Rafael walks to my side of the bookshelf, then holds out the book. “Read a passage.”
“Right here?” I ask, looking around at the semi-empty shop.
“Why not?”
“Because it’s stupid.”
“Come on, do it.”
“Nope.”
“Do it, or I’ll start singing ‘I Want It That Way.’ Really loud.”
Please. Not even Rafael Gray is that unhinged.
“You are my fiiire,” he starts, loud and off-key, startling the old woman sitting behind the cash register.
“Stop—fine!” I take the book and flip through the pages, stopping on chapter twenty-three. The scent of Rafael so close to me—cologne mixed with something warm and masculine—makes it hard to focus.
“Simone’s heart raced as Luca reached for her hand, his fingers brushing hers with deliberate slowness,” I read. “She looked up at him, her lips parting, but no words came. His thumb traced her knuckles, his touch featherlight but electric.” I pause, feeling the weight of Rafael’s presence at my back. Before I can continue, his deep voice fills the space between us.
“?‘You’re beautiful,’?” he reads softly.
I peek over my shoulder at him, the heat of his breath so close to my ear making my pulse jump. “What are you doing?”
“Keep going,” he urges, his hand gently resting on the book to keep it open.
“Seriously, I don’t want to—”
“The one,” he begins singing, immediately catching other people’s attention, “desiiire—”
“Okay, okay.” I hesitate, then focus back on the page. “Her breath caught in her throat as his hand traveled higher, settling against her cheek. She tilted her head, leaning into the warmth of his palm. ‘Luca,’ she whispered.”
He doesn’t miss a beat, his body brushing against mine. “?‘Tell me to stop,’?” he reads in a low murmur. “?‘Tell me to go, and I’ll do as you say.’?”
I can barely see the page now, and my heart is pounding. My fingers grip the book tighter, my breath coming faster. I can’t seem to tear my eyes away from the page, yet I’m hyperaware of every inch of space—or lack thereof—between us. “I’m pretty sure Luca didn’t speak directly into Simone’s ear like that,” I protest.
“Creative interpretation.” He taps the page. “Your turn.”
I reluctantly comply. “Her voice trembled. ‘I don’t want you to stop.’ His lips hovered just inches from hers, and time seemed to hold its breath as…” The words catch in my throat as I see where this is going.
“He kissed her, slow and deep, his hand slipping to her waist to pull her closer,” Rafael continues for me.
Of course the random page I chose would be their first kiss.
At least, I hope that’s all this is.
I skim the next section, and, noticing it includes words like “heatedcore” and “throbbing erection,” I snap the book shut with a sharpthwap, nearly smacking his fingers, then hand it over. “Okay, that’s enough.”
He chuckles softly as I put some distance between us and pretend to be busy straightening the books on the shelf in front of me. “Not what I’m looking for,” I say, proud that I sound almost normal now.
“No? I thought it had potential. A little mystery, a little romance, a lot of sexual tension.”
Is he still talking about the book? Seriously, this is getting out of hand. I thought I’d frustrate him to death, not that we’d read smut together. “Nope. Not my thing.”
“Kinda looked like your thing,” he mutters under his breath, but when I glare, he sets the book down and raises both hands in surrender. “Please, continue your shopping.”
I do, grabbing another three books to add to my stack. I stretch the whole process as long as I can, but there are no more bookshelves to explore, there is no more acceptable stalling, and he’s still relaxed and upbeat, like he has nothing better to do than watch me shop for books.
