ended the passionate moment by pressing his lips softly on mine and punctuating the intensity of his kiss with tenderness. Then he released me from his heated grip. His gaze stayed on me as he helped me stand up straighter. I eyed him inquisitively and noticed my pink lipstick streaked across his lips, and trailing to the side of his mouth, close to his light beard. Looking over his shoulder, I could see it all over my chin as well. He noticed too.

  “You’ll need this,” he said, pulling a handkerchief from his jacket pocket.

  “We both do.”

  “Being marked by a beautiful woman is a badge of honor,” he said. A grin slid to his mouth and then reached his eyes. “I have nothing to hide, but if you insist.”

  I took his handkerchief and wiped my lip color from his face, admiring his square jaw and sexy lips. Then I patted the color from my face. It seemed more intimate than the kiss itself to touch him in that way. I tried to remove all traces of the unexpected passion from us both.

  Placing his hand on my lower back, he led us off the elevator. Then he took my right hand, lifted it to his mouth, and kissed it European-style. His gaze was still on me as his lips gently brushed my knuckles. Those eyes. They were a striking and intense blue, yet seemed to change colors, alternating between hues of blue and green. Maybe it was the lighting.

  Acting as if our amatory elevator ride was the most natural thing in the world, he released my hand, smiled, and tipped his head politely the way people do when they are about to take their leave. If there was proper etiquette for this moment, I had no idea how to invoke it. I simply held my hand out with the handkerchief.

  “Hold on to it,” he said, with the sexiest wink I had ever seen. “You may need it again tonight.”

  I had no words. None.

  “By the way,” he added, “hope elevators will be more pleasant for you now.”

  With that, he walked away. Into Club Kismet.

  What the hell happened? My mind and body were still in some sort of hormonal daze. On wobbly knees, I got myself into the ladies’ room, situated, thank goodness, just outside the venue. I imagined I was a disheveled mess on the outside because my insides seemed that way. Surely I needed to reapply my lipstick, fix my hair, and pull myself together.

  It took a few moments to bring myself back to normal consciousness. And even then I was still on shaky ground. I thought I was done with elevator panic attacks that could bring me to my knees. And when did I ever allow a man—a stranger—to get under my skin with just one glance? Never. This is so completely unlike me. I’m not the girl who gets snogged on elevators or who finds herself in “situations.” Yet he kissed me. And, worse, I didn’t try to push him off. I didn’t even want to. There was something irresistible about this man.

  For a brief moment, I smiled remembering his lips—until I came to my senses.

  “Holy crap, he was heading up to Club Kismet,” I said out loud. What if I just made out with a reporter or a TV producer? All I need is to start this event—the most important of my career—with a huge conflict of interest.

  Plopping down on the plush chair in the ladies’ room, I looked in the mirror and took stock. I seemed freshly kissed and needed new lipstick, but the rest of me had a healthy glow that belied the worry within. I closed my eyes and steadied my breathing, letting my insides settle so I could get to work. It helped. “Pull it together, Allison,” I whispered to my reflection, as I got ready to rejoin the outside world. “Get your head out of your panties and get back into the game.”

  I put on my best smile and went into the club.

  As I crossed the threshold into the large room, with its elegant décor and large chandeliers, my composure returned. I’d created this event! I headed to the press table my assistant had set earlier that day. Excitement rippled through me as I passed through party guests. They were talking and laughing. Thirty top media outlets had RSVP’d, and that in itself was a huge accomplishment. My night would be about talking up the e-reader, demonstrating it, and encouraging the press to try the product and write about it. My table was close to the bar, where media people tend to congregate when libations are free. That was a good thing; I may need a drink, too.

  With so much riding on this evening I could not afford to mess it up in any way. I had to block the hot guy from the elevator out of my head and avoid him at all costs. I prided myself on being a careful professional, and I especially never messed around with media or men in work environments.

  I would pretend this never happened.

  Chapter Two

  Thankfully, there was great inter
est in the new reading device, and I spent much of the first hour happily demonstrating it and securing media coverage. Truth is, I loved the product. It was a universal e-reader that allowed consumers to purchase romances from all the main sources—Kindle, Kobo, Nook, and iBook—and contained a database of photos and videos in an app we called, “Who Should Play Him in the Movie?” This was based on research that confirmed readers loved to select their own look for the characters in the books and enjoyed selecting photos of handsome men who may fit the bill. Once I started showing if off, I remembered what this night was all about.

  It was so interesting how one’s perspective could quickly change depending on the influences of the moment. I entered the building with nothing but business on my mind. I freaked when the elevator seemed stuck. The moment became about a desirable stranger randomly and passionately kissing me. Then I was back to normal, doing my job and focusing on my priorities.

  Until I spotted him again.

  There he was, the man from the elevator, surrounded by men who hung on his every word and women who gaped at him adoringly. He was clearly a center of influence in the room.

  He stood out from the after-work crowd in a light gray suit with a white shirt, open at the neck, sans necktie. His golden hair was combed back, and looked very GQ. And those eyes—intense, exciting. I remembered how they connected to mine in the elevator. This man was physical perfection, really, and so self-possessed. His strong, captivating presence had everyone around him mesmerized. Me included.