Thrill Me (The Billionaire's Secrets Book 3) by Kayla C. Oliver

Author:Kayla C. Oliver [Oliver, Kayla C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Green Hill Publishing
Published: 2017-10-08T22:00:00+00:00

Virgin’s Desire (Bonus)

Kayla C. Oliver

Chapter One

Camille

I’m shaking. I’m so mad, so hurt.

“What are you trying to say?” I ask Jackson, studying his chocolate brown eyes like he’s going to say something that’ll change my life.

He’s calm as he runs a hand through his douchebag haircut. He’s wearing those skinny jeans I hate and those glasses I know he only wears to look cool. “You’re an ice queen,” he says, blowing his breath out like he’s vaping on the back patio.

“Because I won’t have sex with you?” He’s got me all wrong. He has to. I’m not an ice queen. I’m not a prude. Am I?

“Well, yeah. And because you won’t do fun shit with me,” he says, his fingers finding his phone screen where it sits on the table in front of him. The party invite is there. He’d asked me. I’d turned him down, but not because I don’t want to have fun.

Because I’m studying for finals.

Or… I was studying for finals.

Something snaps in my mind. I was taught to be this. To be perfect. To be pretty. To be sweet. To be loveable. I was top of my high school class. I studied hard, I worked at making sure my hair was pretty, my skin was flawless, and my clothes were fashionable, but not too flashy.

I didn’t overdo it. I didn’t show off. I was perfect.

“So you’re breaking up with me because I won’t party with you or put out?” I ask, finalizing it all in my head. Even as I want to scream and cry, I feel a steely fist closing around those emotions. Before he can answer, I seal my fate. “Fuck you, Jackson. Fuck you and your stupid haircut. Fuck you and your hipster bullshit. You’re not sensitive, or deep. You’re just a stupid prick who only wants to get laid.”

With that, I’m on my feet and out the door of his shitty apartment that I’d tried to convince myself was charming.

Tears fill my eyes, but I blink them back. I had worked hard on my makeup. It’s not worth ruining it for him. I head towards home, feeling pain and fury eating at my stomach lining like so much bile. And a plan forms.

I’m not going to class.

I’m tired of being perfect. I’m tired of trying to live for other people. I’m tired of doing what I’m supposed to do. I’m tired of being perfect.

As I open the door to my apartment, I pull off my shirt and let it drop to the floor. My skirt follows. In only my pretty lavender underwear, I stop before my full length mirror. My best friend, Amber, had left a note written in red lipstick on the mirror.

Camille, I love you! Good luck on your finals!

Boy is she going to be surprised.

They’re all going to be surprised. With sure hands, I grab that red dress that’s much too short. Taking off my cute underwear, I pull on the dress with nothing underneath.

I’m a prude, huh?

My hands make quick work of my makeup, darkening the eyeliner and making my lips a deeper red.

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