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“The horror is in the back corner,” Luna said, pointing.
“Really? Wouldn’t Aunt Peyton put that shit right up front?” I asked.
“She did. And the accidental side effect was a bunch of young people picked them up innocently and became scarred for life,” Luna said, shaking her head at our crazy, tattooed, pierced, larger-than-life aunt’s antics. “So I moved it back behind the romance which is somehow equally as disturbing to some of our patrons,” she said with a barely controlled eye roll.
“It’s probably all the monster fucking,” I teased, getting a smile out of her. “I’ll go see if anything sounds interesting,” I said, moving to walk away, only to have her stop me.
“Hope?”
“Yeah?” I asked, half turning back.
“Why are you wearing that dress?” she asked.
She’d caught me too off-guard.
There was no stopping the way my eyes widened at those words. No way to come up with a smooth lie fast enough.
“It’s a work thing,” I told her, shrugging it off.
“But you never wear dresses.”
“I never lost a fight with scaffolding until last week either. There’s a first time for everything,” I told her, plastering on a carefree smile, then turning and walking away like my heart wasn’t hammering in my chest.
I don’t know why it mattered so much that my family didn’t know about me being undercover.
Sure, they might worry.
But they always worried about me.
It was probably more that some of my cousins—like the romantic Luna—might get ideas about it. Get to thinking that my distaste for him would become some epic love story.
It wouldn’t.
I mean, sure, things had been a little… steamy. But that was just a close proximity thing. That was all.
It wasn’t going to happen again.
That was why I needed to get my head on straight.
With some good, old-fashioned mutilation book.
The problem was, I picked up three in a row that turned my stomach, and were likely going to give me some nightmares.
It wasn’t my fault that the tail end of the romance section shared a shelf with the beginning of the horror books.
Or that I found myself flipping open to a damn sex scene.
A good one, too.
A woman getting railed from behind over her boss’s desk.
I was just starting to understand why Luna and several of our aunts were so into these books. Because, within moments, I was out of the real world, and transported to some high-rise in New York City.
Until, of course, I felt this weird tingling sensation at the back of my neck. That little prickly feeling like you were being watched.
I jolted back to reality to find A leaning against the end cap, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.
Of course it was knowing.
The cover of the book was very naked-male-chest-heavy. I suddenly understood Luna’s fake book covers.
“Whatcha got there, mama?” he asked, lips twitching.
“Luna always recommends romance,” I said, putting it back on the shelf, feeling like I had blue tubes since I didn’t get to see any of the characters reach their climax, which was only going to make going back to his house more difficult.
Then, to my horror, he pushed off the end cap to swagger over toward me, reaching past me to get the book I’d just placed on the shelf, and flipping open to about the part I was at.
He flipped a few pages, then stopped, smirk getting wider.
His gaze cut to mine for a split second, then went back to the page.
And he started to read.
Out loud.
“‘His hands reached out, slipping under her skirt, and yanking off her drenched panties…’”
“Stop,” I demanded, voice low, looking around frantically for an excuse for him to shut up. Like a little old lady or a teenager nearby.
But there was no one.
“It’s a library,” he said. “I’m reading,” he added. “‘His hands sank into her hips, shifting her in front of his chair, pressing her back onto the desk, then lifting her thigh to place it on the arm of his chair, and slipping between her thighs…’”
“A, stop,” I demanded, hearing a slight breathlessness in my voice as my mind flashed back to him on his knees in the closet.
But he wasn’t listening.
“‘Gone were any objections, any beliefs that this was a horrible idea. Holly leaned back, bracing her hands on the back of the desk, a cup full of pens tipping over and spilling to the ground as Mikhail’s tongue teased over her clit.’ You good, mama?” he asked, shooting me a devilish little smile. “You look flushed.”
“I’m annoyed,” I told him.
“Annoyed?” he asked. “Or frustrated?” he added, leaning a little closer, knowing exactly what I was. And he was getting off on it.
“Annoyed,” I lied. “You are practically stalking me right now,” I told him.
“Looking for my missing employee isn’t stalking,” he insisted.
“Even employees get free time,” I shot back.
“Yeah, at scheduled times. Not in the middle of a shift.”
