Page 92 of Praising the Pitcher

“That I want to take you right here in this library?” He takes a step forward, and I cling to my books harder. “Yes, yes I do.”

I can’t believe what he’s suggesting. But then, dampness pools between my legs as I let the thought sink in. Like, really sink in.

To be honest, I love the scenes in my books when they have sex somewhere risky and where they could be caught. When my eyes fly across the page as they describe their hearts beating, scared someone will walk in and catch them, my heart pumps too.

It sounds ridiculously sexy but is also the definition of living on the edge. And anyone who knows me knows I’m not good at living on the edge. In fact, I sort of like the opposite. Sure, Noah came into my life and made me less of a creature of habit, but I still stay firmly between the lines.

“You too scared, Smoke?” he drawls, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

Noah likes to push me past my limits, and while it often infuriates me, I’ve never felt more comfortable in my own skin than I do now.

Him making me say what I want during sex, demanding I tell him what I crave and stepping out of my comfort zone … it’s what I need.

What I’ve always needed, really.

“Kind of,” I admit, knowing I can tell him anything. I know he’d never judge me.

He takes a step forward, reaching for my face, his fingers holding my chin.

“The cameras are off. It’s just you and me. My cock is steel, and I bet your pussy is soaked …” His eyes dance between mine. “Do you think I’d ever let another person see what’s mine?” He shakes his head. “Fuck no, baby. We’re safe here. But it’s still … thrilling. Or, it could be. If you want it to be.”

He’s right. The cameras are off and no one else is going to come back in here until tomorrow morning. My whole life, I’ve been a rule follower, yet here Noah is, challenging me to loosen up.

I think about it, no doubt looking lost in my own world, before finally, I shock us both when I reach forward and run my hand over the bulge in his jeans.

He wasn’t kidding. He really is hard as steel.

I quirk an eyebrow, an amused look on my face before I set the two books in my arms down.

“Deal. But you better make it good, King.” I stand tall and press a kiss to his cheek, then continue along his jaw. “I’m not going to risk losing my job for a bad fuck …”

Who the hell am I?!

Within seconds, he’s got my wrist pinned to the shelf behind me and his body is crowding mine to the books. His mouth hovers over mine, but he doesn’t kiss me.

“Bad fuck? Are you forgetting how many times I’ve made you come?” He tsks me. “You know, as much as you love your book boyfriends, I realized I have something in common with those men in your books.” He winks. “I mean, aside from having a huge dick.”

I roll my eyes, but heat fills my cheeks because I can admit … his dick is big.

And perfect.

And unlike my book boyfriends … real.

“Okay nosey Nelly, what would that be?” I say, cocking my head to the side. He’s always trying to peek at the pages while I’m reading. We could be buddy readers, but I think I’d die of embarrassment.

“We both love to eat.” He smirks. “And if I recall, in one of your more recent books, the girl wore a sexy little skirt.” He fumbles the hem of my skirt. “And she ended up getting her pussy eaten on a bar. Now, I have no bar, but I do see the librarian’s desk.” My eyes bug out of my head from his words, and he narrows me with a hard gaze. “And before you say no, we both know she’s fucking mean.”

The head librarian here is mean. Really mean. I’m not sure finding out my boyfriend went down on me on her desk would make her any nicer, but it does sound tempting.

Noah kneels and glides his hand up my legs and to my thighs. He doesn’t touch my heat, though I so badly wish he would. Instead, he grabs my panties and yanks them down, pushing my shoes off along the way.

Bringing them up where I can see, he swiftly stuffs them in his pocket. “Now, why don’t you be my good girl and follow me to her office, hike that sexy skirt up and let me bury my face between your thighs.”

Everything inside me is saying not to do this—that it’s incredibly stupid and also … disrespectful. And yet, when I think about how mean the owner of said desk is, I find myself grabbing Noah’s hand and tugging him in that direction.

Dear Lord, what have I become?

NOAH