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“Which one do you need?” Rowan’s arm extends above my head, bringing his chest almost close enough to brush the side of my face, and my breath hitches.
If Piper were here, she’d be teasing that it’s been too long since I had sex if a few simple touches are making my heart race, and she’d be right. But it’s not like the guys in this town are falling over themselves to date me.
Why would they when most of them think I’m a freak?
“That one.” I point to the year I believe is closest to when his mom would have attended junior high.
My pulse pounds erratically as I drag my gaze down the length of his body, pinning me between himself and the bookcase. But for as much as I hate tight spaces, I’m not afraid. I’m on fire.
Bracing one hand on the shelf behind me, he effortlessly removes the book and hands it over.
“Thanks,” I breathe, knowing damn well he caught me eyeing him this time.
My neck burns when he lowers his head, his lips mere inches from mine. “You said it’s not polite to stare.”
“I-I’m not staring.”
He lowers his voice as if to tell me a secret. “You don’t hide your thoughts quite as well as you think you do.”
I inhale shakily as his gaze zeroes in on my blabbering mouth. “Okay, yes. I was staring. I’m sorry, I?—”
The book falls from my hand with a thud, cutting off my thought. With his dark brows furrowed, and his body caging me in, he appears equally confused as I am. Like we’ve somehow slipped inside a pocket in time where logic not only doesn’t exist; it’s no longer welcome.
He lifts his thumb to my lower lip, lazily exploring the texture, and my lashes flutter with the force of arousal sweeping through me. The part of me that should be pushing him away is silenced by my own selfishness.
Never have I been revered like this. I’ve longed for this feeling of being truly wanted, and just this once, I’d like to believe I have the courage to kiss a man like Rowan.
“Do you make a habit of seducing strangers in the stacks?” Rowan asks huskily.
Mustering every drop of bravado in my body, I whisper, “Why don’t you kiss me and find out?”
A salacious smirk is the last thing I see before his free hand cups my cheek and his mouth hungrily covers mine. I don’t expect this uptight city boy to be gentle, but I admire the way he edges each frenzied, frantic kiss with delicate control.
Then again, did I really think he’d be sloppy?
No. Rowan’s kisses are nothing but perfection.
The notches of my spine grate into the metal shelving behind us, making it creak, and I moan when his fingernails scrape my scalp.
“Touch me,” he growls between our parting lips.
“Where?” I pant, trying like hell to keep up with his expert pace.
“Anywhere.”
I yank his shirt from where it’s tucked into his pants and glide my hands around his bare torso. Sinewy muscle ripples beneath my palms, contracting everywhere I explore. On a whim, I sweep my thumbs across his nipples, delighted with his hissing pleasure.
My fingers trace a path down the contours of his abdomen as if I’m playing a melody across his skin. Each touch evokes a different sound, and when I move lower to stroke his hard length, I discover my new favorite note.
“Fuck,” he whispers, visibly shuddering before dragging me into him.
My neck cranes back as he ravages my mouth, kissing me deeper, and excitement pounds through me when his tongue lashes mine, igniting my taste buds.
Soft breaths and tiny pleas for more escape me. Books clatter to the ground like raindrops at our feet when Rowan lifts me around his waist and his back smacks into the shelves behind him.
“This is crazy,” I huff. “I’m crazy.”
But it’s so damn good, I can’t stop. We’re all but eating each other alive, and it’s still not enough.
