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On the walk to the library, Anya takes my hand and smiles up at me. “I guess I should enjoy the good meals while they last. It’s going to be crappy campus food from here on out.”
Again, there’s an uncomfortable pang below my neck, much like guilt. “Only one hour in the library, Anya. I want to stay on schedule.”
She glances up at the giant clock on top of the library. “Freshman orientation isn’t until tomorrow night. We have until then to move me into the dorm.” She sends me a saucy wink. “No sweat, right?”
No sweat? Moving her into a place full of strangers with bad judgment and a horny man – child trying to get laid around every corner? This is what she considers no sweat? There is only one way for me to retain my sanity, and it doesn’t include leaving her to sleep in a place where I cannot guard her.
When I don’t answer, questions appear in Anya’s eyes, but I quickly usher her into the library. Her intake of breath distracts me from my dark thoughts, replacing them with appreciation over her reaction. There’s a beam of sunlight streaming in through a second – story stained – glass window, and it lands on the angel, making her glow even brighter. She presses her fingers to her lips and turns in a circle, taking in the sweeping marble staircases and endless rows of books on either side.
I only have eyes for Anya, because surely there is no greater creation on this earth. The fates could not truly expect me to let her go. No. It would be impossible. I would go insane.
I’m doing the right thing. The only thing.
My voice is gruff when I find it. “The fiction section is downstairs. To your right.”
Her lips tilt at the evidence that not only did I plan in advance to bring her here, but I did my research. For her. Everything for her. “I think I’ll take a look upstairs first.”
When she climbs the marble staircase, her backside twitches right to left, turning my bloodstream into a river of fire. She casts a look back at me over her shoulder, and I know she’s up to something.
But hell if I can do anything but follow.
Anya
Turnabout is fair play, right?
Sasha has stroked my hormones like a harp player for the longest. I’ve lived for his grudging smiles and grunts of approval. I’ve woken up hot and sweaty because his lips accidentally grazed my earlobe during a hug, turning my dreams into graphic movies starring him. And me. It has not been easy living on the razor’s edge of something I don’t fully understand but am eager to learn about. And yes, maybe plotting to seduce him in a public library is a little impulsive. After all, he all but told me we’re going all the way tonight. Mere hours from now.
A hot shiver passes through me as I turn down the darkened self – help aisle, Sasha’s boots thudding heavily on the marble behind me. I don’t want to wait for tonight. This attraction ran thick between the both of us, so I’m kind of pissed that he kept me at a distance while I was suffering. We both had needs — Sasha had no right to file it under his stubborn terms.
Maybe the politician’s daughter is coming out to play, because I feel compelled to take back a little of the control he didn’t see fit to allow me. I’ve been handled by my handler, and I don’t appreciate knowing how much time we’ve wasted.
Sasha thought I was playing games with him before? He ain’t seen nothing yet.
I find what I’m looking for and stop, pointing to the top shelf. “Sasha?” He’s suddenly so huge beside me in the dim lighting, his tightly leashed control beginning to show signs of strain, it takes me a moment to continue. “Can you reach up and get me the big red one? The one with gold lettering on the spine?”
He seems surprised by my request, but complies. And I have the satisfaction of watching one dark eyebrow hop toward his hairline when he reads the title. “The Kama Sutra, Anya?”
I step between Sasha and the shelf and slowly unbutton his signature black overcoat. Listening to his breath accelerate, I run a finger down his chest and stomach, feeling pretty smug when he groans. “I thought I could use some pointers for tonight.” My index finger hooks in his waistband of his dress pants and tugs. “Don’t you want me to be…ready?”
“I will put you in the positions that will bring you the most pleasure,” Sasha rasps, reaching over my head to slide the book back into its slot. “You will not need such pointers.”
“Because you’re going to teach me.”
Pinpricks of sweat appear on his brow. “This is so.”
