"These are all first editions," Phoenix explains, running his fingers along the spines. "Signed copies. My mother's been collecting them for decades."
I move through the room in awe, touching the books reverently. "This is incredible. Your mother has amazing taste."
"She does. In books."
I pull out a volume carefully, recognizing the title with a thrill of excitement. "Is this a first edition of Rebecca? Signed by Daphne du Maurier?"
"You know it?”
"I'm a writer. Books are kind of my thing." I open the cover carefully, reverently, and see the signature scrawled across the title page. "This must be worth a fortune."
"Probably. But my mother would never sell it. She says books are meant to be loved, not traded."
I look at him, this man whose family owns priceless first editions and California mansions. "I didn't expect that. From your family."
"We're full of surprises."
Our eyes meet across the room. The fire crackles softly. The party feels very far away.
"Phoenix," I start to say.
"Yes?"
"We should probably go back."
"Probably."
Neither of us moves.
And then, somewhere in the distance, I hear footsteps approaching down the hall.
CHAPTER 6- JADE
He kisses me before I can finish my thought.
It starts soft, tentative, his lips barely brushing against mine. A question more than a statement. We're in his parents' house, surrounded by priceless first editions, with a hundred wealthy guests mingling just down the hall. Anyone could walk in. Anyone could see.
But then his hands slide into my hair and he tilts my head back and the kiss deepens into something that makes my knees weak. I forget about the party and his parents. I forget about everything except the taste of him, champagne and mint and something darker underneath that's purely Phoenix.
My back hits the bookshelf and I hear something shift on the shelf above me, a book sliding out of place, but I don't care. His body presses against mine, solid and warm, and I can feel how much he wants me through the thin fabric of my dress. My hands find his shoulders, his neck, the soft hair at the nape of his head. I pull him closer, needing more.
"We shouldn't," I gasp between kisses, but even as I say it, I'm arching into him.
"Definitely not." His voice is rough against my ear as he trails his lips down my neck, the sensitive spot where myshoulder meets my throat. His fingers find the strap of my dress and slide it off my shoulder, exposing bare skin to the cool air of the library.
"Someone could come in."
"Then we'll have to be quiet."
I know I should stop this. We really should.
But his mouth is on my collarbone now, hot and demanding, and his hands are sliding up my thighs under the hem of my dress, and I can't think straight. I can't think at all.
He lifts me suddenly, his hands gripping my hips, and sets me on the antique reading table in the center of the room. The wood is cool against my bare thighs as he steps between my legs, spreading them to make room for himself. I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him down for another kiss, deeper this time, more desperate.
"Phoenix," I breathe against his lips, though I'm not sure if it's a warning or a plea.
"Shh." He cups my face in his hands, his eyes burning into mine.
