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All of her books found their place on the shelves, neatly arrayed inside the shelves, sorted by classics and modern literature, just like I instructed. And there are so many shelves that there’s plenty of room for more books.
I lean against the door frame and watch as she walks toward the shelves, moving in slow and cautious steps while her eyes trail along the rows of books.
“You can rearrange them,” I dare to say, keeping my voice lowsoas not to startle her. “I just thought they deservedbetter than to be stacked against the wall.”
She doesn’t say a word, but suggests a subtle nod, still facing away from me as she lifts a hand the trail along the backs of her neatly lined-up books. Then she stops, turning her attention to the armchair and the coffee table, both placed right beneath the window. A smile tugs at the side of hermouthwhen she looks at the chaise lounge, too.
“You moved the sitting area in your bedroom to the window, so I thought you’d like it like this,” I explain. “I thought it would be nice for you to have a proper reading corner in the same room that hosts your books. Your own little library, one could say.”
She’s still moving with her back to me, not showing any form of reaction to my words. Coming to a halt in front of the side table, she bends down to pick up the present I laid out for her.
“Oh, that’s just... since you seem to like Salinger, I thought you might enjoy this, too,” I say. “I enjoyed it a lot. Similar themes, very different prose, if you ask me. I’d like to hear your thoughts on it.”
I’m not even sure if she’s listening to me right now. She’s holding the book in her hands, reading the blurb on its back, seemingly unaware of my presence.
“You don’t have to read it, of course,” I go on. “You’re not bound to do so by contract.”
I’m trying to lighten the mood, and successfully so, it seems. She chuckles, as she puts the book back on the table. I don’t know what to expect when she finally turns around to face me, but the tears in her eyes surprise me nonetheless. She looks up at me, one hand placed on her chest while the other remains clenched into a fist, as a silent stream of tears rolls down her flushed cheeks.
“What’s wrong?” I want to know. “I’m sorry if I messed them up. You can rearrange your books however you want. We can also bring them back into your bedroom, if you prefer. I wasn’t trying to—”
I’m cut off mid-sentence when she jumps at me out of nowhere. She wraps her arms around my neck and gets up on her toes to silence me with an unforeseen kiss.
Chapter 27
Kat
I’m bereft of words, and possibly for the first time in my life. My own library! He built me my own library! No one has ever done anything for me that would come even close to this generous act.
Why would he do this? Why would he care so much about someone like me? I’m no one, nothing compared to him! I didn’t even say anything about the lack of shelves in my room. But he saw the missing shelves and he decided to give me something I’d never have asked for myself.
I can’t stop the tears, not even now that my lips are connected to his, engaging in a greedy kiss. I felt so vulnerable after the day I’ve had, Mrs. Warden telling me that she’s horrifically sick and I’m supposed to just watch her suffer, because she doesn’t know that I could help her.
I didn’t even have time to fully process that information, before Patrick swung back into my life like a damn jackhammer, unraveling me with his insulting accusation. I still can’t make sense of him or his actions, but I don’t want to think about it right now.
Not after Logan did this wonderful thing for me. He said he wanted to surprise me by picking me up, and I yelled at him, because I was so shaken from everything that happened before—but now I understand. He did this wonderful thing for me and was probably looking forward to the moment I would set eyes on his present. He created heaven for me, and he even piled on by sharing a personal recommendation. He wants to hear my thoughts about a book he liked. No one has ever appreciated me like this.
No one.
“Why did you do this?” I breathe as I break our passionate kiss. My hands are still wrapped around his strong neck, my vision blurred by tears as I catch his eyes with mine.
“You needed shelves for your books,” he responds in a matter-of-fact tone. “It was nothing, really. I don’t use this room, anyway.”
“No,” I object. “This wasn’t nothing. This is the most beautiful thing anyone has ever done for me.”
He chuckles, a somber shadow blending with the sternness in his expression, before his lips curve into a smile.
“Thank you,” I add, planting a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you for this.”
He looks confused for a moment, meeting my gaze with a look that’s hard to read.
“You’re welcome,” he says in a low voice, tightening his embrace around me. “You’re very welcome.”
We hug each other, frozen in time as neither one of us moves, his fast heartbeat palpable against my chest as I inhale his alluring scent.
I lose my grip around him and begin to caress the back of his neck, barely touching him as the tips of my fingers trail along his backbone. Lifting myself up on my toes, I push my breasts against him as I claim another kiss. His stance tenses for a second, before he reacts. He leans into my touch, his hand firmly pressed against my lower back as we inch closer in each other’s embrace. His aroused hardness pokes against my belly and I welcome it with a sigh.
“Fuck me,” I breathe into our kiss. “Please.”
