Instead of leading us out the door and out of the building, or even into the stairwell to talk, this bright spark has managed to take us into the stacks. It’s quieter back here, and the deeper we get into the aisles of books, the fewer people we pass.
I won’t lie—I’m trying to avoid Ares’s amused gaze, and the occasional strange glances from students at me hauling him away from the desks burn my skin, but I don’t stop until we’re at the farthest corner from everyone.
I drop my bag to the floor. My heart’s threatening to burst out of my throat, it’s speeding so fast. Screw my sweaty palms, screw my racing thoughts, and screw that delicious man and his delicious smile and his delicious Spanish… mouth… tongue… dammit, words.
I suck in a steadying breath, level him with my hardest glare, and fold my arms in a fruitless bid to protect myself from his charm. It’s time to find out what the heck this guy is playing at.
CHAPTER13
Eloise
“What exactly is it that you want from me?”
If he gives me a smug grin, or says something sarcastic right now I might… I… I dunno, maybe I’ll stand on his toe. Hard.
I’ve never raised my hand to another human being in all my life… so far. I’m not beyond starting if this guy doesn’t give me some answers and put my confused body parts at ease about whatever this is.
He sucks in a breath. I’m not sure if he’s taking a deep breath or if he’s smelling me, but considering how hard it has been for me not to bury my nose in his hair, or neck and just… sniiiiiff… I’m hoping he’s fighting a familiar urge.
The idea of his discomfort is suddenly something I want to grab onto and encourage. I want him to be as caught up in knots as I am.
He takes a step toward me, and his charged gaze flickers to my lips. “I thought you were lettingmeask the questions.”
I did too, but I guess things change when someone lights up your lady garden like it’s Christmas or something, and you can’t find the freakin’ off switch.
I narrow my glare even further. I might suffer from sometimes crippling anxiety, but that doesn’t make me a pushover.
“You want to know what I want from you?Realmente?”
My mouth is dry. I’ve made a few mistakes in the last couple of minutes. In my panic not to get kicked out of the library or leave the space and go somewhere else with Ares, I’ve isolated both of us in a dark, quiet part of the building. I’ve also asked a quite sexually charged question, and from the way his teeth are holding the right side of his bottom lip hostage as his eyebrow rises, he’s already a step ahead.
I manage a curt nod, needing answers. I can’t wander around campus with some sparkly distraction of a crush on a guy whose intentions I’m unsure of. I need to know what he’s playing at.
He takes another step toward me. I scooch back into something hard. It doesn’t feel like a shelving unit and there’s no sound of books tipping over, but at this point I don’t really care what it is.
He licks his lips before skimming the pad of this thumb across mine. “I want your every thought, every hope and dream, every fear, every kiss, every everything.”
“But why?” My voice is barely a whisper, squeaking out around the tension banded around my chest.
His thumb ghosts my jaw, and I tip my head back, leaning against the wall behind me on a sigh. I don’t understand.
“I want to know you, Eloise. I want to know every single thing there is to know about you, and I want to teach you things about yourself that you don’t even know yet.”
My brain is short circuiting. My body is aching for his touch.
“But why?” Maybe he didn’t hear me the first time. I can’t find any other words in my mind. I’m staring at his lips because I’m not sure I’m ready for whatever is waiting for me in his gaze.
“You fascinate me.”
My eyes close. I’m fighting the urge to jam my fingers into my ears and sing “la la la la la” over and over so I don’t have to listen to whatever else he has to say.
“You’re beautiful.”
My head twitches, shaking “no” at his words. His warm hand cups my neck and his thumb rests along the length of my jaw as he presses me into the wall. He glides his nose across my cheekbone and into my hair.
“Look at me.” His words are gravelly in my ear.
When I don’t open my eyes and he doesn’t move, he flexes his hand, squeezing enough to make me wonder how far he’d go. I’m not afraid, I’m not disgusted, and I’m definitely feeling something about the fact he has his hand on my throat, but it certainly isn’t anything bad.
