“You make it sound so good that I’m going to let that one slip.”
Let what slip?Without thinking, I reach out to turn his face toward me, wondering what he means. Longing fills my chest, wanting him to say more. Does he feel as alone as I do? But our eyes lock and I’m trapped in his gaze.
“Jade,” he says so quietly I barely hear it.
I know he’s going to kiss me, and I want him to so badly that desire is almost enough to drown out the voice in my head warning me off—almostenough but not. I turn from him with a jerk. “I should get home,” I mutter. “Feels like we’ve been up here for hours.”
I head toward the stairs without waiting for his response, but he’s right behind me.
Except for the familiar smell of old pages and old wood, the library feels like a different space than the one we left. Maybe it’s me. I didn’t know what to think going into this night, but now that it’s ending, I’m even more confused. Whatisthis thing between us? Desire makes people do wild things and believe in the impossible. Maybe I’m only under the spell of attraction to a profoundly attractive man. But my brain argues that’s not all it is. Every conversation with Reeve reveals another layer to him, complexity and intelligence and, dare I say it, a kind heart.
As we breeze through the silence of the library, I’m hyperaware of him behind me and the weight of his gaze on the back of my neck. A faint sense of embarrassment spreads heat through my body, and I kind of wish I had a prettier neck for him to stare at; ridiculous.
We pass rows of bookstacks and then his hand catches mine, pulling me into the privacy of an aisle. I catch only a glimpse of the fiery look in his eyes before he kisses me.Cold metal shelves press into my back and his warm lips cover mine and all I can think is,Of course he gets what he wants.
This must be what my body was craving all night, because it takes only a second and then I’m kissing him hard, reaching for him like this was my idea all along. My hands take in the warmth of his body while my mouth absorbs the heat of his. The thrill of novelty washes through me, but our mouths fit together like we’ve done this a hundred times. Goose bumps rise on my skin as he teases me with his tongue, making me wait and then kissing me so deeply our teeth clash.
His hands close firmly around my hips and pull me closer. When the bulge of his cock presses against me, I go weak with desire. His knuckles brush the fly of my jeans, a touch as electrifying as it is subtle.
Please keep going,I think.
I don’t care that we’re in the library. Pressed against the solid, protective power of Reeve, it seems entirely possible we could tear our clothes off right here and drop to the floor and no one would ever know. He could make that happen. And even if he couldn’t, it would be worth it.
“Ahem. Excuse me,” a voice says brusquely, shocking me out of my sex-charged cocoon.
We look over to find a dour-looking middle-aged woman eyeballing us over the rim of her glasses. She’s not wearing a Shafer University Library tag like the librarians usually do, but clearly she has some kind of authority over us, because I feel instantly cold, every bit of horniness drained from my body.
Reeve tips his head charmingly toward the woman. “Sorry, she’s got a blood vessel disorder. If I don’t do that on the hour, she loses circulation in her extremities.”
I want to smack him, but to my shock, the lady in glasses actually chuckles. I can’t believe it. It wasn’t even funny! Is no one immune to Reeve’s good looks?
“Do your warm-up dance at home, then,” she says to him, still holding on to a little smile. I, of course, don’t exist.
Reeve tips his head to her again and heads the opposite way, taking me by the hand. I glance back at the interloper just before we turn out of sight. She’s actually ogling Reeve. Unbelievable! Forget money—good looks, charm, and having a penis are the ultimate power cocktail.
Reeve is grinning by the time we walk out the library doors.
“I can’t believe you said that to her.”
“She liked it. So you want to go do the warm-up dance at home?”
“You’re unreal.”
He moves closer and puts his mouth to my ear. “I’ll take that as a yes.”
I laugh and push him away. “I’ve never been less interested. I think I owe that lady a thank-you note.”
He walks me home, being his cocky, grinning self the whole time. What happened at the library—the kiss, the talk of our crappy home lives, the near confessions that I might’ve just imagined—doesn’t linger awkwardly. But now I know for certain how quickly I can lose myself around him, how easily I get spun around and lose direction completely. I can’t let that happen, not with Reeve of all people.
At my door I barely look at him as I say thank you and hustle my ass inside before there’s any possibility of another kiss. I silence my phone and leave it on the couch, then take my time washing off my makeup and changing into pajamas in case he texts me asking if I’ve reconsidered his offer to dance.
When I finally check my phone thirty minutes later, there’s nothing from Reeve, which is how it should be; he and I can never be. I want to feel relieved, but I don’t.
NINETEEN
reeve
I’m so fucked.
