Chapter Four #2
The windows went dark as the sun dipped below the ridge, leaving me surprised that I’d been distracted that long.
I hadn’t turned on the overhead light, but I didn’t need to – it’s not like I was getting any reading done.
So I leaned back, stretching my neck until it cracked, and let myself drift to thoughts of her. And him.
It would be so easy to go back to the study, call the agency, and request a replacement for Leo.
No fuss, no drama. But I hated losing, and firing Leo now would be a kind of defeat.
It would mean letting everyone see that I cared, that I was as vulnerable and predictable as any other petty tyrant with a crush on a member of the staff.
The thought was unbearable.
I closed my eyes and saw her face, as clear as if she’d been conjured by the dark. Her mouth, soft and unsure when she thought no one was looking. The way she chewed her lower lip when she was thinking. The nervous flick of her fingers as she flipped through her paperwork.
I pressed a fist to my chest, hard, as if I could force my heart back into rhythm.
No. Not yet. Not ever.
I wasn’t going to be that guy. I wasn’t going to be the story the staff told over drinks, the boss who couldn’t keep his hands, or his mind, off the help.
But as I sat there, alone in the dark, surrounded by the weight of a hundred years of books and secrets, I realized it was too late. The library had always been my favorite room in the house. Now, it was just another place where she haunted me.
I stayed there until the lamplight grew warm and the world outside the window went pitch. I waited for the calm to return.
It didn’t.
The sound of the door caught me mid-thought, a soft click that cut through the hush of the stacks.
I tensed, half expecting to see Maribel, or worse, Leo, to come to collect another round of staff gossip for the betting pool.
Instead, it was Eden, framed in the doorway by the fading light from the corridor, her hair a spill of gold against the dark of the library walls.
She hesitated, just a second, like maybe she’d caught the end of my fuming or sensed my presence.
Her fingers toyed with the button on her sleeve, knuckles white as bone.
I forced myself not to stare. Not that it mattered; heat flowed over my body and the deep desire to stand up and grab her felt impossible to ignore.
I watched her. She said nothing, just moved silently toward the far wall, trailing one hand along the spines as if memorizing their texture.
She stopped in front of a shelf I knew by heart: reference, top row, a set of fat, out-of-date encyclopedias that hadn’t seen sunlight in decades.
Her eyes scanned the titles, lips moving slightly as she read.
She stood on tiptoe, stretching her arm up, the line of her back a perfect arch under the blouse.
Of course, the book she wanted was just out of reach. Of course.
I cleared my throat, intending to announce myself. But the sound caught in my chest and emerged as more of a grunt. She flinched, almost losing her balance, and glanced over her shoulder.
“Oh, sorry, I didn’t see you there,” she said, voice low. “Didn’t mean to intrude.”
I nodded. “It’s your library as much as mine. What are you looking for?”
She blinked, surprised at the offer. “It’s silly.
There’s this old botany guide Maribel said was in here.
Something about the estate’s original gardens.
I thought it might help me with the event planning.
” She rocked onto her toes again, hand stretching futilely toward the second shelf from the top. “But I don’t think I’m tall enough.”
A botany book. And how was that going to help her plan? Sounded more like she was going to try and cozy up to Leo.
Frustrated, but unwilling to show it. I stood, forcing myself to move at a civilized pace.
When I reached her side, the air was suddenly different, warm with a hint of excitement.
I reached up, and our arms brushed, her sleeve cool and soft against the skin of my forearm.
The shock was instant, a surge that ran from the point of contact down my spine.
I found the book, A Guide to Native and Ornamental Flora, slid it out, and handed it to her. She took it, but her fingers grazed mine, lingering just a beat too long for either of us to pretend it was accidental.
“Thank you,” she said, breathless.
I stepped back, but not far enough. We were less than a foot apart, and I could smell her; the rainwater of her shampoo, the warmth of her skin, something faint and sugary underneath. I wanted to bury my face in the crook of her neck and inhale until I forgot my own name.
Instead, I said, “You might like the garden blueprints, too. I have them in the study.” My voice was rough. I hated it.
She hugged the book to her chest. “That would be amazing. If you have time.” Her eyes flicked up to mine, wide and unguarded. She bit her lower lip, just a little.
I had to look away. If I didn’t, I was going to do something irrevocable.
We stood there, stupid and silent, in the low glow of the room. I became acutely aware of my body, the ache in my jaw, the tension in my hands, and the hard pulse of desire that was doing nothing to disguise itself.
She might have noticed, even in the dark, but she didn’t flinch. Instead, she did something that nearly undid me. She leaned in, just slightly, and brushed her shoulder against mine—a signal so subtle it could have been written off as an accident. But it wasn’t.
I swallowed. Hard.
“Anything else you need?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper.
She shook her head, curls catching the light. “Just this,” she said, but the way she said it left the sentence unfinished.
I felt the urge rise; fierce, animal, unstoppable. For a fraction of a second, I saw myself pulling her against the books, kissing her so hard the shelf might give. I saw my hands on her waist, her mouth opening under mine, her body yielding, eager. I wanted it so badly my vision went blurry.
But I was not that man. I was not my father, or my grandfather, or any of the other men in those yellowed photographs along the hall.
I stepped away, breaking the spell.
“If you need the blueprints, come by the study after dinner,” I said. “I’ll have them ready for you.”
She smiled, a real, slow-blooming smile that made my chest ache. “I will. Thank you, Mr. Wolfe-erm-Gareth.”
That was the one time I wish she hadn’t said my name. It was low, intimate, and instantly had me thinking of her in my bed. Internally, I told my brain to knock it off, but my body was starving for her.
I nodded, throat dry, and turned to leave. But as I reached the doorway, I glanced back.
She was still standing there, clutching the book, eyes fixed not on the pages but on the space where I’d just been.
I walked the hall at double pace, not stopping until I reached my quarters. I shut the door and leaned against it, fists clenched, every muscle thrumming with the effort it had taken not to do what I wanted.
This is why I wrote the NDA. This is why I had rules. Because I knew what would happen if I let myself go.
But the rules were already starting to look weak.
And I was becoming the wild animal intent on taking a mate.
Too bad I wasn’t the forever type, and that she was wholly off-limits.