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“No. I want to read something you love.” He takes the book and flips through a few random pages.
I want to kiss him so badly it hurts. To taste him. My midsection feels like tightened ribbons.
“Oh, this is interesting.” His voice is low, if not a little sardonic. “‘Serienna rocked her hips against the length of his velvet-wrapped steel as Damien—’”
“Oh my god.” I go for the book; my cheeks burn.
“Hey, I’m reading here.” Matthew uses his height to his advantage, pulling the pages up high. “‘Damien’s breath grew more ragged, but not once, no matter how overwhelming the pleasure of feeling her on top of him was, did he let go of his hold on the…’” He pauses, and shivers zoom down my spine. His erotic recitation sounds like one of my favorite audiobook narrators.“On the griffin?No way.”
Of course he opened right up to one of the sex scenes.
Universe, you’re a cruel beast.
“Let’s just pick another one,” I stammer.
“Are they, um?” His eyes flash with a hint of wickedness. “Having thisadventurewhile in the air?”
I can’t help but giggle, and I give up my attempts to get the book back. “It’s fantasy.”
“And what about you, Molly?”
“Me?”
Matthew shrinks some of the distance between us. The book pages press into his abdomen, and the cover onto my chest. His breath caresses the hot skin of my cheek.
Can he hear the way my pulse is pounding?
“What would you like to do on the back of a griffin?” His voice is low and seductive.
I bite my lip, trying to suppress a moan. An actual moan. Because I’m losing my mind.
Get a grip, Molly. The warning is pointless, because I only want to hold on to Matthew’s strong arms or broad shoulders.
I need a response. Preferably one that isn’t,I’d like to have you take me on the back of a griffin. Or in this library. Or in the bed we’ve shared for the past six nights. “Fly,” I manage through a rasp.
“And what makes you feel like you’re flying in real life?” He looks down at me, targeting me with his gaze.
My heart is about to plummet out of my chest.
You, I want to respond. I want to admit it earnestly.Can I?
No.
“I’m not sure,” I whisper.
“Be brave.” He bends forward. “Tell me. Could I do something to make you feel like you’re flying?”
The surrounding books seem to fade away, like ghosts disappearing into the night.
I’ve never made the first move. Should I right now?
Can I be bold and go after what I want?
I hesitate, as if I’m trapped in some kind of slow-motion spell. Then I spread my palm across his pec.
My body hums with need. And, boy oh boy, am I ready to fall apart.
Matthew reaches one of his hands to bracket my jaw. I’m small and vulnerable. Yet somehow so undeniably safe.
