“Since college, at least seriously,” I answer, because he’s just waiting patiently, like we have all night. He’s in charge of opening and closing the library—I guess we do have as long as we want. “So, seven years? Eight?”
“That’s a good number.”
A smaller shiver goes down my spine. “I hadn’t thought about this being my seventh year.”
I bite my lip to keep from saying something totally inappropriate about how I mostly feel hot, overwhelming attraction right now so thinking or doing any kind of math is hard. Finley’s hand is still on my lower back as if he’s forgotten that he’s touching me or he wants to touch me so badly that he can’t bring himself to stop.
“This is beautiful tonight,” I say finally, the words sounding high and breathless. “I love the indoor picnic by candlelight.”
“The picnic comes later.”
“Oh? So we’re…using the blanket first?” The words slip past my lips before I can stop them.
His eyes flicker with amusement once again and then he says, “The surprise will be better if we’re sitting down.”
Oh, God. Are we going to make out on the blanket? Did he bring a blanket and cushions and candles into this little back room so we could make out? That would be…amazing.
If the intention I put out into the world has opened his mind to the possibility that I might be into him as much as he’s into me. Light goosebumps start at my wrists and go up to my shoulders.
I can feel it again—that tension between us. If it had a sound, it would buzz like the lights in the library usually do. There’s no buzz to distract us right now, though, and the small room is so quiet that I can almost hear my own heart beating.
“After you.” Finley holds out the hand that’s not on my back, and I nod to him, smiling reflexively, my face hot. It’s an easy path to the blanket, and when I lower myself down, I discover there is more than one blanket, all folded to make it more comfortable.
He sits down across from me, and I can’t help remembering how close we were in the aisle before. He’s closer now, his knees almost touching mine. The scent of his cologne fills my lungs.
My fingers itch to touch him again so badly. I ring them around each other instead.
That, I think, would be the real proof. Touching skin to skin and not over clothes. That would tell me what I desperately need to know about this mysterious, quiet man who knows about witches and covens and history and might even have cast his own spell.
That makes my breath stutter for a second or two.
Our intentions have to be aligned, don’t they? Otherwise my tires would’ve gone flat or someone would’ve rear-ended me on the way here or the power outage would have been a disaster and not a bump in the road.
And Finley wouldn’t have waited so long. He’d have come to the conclusion I ghosted him and gone home for the night.
But he didn’t, and nothing stopped me, and now I’m here. Now we’re here.
Finley looks me in the eye. And one last time my heart flickers from the intensity of his gaze. “Ready?”
Chapter Five
Finley
I’ve never felt more obsessed with Hazel than when I go to a shelf that’s mostly hidden in shadow to get a stack of books I chose. Her presence is heady. All-consuming even. I’m not sure if it was the wait, the doubt that she wasn’t coming, or merely the anticipation of what’s to come. The excited desire overrides even my need to breathe.
And the stolen glances she gives me. With a beautiful blush on her cheeks after being caught in the cold rain. My god. She is gorgeous and tempting in every way. It’s making me crave more from her. I want to touch her skin, not just her clothes, and it’s unbearable.
Silently, I scold myself. Pull it together.
When I turn around again, the flames on the candles waver slightly, almost like a breeze came through the room. A breeze wouldn’t shake the flames like that. I move with nervous anticipation. It feels as if everything is waiting for her pleasure.
This room has never felt quite like this before. Not even when the spirits were at their most restless. I call upon the magic here to impress her. I need to impress her tonight. For her to fall for me as I’ve fallen for her.
Clearing my throat, I shake my head to rid the thought. No woman has ever made me feel this way. This delicate balance of showing her all of me that I’ve not shown others while also needing her to accept it. I’ve never cared for the approval of others, but tonight feels different.
Hazel’s gorgeous face glows in the candlelight. She has her knees drawn up to her chest, and she’s watching me with beautiful doe eyes. It feels like a long walk back to the blanket, though it’s only a few steps.
“Those are not books in a way,” she says as I lower myself back down to the blanket. “Those are books literally.”
