Page 72 of A Bookish Story

This is bananas. Totally nuts. This is not me. It’s not what I do, or how I roll. I’m not looking to jump into a relationship until I figure out a few things for myself. And I never make the first move, but my body isn’t listening to my far more lucid brain as he deepens the kiss. The tough bristles of his stubble against my skin are marking me. Changing me. Ryan knows what he’s doing. He kisses me with intention and passion. We are taking leaning to a whole new level, bodies pressed together hip to hip, tasting each other. And it’s thrilling, romantic, sweet and sexy. It’s everything.

But like any great writer, Ryan has words. He pulls back and presses his forehead to mine, his hand still in my hair.

“This is…not a good idea.”

My body screeches to a halt and catches up to my far superior brain. I don’t like these words but he’s right. Still, I’m the one who showed up on my employer’s doorstep. And here I am taking liberties with his mouth.

I take a step back, holding up my palms. “No. I’m sorry, you’re right.”

“I know.” He drops his hands to his sides and at least he sounds miserable while he’s turning me down.

Even so, a spike of humiliation shoots through me. That’s what I get for making the first move. He’s used to turning down advances.

“This must happen to you a lot. Sexy young professor, women making the moves on you.”

His eyes narrow. “No. It never has. There are clear boundaries I won’t ever cross.”

“No, of course not. I seem to have crossed them for you.” Shame presses down my shoulders, and my cheeks flush with heat.

“You can’t possibly think I didn’t want that to happen.” He looks down at me quizzically. “I almost kissed you myself.”

“Almost being the key word here. You didn’t. I did.” I turn in a circle, frustration bubbling out of me. “I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not sorry, Luci.” His arms are crossed now, perhaps creating the distance to keep me from attacking him again. “There’s never been anyone like you before and I don’t know how to handle this.”

I think of his beautiful ex, with the straight dark hair. “I’m just not your type.”

“You’re very much my type.” He makes air quotes. “But we’re not exactly on an even playing field. It would be unfair for me to take advantage of this situation.”

It’s big of him to take this stance, since I’m the one who initiated the kiss. He’s letting me off the hook.

“I understand. You’re my boss.”

“For now, yes. I’m also six years older than you.”

“So what? That’s nothing. It wouldn’t even rate that as an age-gap romance.”

He all but rolls his eyes at me. “And whether or not you realize it, you’re not available.”

I don’t correct the available part because I worry he’s right. I’ve been saying this to my mother, Sofia, and anyone who will listen. They don’t listen and apparently, my body isn’t even listening because it’s Ryan and he’s the exception.

This is my time. Time to stand up to the people in my life who’ve always wanted me to adhere to their ideas of who I am or who I should be. Thinner. Forgiving. Easygoing. Happy to settle for what I can get.

Maybe Ryan is on to something. With a marriage behind him, and an understanding of commitment I don’t have, he might be right.

“Do you need anything else before bed?” Ryan asks, interrupting my thoughts.

“No, I’ll be fine. Thank you,” I say and without another word I head to the guest room.

“Luci?” he calls out, and I turn just outside the door. “Sleep well.”

“Not a chance, but I’ll try,” I say before I open and shut the door.

CHAPTER 24

How do I sleep? Horribly, if you want to know the truth.

First, there’s the guest bedroom. If I’d thought I’d find pieces of Ryan in here, I was mistaken. This isn’t his home. It’s professor Henry’s, art collector extraordinaire.