“Of course I did,” I said, voice low, barely more than breath. It wasn’t just about the book. She had to know that. She had to.
She didn’t move. Didn’t blink.
She just looked at me—like I wasn’t the villain for once. Like maybe, for the first time, I was something else.
The silence wrapped around us, thick and electric. My heart slammed against my ribs like it was trying to break out of me. Her gaze dropped to my mouth. Slowly. Deliberately.
Then she stepped back. Just an inch. Just far enough to say I could walk away.
And I hated how badly I wanted to close that distance.
“Kiss me,” she said.
Two words. Soft. Dangerous. Commanding.
I froze.
She didn’t.
She looked at me like it was a challenge—one she knew I wouldn’t refuse.
And fuck, she was right.
My body burned with restraint, with the effort not to devour her right here between Austen and Atwood. But I tilted my head, breathing her in, memorizing the weight of this moment before I surrendered to it.
She didn’t wait.
She rose up on her toes and closed the space between us—her lips brushing mine with the softest graze, like a spark catching dry kindling.
And I…
I gave in.
Because I’d been fighting for control since the moment I met her, and this kiss? This moment?
It made losing feel like winning.
Everything outside of her—this store, this war between us, the past—faded into nothing. There was only the taste of her, the pull of her, and the terrifying, beautiful truth:
She could bring me to my knees with just a kiss.
And I wanted her to.
I pulled her closer like I’d been waiting my whole life to do it.
My hands gripped her waist, tight, greedy—like if I didn’t hold her hard enough, she’d vanish. Her breath mingled with mine, warm and sweet and laced with fire. It poured straight into my lungs and ignited me from the inside out.
This wasn’t a kiss. This was a vow without words. A war ending mid-battle. A claim.
She moved against me, her hands slipping under my shirt, fingers brushing over bare skin—and fuck, I felt it. Every point of contact burned. I wasn’t built for softness, but she brought it out of me like a secret I didn’t know I’d been keeping.
I groaned, low and broken, the sound ripped straight from my throat as my body answered hers with a hunger I didn’t try to hide. I kissed her deeper, harder, needing her to feel what I couldn’t say. That I was real. That we were.
Everything else fell away.
The shelves. The floor. The air. Time.
Just her. Just this.
