Zelda
The guy across the counter gives me a look, and I realize I’ve been staring at his dark, leather-like jacket for a beat too long instead of scanning the book he’s trying to check out.
“Sorry,” I say with a little smile. “My thoughts got away from me.”
He doesn’t look anything like Sawyer. He’s a middle-aged man who’s trying to check out—
“This is a great one,” I say as I draw it over the scanner and reach for the receipt that prints out. “I used it once for the brownie recipe near the back. Really killer stuff.”
He gives me half a smile. “Thanks for your help.” Then he takes the book from my hands and hustles out of the library.
Shit.
It’s been happening all day. Somebody comes in wearing something that reminds me of Sawyer, and I’m right back in that foolish dance club again, eyes locked on his, my entire body throbbing at the thought of touching him.
Which is ridiculous.
I don’t know who he is, but I know he’s not very nice, and I know he’s not the kind of guy I’d want to bring home to my parents. He’s what they’d call very risky and they’d be right about it.
I don’t want risky.
I don’t.
But that’s not what dominates my thoughts all the morning at the library.
While I’m shelving books in the romance section, a cover model with dark hair catches my eye.
He doesn’t have Sawyer’s blue eyes, but he does have a similar physique.
At least, he has the kind of physique I think Sawyer probably has hidden underneath his clothes.
I flip to the middle of the book and scan a few pages, which lands me right in the middle of a sex scene. The space between my legs still hums in recognition, despite my unforgiving attitude while I’m speed reading.
I slam it into the shelf as harshly as I can without causing a scene, then move on to the next title.
It’s so foolish to be thinking of some guy I met in the club.
He said, what, five sentences to me, and here I am…
You’re staying with me.
Carly was not happy with him when we left the club. She didn’t care about Eva’s invite to another club. She just wanted to get away from him.
“All the guys here suck,” she said into my ear.
He wasn’t nice.
He was arrogant and sure of himself and he looked like he wanted to bend me over the bar.
Which—God.
I shelve a romance novel with a brooding man on its cover, leather jacket, arms crossed over his chest, glaring out at me from the front of the book.
“Luke Killroy isn’t a good man,” I read on the back.
“He’s a member of Chicago’s underbelly, a crucial player in a crime ring so vast that even the police can’t begin to control it. Until he meets Emily Singer…”
I press my thighs together and shelve the book, trying to ignore a heated new slickness forming between my legs. I don’t care about Luke Killroy and his crime syndicate in the big city.
All I can think about is the possession in Sawyer’s eyes.
I abandon the cart of books and head toward the back of the huge collection area and push open the double doors.
There’s a hallway with a set of pristine bathrooms there that almost nobody ever uses, and the other side of the hallway leads to a pair of big meeting rooms. No meetings are booked for the short shift on Saturday, so there shouldn’t be anybody around.
The motion-activated light clicks on when I press open the bathroom door. Confirmed: nobody’s in here. I go to the last stall and lock the door behind me, breathing hard.
This is wrong to do at work.
But I can’t take it anymore.
If I don’t do something, I think my skin is going to catch fire from thinking about him. If I can get this out of my system, I’ll be able to focus during the last three hours of my shift. I’ll be able to leave his face behind, in the club, in the past, where it belongs.
I press one hand against the wall and lift my navy blue dress up over my hips. I’m not wearing tights—it’s almost summer, and the dress falls above my knees—and there’s nothing between me and core but my panties.
The rest of my muscles tense when I slip my fingers down past the waistband, my fingertips finding my clit, but on the first circular rub, my entire body relaxes.
God, I need to get laid. I need to get out of here, out of this job, out of this town…
But right now, Sawyer’s face swims up into my memory, the lights of the club illuminating it in bursts, his eyes sending sparks down my spine, the thought of his hard body making me wet, wet, wetter…
The heat between my legs grows with every movement of my hand, and I spread my legs wider, giving myself more room. Sawyer with his hands on me, Sawyer with his body pressed up against mine, Sawyer whispering filthy things into my ear while he—
I gasp. I’m so close. I need another…few…seconds…
The main bathroom door bangs open, and I freeze against the wall.
My face flames red and hot, and as they unzip, I stay frozen and try to swallow my shame and my disappointment.
I was so close.