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“Wait,” he says, but he only stops me so he can neatly fold his pants on top of his dress shirt.
I’m grinning as he pulls me towards the couch, and a wave of heat courses through me when he unzips my skirt. It falls to the floor, and he pulls me onto his lap.
“I’ve dreamed of this,” Bryan whispers reverently as I straddle his hips.
“So have I,” I admit, my breath quickening as he slides his hands up my thighs towards my red lace panties.
The thought of him picturing me, like this, is a huge turn on. Especially since I may or may not have touched myself while thinking about him. Okay, fine. I definitely did, over a dozen times.
“You’re so hot, Jane,” Bryan whispers. “I don’t think I could ever get enough of touching you.”
He rubs his thumb over my panties, grazing my clit through the lacy fabric, and I gasp.
He groans and does it again. “You like that?”
“Oh, yes.” I moan. “Please, I need more.”
He slowly runs his thumb along the lace. “How much more?”
I moan and hold on to his shoulders for dear life.
He groans. “Kiss me, Jane.”
I press my lips against his as he touches me. I pour all the need and desire I feel for him into that one kiss, but it’s not enough. I need him to really touch me, without these stupid panties in the way. And I need to touch him.
I slip my hand inside his boxers, squeezing his hot, hard length.
Bryan groans and throws his head back. I marvel in the power I have over him as I run my hand up and down his cock. But the moment he slips a finger inside my panties, I forget what I’m doing and focus on his touch.
Bryan knows exactly where to touch me. He rubs small circles around my clit, and I let out a loud moan, the sound echoing through the library.
And then, I lose myself in the pleasure building between my thighs.
Bryan rubs my clit, and I let out a cry that he swallows with his lips. With each swipe of his thumb, he brings me closer and closer to release. My moans get louder, and he covers my lips with his, swallowing the sounds.
I pump his cock again, harder and faster, as pleasure burns through my body, down to my very toes. And then I shatter in his arms, my eyes glued to his, the large floor-to-ceiling bookshelf serving as a backdrop behind him.
Bryan flips us, so my back is on the couch and he’s on top of me. “Don’t move.”
His eyes fill with panic, and he jumps to his feet and rushes out of the library.
JANE
What the heck? Was it something I did? Something I said? Something I didn’t say?
I replay every moment in my mind—down to my orgasm—and the only thing I can think of is that I didn’t make him come.
Should I go after him? Or get the hell out of here? I’m still trying to decide when Bryan runs into the room with a familiar romance novel.
“Success!” he says, holding it high in the air.
“I’m confused,” I say, staring at his paperback copy of The Duke’s Forbidden Love by Abigail Cameron.
Bryan opens the book and shows me that it’s hollow and filled with condoms.
“You are…” I try to think of a word and settle on, “singular.”
He rubs the back of his neck. “I store a lot of things in books. So when I saw this hollowed out copy on sale in town…” He shrugs and gestures at the condoms.
