Page 12 of Librarian & the Rockstar

My world would make her miserable. But some part of me wants to slot myself into her life like I have a right. I don't. I'm just the motherfucker who nearly ran her over.

For her sake, maybe that's all I should be.

"Dammit," I mutter, grabbing the soap to scrub up as frustration churns through me. I don't want to be a story she tells years from now. I don't want to be the rockstar she thought she was stranded with once upon a time. I want her to know me—really know me. And I want to know her, too.

It makes no fucking sense, but I want some piece of her to belong to me, some piece no one else has. And maybe I want her to have some piece of me that no one else has, either. I want to carry some part of her with me when I leave here.

And eventually, I have to leave here. I can't hide forever.

Truthfully, I'm not even sure why I came. I just knew if I didn't leave, I was going to snap. I was staring at a bottle of whiskey, thinking how nice it'd be to drown myself in it. That's a problem. A big fucking problem.

I don't want to be the guy who trips down that path. I've been there once, nearly lost everything because I let myself get so out of control, and I swore I wouldn't do it again.

So…I called the band, told them I was taking a hiatus, rented the cabin, and left. Now that I'm here, I feel calmer, less like I'm one sleepless night from throwing everything away just so I don't have to carry the shit any longer.

Loralei has a lot to do with that. Doesn't matter if I just met her. She excites me in a way nothing has in a long goddamn time. That means something. At least, it should.

I turn off the shower and grab a towel, wrapping it around my waist before I step out onto the fluffy rug. The mirror is fogged over, steam still swirling around the small bathroom. For a moment, I just stand there silently, trying to hear her moving around in the cabin, but it's quiet. Too quiet.

Did she slip out while I was showering?

A bolt of anxiety shoots through me at the thought.

I rip the towel off, stepping into a pair of sweats. I barely even drag the towel through my hair to dry it before I'm stepping out into the hall, eager to make sure she didn't disappear into the night while I was showering.

"Loralei?"

No answer.

I peek into the bedroom across the hall, but she isn't in there.

The light is still on in the living room, so I stalk that way, only to freeze in the doorway when I see her curled up on the end of the sofa nearest the fireplace. She's got her feet tucked up underneath her, her head resting on one hand. There's a book in the other, her eyes scanning across the page.

She's so absorbed in what she's reading, she doesn't even notice me watching her. I stare shamelessly, just drinking her in. Every few seconds, her lips move like she's mouthing lines to herself. After a minute or two, her cheeks turn pink, and she shifts restlessly, her thighs pressing together.

Interesting.

"What are you reading?"

She startles, her eyes darting to mine. The guilty expression on her face is fucking cute. So is the way she tries to hide her book behind her back, like if I can't see it, it doesn't exist. "Nothing," she lies. "I thought you were in the shower."

"Finished five minutes ago, baby." I prowl toward her, more intrigued than ever about what the fuck she's reading. "You were lost in your book. What's it about?"

"What book? I don't know what you're talking about." Her cheeks are bright pink now, her eyes darting from mine like if she doesn't look at me, she can keep living in her own version of reality where, apparently, there is no book, and I didn't just catch her reading something dirty.

"Uh-huh," I smirk, stopping in front of her. "So…I just imagined you getting all hot and bothered over whatever you were reading?"

"Yes."

"And I suppose I'm just imagining the paperback sticking out from behind you right now, too?"

She makes an adorable little squeaking sound, trying to shove the book beneath the cushion of the couch to hide it entirely. I'm quicker than she is, though. Mostly because I'm a curious motherfucker now.

What turns her on? What makes her thighs clench and her panties wet? I'm dying to know.

I bat her hand out of the way, snagging the book. I hold it up in front of me, reading the first line that comes into focus. "Get on your hands and knees and show me that pretty little p—"

"Give it back!" Loralei squeals, launching herself off the sofa. She hits me like a meteor, all flailing limbs and indignant squeaks, trying like hell to wrestle the book from my hands.