The Library Garden – Ella Braeme #4
"We could try again tomorrow," he suggested, knowing they wouldn't. Knowing they were already past the point of pretending this was just about garden plans and structural integrity.
"Tomorrow," she agreed, then kissed him again, quick and sweet. "But right now, I believe you promised me dinner. And maybe you can tell me more about these things you've been marveling at?"
Marcus smiled, feeling lighter than he had in months.
They still had so much to figure out—how to tell Zara, how to blend their very different approaches to life, how to navigate their professional relationship, semi-professional as it already was.
But sitting here with Claire, watching her eyes dance as she stole fries from his plate and argued passionately about the structural benefits of tree houses, he shoved all concerns to the back of his mind.
Claire couldn't believe how the evening had unfolded.
After hours of talking at the restaurant, words flowing as easily as the wine, inviting Marcus back to her apartment had felt natural, inevitable.
Now, standing at her door, the reality of sharing this intimate space with him sent a shiver down her spine.
She'd never brought anyone here before—this was her sanctuary, her private retreat from the world.
Her hands trembled slightly as she unlocked the apartment door, hyper aware of Marcus standing close behind her.
The key stuck—it always did—and she silently prayed he wouldn't see this as another sign of the building's questionable maintenance standards.
She'd seen his reaction to the crumbling courtyard tiles at the library; what would the structural engineer think of her beloved but aging Silver Lake apartment complex?
"Sorry about the sticky lock," she murmured, finally getting the door open. "The super keeps promising to fix it."
Marcus's warm laugh surprised her. "You should see the state of my garage door. I keep meaning to replace the mechanism, but somehow there's always a more urgent project."
The admission helped settle her nerves, but only slightly.
She flicked on the lights, watching Marcus's face as he took in her space.
The wall of mismatched bookshelves she'd collected from yard sales over the years.
The flourishing jungle of potted plants on every available surface—her attempt at creating a garden when she couldn't have a real one.
The pile of library-themed throw pillows her sister kept sending, insisting Claire's apartment needed "softening. "
"I know it's small," she started, but Marcus was already moving toward her pride and joy: the reading nook she'd created in the bay window. Gauzy curtains framed the space, and the window seat was piled with more pillows and a handmade quilt from her grandmother.
"This is perfect," he said softly, running his hand along the worn wooden bench. "Did you build this yourself?"
Claire felt her cheeks warm. "The apartment came with the window seat, but I refinished it. The previous tenant had painted it avocado green."
His engineer's eye was scanning the room now, but not with the clinical assessment she'd feared.
There was something tender in his expression as he took in the family photos thoughtfully arranged on her walls, the vintage botanical prints in copper frames, the carefully curated warmth she'd worked so hard to create.
His thumb traced her jawline, making her shiver. "Your apartment suits you perfectly. Warm, inviting, a little bit magical."
"Oh?" Claire tried for innocent, but her voice came out breathier than intended. "And what does that mean?"
Marcus gestured to the reading nook. "It means all I can think about is sitting there with you, watching the lights of Griffith Observatory twinkle against the Hollywood Hills, not having to worry about library closing times or construction schedules or?—"
Claire kissed him, cutting off his words.
He responded immediately, pulling her closer as if he'd been waiting for permission.
Unlike their careful kiss at the restaurant, this one held no hesitation.
His hands tangled in her hair, and she pressed closer, wanting to memorize everything about this moment: the solid warmth of him, the way he smiled against her lips, the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this impossible thing between them could work.
She closed her eyes, savoring the touch, feeling the electricity between them.
"You're beautiful, Claire," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire.
Claire's heart raced as she reached up and removed his glasses, placing them on the side table. She wanted to see his eyes, to witness the passion and intensity she felt in his touch. His dark eyes locked with hers, and in that moment, she fell harder than she had thought possible.
Marcus leaned forward, his lips brushing against hers softly at first, then with growing urgency. Claire responded, her hands tangling in his wavy hair, pulling him closer. Their kiss deepened, tongues dancing, exploring, as if they were trying to taste each other's souls.
Breaking away for air, Claire felt her body on fire. She stood, taking Marcus's hand, and led him towards her bedroom. The soft lighting from the bedside lamp cast a warm glow on the bed, inviting them to surrender to their desires.
As they stood by the bed, their eyes locked, both breathing heavily, Marcus's hands gently cupped Claire's face, his thumbs stroking her cheeks. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice filled with concern and desire.
Claire nodded, her eyes never leaving his. "I want this," she whispered, her voice steady despite the trembling inside.
Marcus gently guided her onto the bed, his strong arms supporting her. He hovered over her, his eyes searching hers, seeking permission for what was about to happen. Claire reached up, pulling him down, her actions speaking louder than words.
Their lips met again, hungry and passionate. Marcus's hands roamed over her body, exploring the curves she had kept hidden beneath her clothes. He traced the lapels of her dress, his fingers leaving a trail of fire on her skin.
Claire arched her back, offering herself to him, her breath coming in short gasps.
Marcus's hands unhurriedly opened the buttons at the front of her dress, slowly lowering it, revealing her plain cotton bra and the swell of her breasts.
He paused, his eyes dark with desire, taking in the sight of her.
"You're stunning," he whispered, his breath hot against her skin.
Claire's hands found the buttons of his shirt, deftly undoing them, eager to feel his warm skin. As the shirt fell open, she ran her hands over his muscular chest, feeling the contours of his body and the goosebumps on his skin. "Cold?" she asked.
"No, anything but." With gentle hands, Marcus removed her dress, his eyes never leaving hers. He took his time, savoring the moment, as if it were a sacred ritual. Claire's body trembled with anticipation, her heart pounding in her ears.
Marcus's eyes roamed her body, taking in every inch of her. He traced the curves of her hips, the softness of her thighs, and the swell of her breasts. His touch was reverent, as if he were worshipping her.
"I want to make this special for you," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.
Claire's eyes filled with tears at his words. She had never felt so desired, so cherished. She reached up, pulling him down for another kiss, her body yearning for his.
Their kisses became more urgent, their hands exploring, learning each other's bodies.
Marcus's fingers found the clasp of her bra, skillfully undoing it, and her breasts spilled into his waiting hands.
He cupped them, his thumbs brushing over her sensitive nipples, eliciting a soft moan from Claire.
As he kissed his way down her body, Marcus's hands continued their exploration. He slowly slid her panties down her legs, his touch gentle and deliberate. Claire lifted her hips, aiding his efforts, her body on fire with anticipation.
His lips found the sensitive skin of her inner thighs, kissing and teasing, driving her wild with desire. She squirmed beneath him, her hands gripping the sheets, as he brought her pleasure with his mouth and tongue.
"Marcus," she whispered, her voice hoarse. "Please..."
He looked up at her, his eyes dark and hungry. "Are you sure?"
Claire nodded, her body trembling. "Yes, please. I need you."
With great urgency, Marcus took off the rest of his clothes, only to pause to retrieve protection from his pocket.
After a moment, he settled between her thighs, their eyes meeting with shared anticipation and trust. With one smooth motion, he entered her, filling her with a sensation like never before.
Claire arched her back, her hands grasping his shoulders, as a wave of pleasure washed over her.
He moved slowly at first, his body a contrast to the gentle rhythm of their earlier kisses. His hips thrust forward, each movement deliberate, as if he were savoring every inch of her. Claire matched his pace, her body responding to his, their connection growing deeper with each stroke.
The room filled with the sounds of their passion—the rustle of sheets, their ragged breaths, and the wet, slick sounds of their bodies moving as one. Claire's hands roamed over Marcus's back, feeling the muscles flex beneath her touch. She dug her nails into his skin, leaving marks of possession.
"Oh, Claire," Marcus groaned, his voice strained. "You feel so good."
Claire's body tightened around him, her orgasm building with each thrust. She could feel his control slipping, his movements becoming more urgent, driven by the intensity of their connection.
"Together," she whispered, her voice pleading. "I want us to..."