A brief silence settled between them, but she could feel it even without saying it aloud.
Something had changed. The silence no longer felt comfortable, though just a bit unsettling. Now, it felt tense and charged. With what, she couldn’t tell. However, his words, when they broke the silence, told her all she needed to know.
“Ye think such wild tales of Eve could ever happen outside the pages?” he asked.
She felt warmth spread through her body. His gaze was now boring into her, and there was something behind it. Something ravenous. Something she, as hard as it was for her to admit, would love to see him unleash.
“Have ye ever tried enacting the tales?” she asked, her voice as sultry as it could be.
A smile crossed his face as he leaned forward, as if that was all the permission he needed.
“Nay,” he murmured.
“That is quite surprising, to say the least,” she breathed.
“Shall we put that to the test?” he asked, taking a step closer to her.
She meant to respond with something neat and clever, but his nearness stole her words. He stepped even closer, and she got a whiff of that scent she could never place. His breath stirred the short, loose strands near her ear, and a shiver rushed through her.
“What do ye want?”
Her eyes fluttered shut, relishing the feel of his breath against her neck and the heat radiating from him.
“What?” she muttered, unable to speak another word.
“Tell me what ye want, Emma,” Jack said again, his voice rough.
“Why?” she asked. “Do ye have something in mind?”
“Ye have nay idea the things I have in mind.”
She opened her eyes and held his gaze, feeling her pride rise fast. Her usual sense of habit followed right behind.
“Really? And what are those?”
He did not respond. Instead, he lifted a hand and set his fingers, light and deliberate, on her waist. He did not pull her in. He waited for her to make the next move.
She leaned toward him without thinking, her shoulder brushing the edge of a shelf in the process. Two books slid free from the impact and fell straight to the floor. A third slipped from above and grazed Jack’s boot. They both glanced down, then back at each other, and almost laughed.
“Careful,” she said softly.
“Aye,” he murmured. “Careful.”
She noticed that he did not crowd her. Instead, he let the space close at a pace that seemed chosen by her rather than by him. The candles around the room flickered at that moment, and a gust of wind slipped through windows she couldn’t see.
She could have stepped back, but she found she did not want to.
“So tell me, how much of these books have ye actually read?” she asked. “I need ye to be honest with me.”
“Enough,” he replied. “Enough to ken how to read people.”
She shook her head. “Is that why ye read books? To read people?”
“It helps a lot,” he said, still holding her gaze.
“Is that why ye are so confident?” Her breath was heavy, but her voice was steady enough. “Why ye seem to believe ye have everything under yer thumb?”
“Nay,” he said. “Nay man ever has everything under his thumb. Ye’re clever enough to ken that.”
