12
After a while of us sitting quietly, Riot closed his notebook and shifted in his seat to face me.
“Enough about me,” he said. “How is your writing going?”
I tried to think of a way to put it that wouldn’t sound so embarrassing.
“You can tell me,” he said. “You don’t have to deal with it alone.”
“Hitting me with my own words?” I asked.
“Tell me,” he repeated.
I gave in. “I’m having trouble figuring out how to make my stories hotter.”
“Hotter than they already are?” Riot asked.
“It’s not enough,” I said. “Not judging by all the comments popping up on every one of my posts. I don’t know if I’m able to write the kind of stuff they’re all looking for.”
Riot studied me.
“Come on,” he said, nodding toward the library stacks. “I want to show you something.” He held his hand out to me.
It was risky, taking his hand in public. But I’d looked around before and had seen how engrossed everyone was in their own studies, probably for their own last minute exams.
I was probably being paranoid.
Riot’s hand was too good an offer to refuse. I took it. His fingers curled around mine as he led me across the library. As we walked, I could feel the fear creeping in again, passing desk by desk. But thus far, no one had looked up. No one I could see, anyway. Maybe this would all be okay after all.
“Are you going to show me another one of those classic erotica novels?” I asked as he led me deeper into the library. “I don’t think you can find those in the reference stacks.”
“Trust me,” Riot said.
And I did. I did trust Riot.
I followed him deeper in. The sounds from the main areas of the library, quiet as they already were, completely disappeared. We were alone, in almost total silence, at the back of the stacks.
He stopped, pulling me close, taking both my wrists and pining them to my sides. My heart jumped. He leaned in, so close I could smell his cologne, a smoky mix of leather and earth.
“You want to make your stories hotter?” he asked.
Nodding wordlessly, I stepped closer, feeling my breasts brush up against his strong chest. I wanted desperately to fall into him.
His eyes flashed with a dark, wicked gleam. “How much hotter?”
“Riot—“
His lips were on mine, sending electricity through my body and stoking the fire inside faster than I thought possible. I melted into him, kissing him back, growing more desperate for him with every second.
He pressed me against the catalogue stack. One hand slid over my hip, down my thigh. As we kissed, his hand slipped under my skirt.
He pulled away, leaving me breathless, panting, staring at him hungrily.
Please,” I begged quietly.
His fingers found my clit.
I cried out, trying to keep my voice low but feeling overheated as he rubbed circles through my panties. It wasn’t enough to satisfy the hunger growing inside of me.
