She’d read a couple of them herself, and she seemed to like to talk about them. He kept up his end of the conversation as much as he could, rigorously keeping his eyes from sliding down lower on her body to the way her shirt clung to the swell of her breasts and her pants outlined the delicious curves of her hips and ass.
Damn, he wanted to touch her so bad. He wished it wasn’t true, but it was.
“So have you read your new books yet?” he asked, when it felt like the conversation was about to end. He didn’t want it to end yet.
“No. I mean, not those copies. I did start rereading the Betsy-Tacy books this weekend, but I read the paperbacks I already own so I don’t mess up the nicer copies.” She gave him an irresistibly slanting look. “I’m sure you think I’m crazy. Owning multiple copies of the same book.”
“Why would I think you’re crazy? They’re different editions, right? They have different covers and everything? I like to do model cars, and no one has ever thought it was strange that I have different models of the same car. If you love something, why wouldn’t you try to get as much of it as you can?” He was speaking earnestly. Sincerely. He wasn’t trying to impress her. In fact, he felt kind of young and stupid as he spoke.
But a softening on her face made it clear what he said meant something to her. “Yeah,” she breathed. “Maybe you’re right.”
He suddenly understood something. Josh, the asshole, must have made fun of her for owning multiple copies of the same book. He had to bite back a low growl of resentment toward the boy. “I’m definitely right. And don’t let anyone make you think differently.”
She smiled, and it was like the sun coming out behind a cloud. It took his breath away.
They were standing in the far corner of the room, blocked from everyone else by shelves of books. He was too close to her. He knew it, but he couldn’t make himself step back. He wasn’t sure what was in his face as he gazed down at her, but whatever it was made her flush and look downward.
Her eyes flicked up and then down again. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Like what?” His voice was too thick, but he couldn’t control that either. His breathing had accelerated. His body felt hot. Too big for his clothes.
“Like... like...” She peeked at him through her lashes. “Like you’re going to kiss me. Or... something.”
She licked her lips, and the slight gesture went right to his groin. His blood was throbbing in his veins, and he was aware of nothing in the world except Madeline and her deep spirit and quick mind and luscious body.
“And what would you say if I did?” He couldn’t believe he’d asked that. The low, textured lilt to the tone wasn’t like him at all.
“Did what?”
“Kissed you.”
He saw and heard her gasp. Her eyes flew up to his face. Her cheeks were deeply pink now. Utterly delectable. “I... don’t think I’d mind too much if you did.”
It took a moment for the words to register. Another minute for the flood of pleasure and pride and absolute awe to wash over him. But she’d clearly given him permission. She was responding to him too. He wasn’t likely to mistake the shallowness of her breathing. The way her nipples had tightened so much that he could see them jutting out through the fabric of her shirt. The way her pupils had dilated, darkening her eyes.
So good sense and long experience and a lifetime of making wise choices weren’t enough to hold him back. Not from something he wanted as much as this.
He leaned down, tilting her head up with one hand until he could meet her lips. He brushed them lightly, but the jolt of pleasure that shot through him blew any thought of taking it slow. He deepened the kiss hungrily, cupping the back of her head with his hand.
She made a little sound in her throat—soft and sweet and sensual—as she responded to the kiss. Her mouth opened to his tongue, and her hand lifted to curve around the back of his neck. She pressed her soft body against his with an intoxicating eagerness that left him hard as a rock in his pants.
Needing to feel even more of her, his other hand slid down until he could feel the curve of her ass. He rubbed her there shamelessly, loving how she made pretty moans of pleasure into the kiss—completely ignoring the fact that they were in the corner of a public library and anyone could walk back and catch them going at it like horny teenagers.
His hand moved some more until he was caressing the side of her breast through her top. He couldn’t get his hands on her the way he really wanted. She was wearing too many clothes. Plus they were in public.
He wasn’t sure what would have happened—he probably would have ended up doing something embarrassing and completely inappropriate—had Madeline not pulled away abruptly.
She stared at him with big, wild eyes, red cheeks, and mussed hair. She was panting loudly. She was so scrumptious he wanted to just swallow her down.
He figured he probably looked similarly aroused and affected. He was definitely hard—so much so it was almost painful. But she’d pulled away, so he kept his hands clenched at his side.
“Where did that come from?” she breathed at last.
“I... I have no idea.” He was telling her the truth. He’d always liked her and thought she was beautiful, and he’d never wanted her like that.
“I don’t... I don’t understand.”
With the sheer
