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Moving in between her spread legs, letting her feel the hard-on I still had for her, I tugged at the blanket, and she released it, baring her body to me. Her pretty breast was still exposed, but I looked only in her eyes as I adjusted her bra, covering her. “Noted.” I winked. “Now, get cleaned up. Daddy’s got work.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SAMANTHA
Fair’s for fools?
What did that even mean? I tried to contemplate the ridiculous thing Frank had said as I pulled my emergency eyeliner from my purse after Frank dropped me at the library. There was a blow-dryer around here somewhere. Maybe under the sink in the downstairs restroom.
God, that man. He was infuriating.
We weren’t allowed to have sex yet, but he could penetrate me with every other appendage of his body? Just not his dick?
What was the damn difference?
And it was frustrating that he could read me so well already. He’d noticed my change of mood in the parking lot last night without me even saying a word.
But I hadn’t wanted to disappoint Frank, and I didn’t want to tell him the truth because I was ashamed of my past. It made me feel like I’d failed at life before I’d even really lived it. Would someone like him want me, someone with so much experience as he’d said? Could Frank really want me if he knew the truth? Me, the poor, immature, barren librarian?
What the hell could I even offer him?
Five minutes ago, I was in denial that a relationship could even work between a forty-nine-year-old man and a thirty-year-old woman, and now I was searching for a reason that it could, even though he made me insane sometimes. He thought he was so cute—“Daddy’s got work.” Ugh!
Plenty of people had successful, non-“daddy” age-gap romances. All I had to do was look to the books I loved so much. Jo March and Professor Bhaer in Louisa May Alcott’sLittle Women had a huge difference between their ages. Huge!
But maybe it was smarter for me to find a reason to end this… whatever this thing was between us.
Before he could find out that I was inadequate.
And how dare he try to protect my… Wait. What exactly are you complaining about here, Sam?
My phone buzzed on the check-in desk behind me, and I grabbed it, then sank into a reading chair by the window with one of the veggie breakfast burritos José had so kindly delivered to the cab of Frank’s truck when we pulled up in front of the diner, with orange juice and a cream cheese Danish, which Frank had said he’d ordered in case I wanted “sugary crap instead of nutritious food for breakfast.”
I watched an elderly couple as they walked down Franklin Street holding hands, crunching carefully through the snow on the sidewalk, as I answered my phone, wishing I had a sweater or a blanket. Man, the library was cold. “Hey, Juni.”
“What’s up with you? Where’ve you been? Are you opening the library today? It’s book club, right?”
“What time is it?” I looked around for one of the five thousand clocks on the library walls, forgetting there was one on my phone.
“It’s only nine.”
“Yeah, I just got to work. The roads are already clear.”
“Oh. Cool. You sound disappointed though. Were you hoping for a snow day?”
I paused. I knew if I told her about last night, she’d flip a stitch, but I really needed to talk this out. “I stayed at Frank’s last night.”
“Oh my God, you did? Wait. I thought you said it wouldn’t work between you two.”
“I did say that.”
I fidgeted with the hem of my shirt until I realized I was still wearing the same clothes I’d worn to Frank’s house last night. I’d changed back into them after I’d taken a shower using his shampoo and soap. I basically stood under the spray of the water, letting the warmth coat my skin, sniffing his toiletries until I was satisfied, like I was filling a reservoir to keep me drowning in Frank’s scent until I could see him again. I’d barely had a chance to wear my skirt before I changed into the long johns he’d provided, so it was still clean, but I needed to change my underwear at least. Good thing I kept a change of clothes in a closet upstairs. Not that I’d ever anticipated a walk-of-shame emergency clothing-change situation, but I was kind of proud of myself for being prepared for it anyway.
“But then I got to know him a little.”
“Did you go on another date?”
“Kind of.”
