I can’t help but chuckle. “And here I was thinking we’d kiss long before having this conversation.”
“Knowing compatibility is important,” Isaac counters, staring at where our hands are locked.
I give him a squeeze, waiting until he meets my eye. “You promise me a kiss, and I’ll promise to fuck you so good you forget what your legs are for.”
He blows out a breath. “Library Guy, you’re just full of surprises.”
I bark a laugh that has Isaac grinning in response. He glances around the shop again, not in a worried way, like he’s concerned about being caught holding hands with another man. Simply as if he’s trying to realign himself with reality.
I understand how he feels.
Part of me was certain Isaac and I wouldn’t have the chance to start before ending. Not everyone is okay with the idea of their partner being public in such an…intimate way. And Isaac struck me as the jealous type, based on the night at the bar.
The fact that he’s only jealous of where my affections lie?
I couldn’t have asked for a better outcome.
“Tell me something honest,” Isaac says, his hands slipping from mine as he sits back in his seat.
“Something honest?”
He nods.
Does he mean from the heart?
I let my gaze drift over his face. The sharp cheekbones and freckles bridging across his nose like a trail I want to follow. The curl of his hair over the tip of his ear, the red seeming too impossible a color to be real. The hollow at the dip of his throat, where the vibrations of his voice would tickle my lips. “They say peace is quiet, but I don’t think that’s true. It’s a roar. A battle cry. Peace comes in the consummation of all we fight for. I would burn to find a moment of peace with you.”
Isaac lets loose a breath. “What’s your last name?”
“Slade. Why?”
“I think I should know the name of the man I’m dating.”
My smile breaks free again. “Is that right?”
Isaac holds out his hand. “I look forward to knowing you, Trevor Slade.”
Clasping my hand with his feels like more than agreement. It’s a match, struck and lit.
“How soon do you have to go?” Isaac asks, the warmth of his palm leaving mine. “Do you have classes today? Work?”
“Little of both,” I tell him. “But I have a few more minutes before I should leave.”
He nods, licking his lips. When he grabs his trash and stands, I follow.
Isaac walks a short ways down the sidewalk, not saying a word before he steps into the wide entrance of a parking garage. There’s a slight echo to our steps until he stops and turns my way.
“I’m sorry it’s here,” he says, almost breathless, “but I’m not waiting for tomorrow.”
I don’t have time to ask any follow-ups before Isaac’s hand is curling around the back of my neck and tugging. I willingly follow his draw, and the moment Isaac’s lips fit against my own, I swear I can feel it. The burst of energy and fire.
One of my hands cradles his back as the other catches against the concrete wall, slowing our momentum as Isaac tugs me in closer. Our lips part for only a second as he bumps into the surface, and then he’s on me again.
It’s nothing short of what I expected. Hot and biting and unapologetically demanding. And when I don’t fight it? When I force Isaac’s mouth open and slide my tongue against his? I could live on the sound that tears out of his throat.
Isaac wrenches his mouth away when tires screech somewhere inside the parking garage. He inhales great big lungfuls of air, his red locks falling disheveled over his forehead, his mouth so tempting it’s difficult to stay away.
His ragged sentiment mirrors my own. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I knew you’d be trouble.”
