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Stepping inside, I follow as she leads me towards the romance section. “I could come here every day and never get tired of it.” She gazes starry-eyed over the shelves upon shelves of paperbacks, sliding her hand gently over the spines of the books. “I always thought there was something magical about the library in school, and I’ll never forget the first time I came over here and saw one of the books I worked on.” Her eyes are alive and have a far-off dreamy look.
“Show me.” Those two words hold a whole new meaning than they normally would coming from my mouth, but with just as much anticipation–hell, maybe more.
I follow behind as she leads me further into the romance section. There are covers of every color, with half-naked men and scantily clad women; some locked in an embrace that screams, “We’re about to fuck.” This is my kinda book.
“Here,” she whispers, running her finger down the spine before pulling it from the shelf. Nightly Calling by Emma Jane Sloan. “This was my first solo edit,” she adds, opening up the book and touching the spot that says her name.
“Very cool, angel,” I say, grabbing the book from her hand and flipping it over. “So, is this porn?” I ask, glancing at her with a knowing look.
“It’s romance. It’s a love story.”
“With sex.”
“The book isn’t about sex.”
“Yeah, but there’s sex in it.”
“So?”
“So, you read about sex,” I state bluntly, holding the book in my hand. Stepping closer, I whisper, “I bet it turns you on.” Her gasp echoes through the rows of porn (fine, romance) books. “Admit it.”
Turning and facing me head-on, those intoxicating green eyes stare straight at me–or into me, might be more accurate. “Fine. Yes, sometimes the scenes turn me on.”
“Damn, that’s hot,” I whisper, closing my eyes and picturing it.
“What are you doing?” she whispers back.
“Shhhh. I’m imagining you getting turned on in that office of yours, reading a dirty sex scene.”
“Stop!” she exclaims, hitting my shoulder. We both burst out laughing, big dopey smiles on our faces.
“I’m just kidding you,” I tell her, grabbing a piece of that silky hair and pushing it behind her ear. Leaning forward, I add, “I’ll wait to picture that tonight when I’m alone in my bed.”
Her eyes widen and her mouth practically drops to the floor. I love knowing that I evoke this kinda reaction from her. It makes me feel like it’s for me, and me alone. Almost like a super power, you know? No, I have no idea why guys always resort to their childhood and superheroes. They’re fucking cool, all right?
“Come on, sweetheart. Show me more.”
