Instead, Arthur produced a foil packet and a small travel bottle and tossed them, neat and accurate, straight at Caleb’s chest.
Caleb caught them on instinct. He looked down, then back up, his America’s Bachelor charm stalled in pure shock.
“Condom” Arthur nodded at the bottle. “Lube.”
April’s brain short-circuited. “You brought—”
“Supplies,” he said, like it was the most reasonable thing in the world to walk into a library and conduct a safety briefing.
His eyes met April’s. “You can say stop at any time.”
April couldn’t tell if this was permission or control.
Then his gaze shifted to Caleb.
“And if she says stop, you will stop.”
His hand moved to the door, the lock clicked into place. Nothing would interrupt unless he allowed it.
Caleb's throat bobbed. "Yes."
Arthur returned his attention to April, his expression unreadable but his authority absolute.
"Continue."
Her Heartland filter came up empty. There was no episode where the stern rancher walked in on the romantic lead with his hand up the innocent schoolteacher’s dress and said continue like he was giving notes on a rehearsal. This had left rom-com territory entirely and entered a genre April didn’t have a reference for; possibly because it didn’t air on networks with Standards and Practices departments.
Then he stepped back until his shoulders met the bookshelf on the opposite wall.
He didn’t leave.
He settled in.
Like he was staying.
April’s pulse kicked into a rhythm that had nothing to do with panic and everything to do with the fact that Arthur—order, control, the man who’d straightened her wrap and pressed his thumb to her lip like she was a problem that needed solving—was watching.
Caleb’s breath was warm against her ear. “Your call,” he murmured.
April realized he was waiting.
They both were.
Do I want this?
Yes.
The answer came fast, certain, thrumming through her with the same clarity she'd felt all day.
April stepped back into Caleb.
His hands tightened on her waist. A low sound escaped him. Tension radiated through the layers of his suit like restraint had been expensive and he'd just decided to stop paying for it.
“Good girl,” Caleb's mouth was against her ear, exhale ragged enough to make her skin prickle.
Then his mouth was on hers again, and his hands were everywhere, and April stopped thinking about what this meant and started cataloging sensations instead.
The silk of her dress sliding against her skin. Caleb's mouth traced a line down her throat, careful around the necklace Killian had sent. He didn’t touch it, like he understood it wasn’t his. He kissed above it, below it, working around the claim like he was respecting territory that wasn't his to mark.
