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One hand next to my elbow, he bends down to pick up the book and laughs too. He comes back up and squares his hips inches away from mine and reads the cover out loud.
“Cowboy Christmas? Where’s the cowboy? We don’t dress like that. This guy looks like he’s never set foot on a ranch.”
He’s right. The guy on this cover looks more like a stereotypical librarian than a ranch hand. He’s got eyeglasses, a beanie, and wearing sneakers. Adriel should be on a book cover. Tan skin, abs peeking through an unbuttoned jean top. I can imagine what’s under that flannel, but shirtless would work too. Just from his fit physique and stance, anyone could tell he does something physical for a living. He clearly works on his ranch with more effort in the morning hours than most of us move all day. Top him off with a cowboy hat, and it would surely be a best seller. I’d buy it for the cover alone.
Pointing to the book between us, I say, “There’s a cowboy hat there. Even a hay bale next to his truck if you look close enough.”
Still towering closely over me, he says, “If this is what you have in mind about cowboys, then book boyfriends don’t always do it better. I could show you what a cowboy really does, if you want.”
I want.
Pushing off the table my back’s against, I know that if I step towards him, he’ll naturally sit on the chair behind him.
I do, and he sits.
Why is it so easy to flirt with him? It’s so easy to push past my hang-ups.
I put my hands on his shoulders and I wait to see what he does.
At this point, we could laugh it off. I could step back and make a joke. He could stand back up and reach for anther box of books to sort. It could be a misstep. A funny miscalculation.
Instead of either of those options, his eyes trace up my chest and meet my eyes. The desire in his eyes meets the fire in mine and he slowly reaches up the back of my thighs and rounds my hips to hold still. I move forward over his waiting hips and straddle his lap.
There’s no mistaking what’s happening. No confusion. Just clarity and leaps forward to make up for our slow start.
“What’s a cowboy really like?” I ask.
He widens his thighs, and grips around my thighs. Reaching under my butt, he tucks me tight against his hips.
Hand to my chin, he tilts it back and I automatically open my mouth by way of welcoming him in.
Lightly grazing over my lips, then jaw, and earlobe, he says, “First, we ask for permission. Is this okay?”
How does him asking for permission before anything happens turn me on even more? Adriel unlocks something feral in me and I make it clear that he has my permission. I ride his growing length under my hips, and the friction from riding him over his jeans is driving me wild. With a gravelly exhale by my ear, he moves backwards to kiss along my jaw and finds his way back in front of my mouth.
“Say it,” he commands.
“Take me.”
As sudden as a pouncing animal, he opens my mouth with his and stands up to wrap me around his waist. He walks me to the door and kicks the wooden wedge holding the door propped open, so it slams shut. I reach back and lock it.
Gripping my ass and locked around his waist, he walks us back to the center table while I unbutton his flannel and pull it off to find a ribbed, snug white tank top. He pushes a few boxes away from the edge to clear enough space for me to lie down and starts to pull up my shirt.
“Is this okay?”
“No one ever comes back here.” With my bra already exposed, I unclasp the front latch and he watches me spill out.
“You’re so beautiful, Jules,” he says catching my eyes before greeting my neck and moving further down to worship my breasts with his mouth, one at a time.
I tip back his wide brimmed black cowboy hat and place it on a box behind me so I can run my hands through his shorter, wavy hair. Just enough for me to grip between my fingers.
Without his hat, he reaches back over his shoulder to pull off his tight sleeveless top and hangs it over his shoulder. Taking it off reveals a tan chiseled chest, and even darker arms.
I’ve never had sex at work before. I’ve kicked kids out for kissing in the stacks. This is wildly unlike me, but I don’t want to stop.
Fingering every exposed area of skin comes with a new moment for approval.
I mutter yes over and over again, and glow from our immediate connection.
