Chapter Four
Sierra
T oday, my anxiety was more tingly than usual because Connor “Killer” Graves, heavyweight god, was lounging on the communal pleather couch like a panther sunning itself.
He was reading ‘ The Duke’s Forbidden Kiss. ‘
My five-star Goodreads review flashed through my brain, mortifying me.
“The tension!!! The yearning!!! When he pinned her against the bookshelves and growled, ‘Mine’??? I ASCENDED.”
I watched him turn the page in disbelief that he was actually reading it, not skimming or rushing through it, actually reading.
The morning light caught the stubble along his jaw and the way his gray long sleeves stretched across shoulders broad enough to bench-press me . My yoga pants suddenly felt like a terrible choice today.
“He’s not here for you,” I whispered to the biography section, reorganizing dead people’s lives for the third time. “He’s researching… boxing techniques. In a romance novel. ”
The dead people judged me silently as I peeked through the gaps in the shelves.
Connor’s tattooed forearm flexed as he turned a page, the ink disappearing under his rolled sleeve like a secret only I’d been desperate enough to notice. Which I was, honestly.
Around lunchtime, Connor shifted, the couch sunken under his weight. His jeans rode low enough to reveal a sliver of V-line that should have been illegal. My grip on the book I held loosened, and the corner caught my toe with a sharp pain.
“Ow!” I hissed, bending low to clutch my poor toes. His head snapped up, dark eyes locking onto me like I’d just detonated a bomb. My heart dropped. I’m such an idiot, I want to die, Oh my God?—
“Need help?”
His voice was low, rough, and laced with something that melted my knees. I squeaked, “Nope! Just… me. Sorry.”
I stammered, feeling my cheeks flush and my head rush with embarrassment.
He tilted his head, his sharp gaze dropping to my throbbing foot.
“Sit.”
“I’m working?—”
“Sit.”
My stomach did flips at the way he growled it, and my body obeyed, collapsing into the nearest armchair.
He rose, slow and predatory, and my lungs forgot how oxygen worked. All I could see was him and the adrenaline rush coursing through me.
He crouched down before me, suddenly eye-level and way too close. His rough thumb pressed into my wrist, burning through the sleeve of my favorite cardigan.
“Breathe.”
I hadn’t even realized I was holding my breath. I did as told, my face burning with our proximity.
“Four. Seven. Eight.” He murmured, the words honeyed and deep .
I gasped and blinked up at him, my mind spinning. “How did you…?”
“You count.” He tapped my inner wrist, where my pulse fluttered way too quickly. “Your lips move.”
Even more mortification flooded my veins. He’d noticed these things… Warmth pooled low in my belly as I realized, and I felt myself both melting and calming down. Given the men I’d met in my life, I had no idea how this big, scary man could make me feel so calm.
“Good girl,” he nodded, watching my chest rise and fall more steadily. The praise slithered under my skin, igniting nerve endings that only existed for my fictional books.
He moved back to the couch now, one arm slung over the back like he owned the place. Given his net worth, which a quick search told me was $50 million an hour ago, he probably could.
Why is the WBC’s heavyweight champion reading about a duke’s forbidden kiss?
“D-do you… Like it?” I stuttered stupidly, staring at the book in his large hands. Hands, I desperately wished wanted to hold me.
He didn't look up. “The writing’s shit.”
“Oh.”
My cheeks burned, embarrassment flooding my face. “I liked it…” I fiddled nervously with my sleeves, suddenly feeling dumb.
“It's not your fault.” He turned another page.
“The hero’s weak. He let her walk away three times.” He sounded oddly frustrated.
My head tilted curiously. Was that bothering him?
“That’s called angst,” I started, trying who knows what to figure out why he was reading such a girly book.
“Bullshit.” His eyes snapped to mine, dark and… hungry?
“If you were mine, you’d never get far enough to open the door.”
His voice was a low growl that made me weak, his words echoing in my head.
I just stared at him like a fool for the next hour. There’s no way he actually said what he’d said. It was all possessive and controlling and way too hot.
About an hour later, Connor slammed the book shut and stood, stretching lazily. I jumped and looked up, seeing his shirt ride up, revealing a strip of pure abs that made my brain short-circuit.
“Lunch,” he declared. “You’re coming.”
“To… where?”
“The Glasshouse. Botanical garden café. Third pin from the top.” I gasped, my Pinterest board title standing between us like a challenge.
My Pinterest! He’d seen my Pinterest. How on Earth did he find that?
“That’s private!” I suddenly felt shy, even though I liked him looking at it. I liked him paying attention to me, learning me.
“Not anymore.” His bruised knuckle grazed my jaw as he tucked a curl behind my ear, making my ears burn and my skin alight with fire.
His Audi was all luxury and leather. The seats were heated, he was heated. One hand rested on the gearshift like he was contemplating shifting me into his lap instead.
Delusional, though I had gotten this far. Maybe not entirely delusional.
“Seatbelt,” he growled when I fumbled with the clasp.
My thoughts scattered. I didn’t want to embarrass myself in his car. And he was so close to me, making everything feel ten times more terrifying.
“I’m trying,” I whispered, my fingers shaking and throwing my coordination off.
My head was so loud—why couldn’t I get it? Why couldn’t I be normal? This was a bad idea; I knew better. I’d only keep making a fool of myself.
My thoughts stalled when he leaned over, pectorals brushing my shoulder. He put his hand over mine, guiding the buckle into place with a gentleness someone his size could not have been capable of.
His breath fanned my neck, and I felt goosebumps rise on my skin despite the nervous tremble of my entire body .
“I've never seen someone fight a seatbelt before.”
I swallowed nervously, knowing I probably looked like a fumbling disaster. My gaze locked on our joined hands as the world spun before my eyes. Too much was happening, my head was too loud, and I felt myself falling into the world that haunted me.
“Sweet girl.”
His breath was sudden against my ear, the deep sound of his voice instantly soothing. I blinked a few times, trying to focus on what he was saying.
“Stay with me, sweet girl. Breathe.”
He instructed me gently, holding my chin with his larger fingers. He tilted my gaze upwards to lock with his, and I nodded mutely, watching his own breathing to pace myself.
“Good, you’re doing so well. In and out, just like that.”
The praise sank deep into me again, and I think I just soaked through my panties while panicking for the first time ever.
I looked up through wet lashes, not even realizing I’d gotten teary. I tried to give him a little smile, instinctively clamping my legs closed when I felt the unmistakable dampness there.
I felt much more comfortable throughout the drive. I couldn’t believe how easily Connor had calmed me down and shut my brain off with a few simple words.
The café was decorated with lights and trailing ivy when we pulled up, exactly like my pin.
Being here was surreal, especially with Connor Graves himself, a man I refused to believe truly took an interest in me.
He had put on the same cap and sunglasses from yesterday, which I’d determined to be his public disguise.
He pulled out my chair with a gentle nod.
“Sit.”
“You don’t have to?—”
“Sit.”
I sat.
Before I could look at the menu, he beckoned the wide-eyed waiter over and immediately ordered .
“Four cheese quiches, scones, breakfast tea, and an almond croissant.”
It didn’t really seem like a question, but he stared at me like he was waiting for me to say something. Those were all things I had pinned specifically from this place, the things I wanted to try the most.
“How did you…?”
Had he really stalked my Pinterest that much? When I didn’t correct him, he gave the waiter a nod before buttering a baguette slice.
It was such a relief not having to speak to the waiter and not having to rehearse my order the whole way here. My anxiety usually clouded the excitement of most things.
He placed the heavily buttered slice on my plate, eyes never leaving mine.
“Eat.”
The food was perfect. The company was, too.
He’d watched me like I was the food, ordering more every time I finished a plate. His knee pressed against mine beneath the table, warm and oddly comforting through the meal.
“Why are you doing this?” I questioned quietly, watching him pay the bill with a black metal card. He didn’t even give me a second to protest.
He stilled, glancing at me.
“You know why.” I didn't think I did...
“Let’s go.”
He pulled my chair out easily, pulling me up with him so his arm wrapped around my waist, making my breath catch in my throat at the contact. It was more than I’d ever imagined.
The library parking lot loomed too soon.
My brows furrowed as I watched Connor bypass the front entrance, parking near the library’s back door.
“Out.” He demanded .
I looked at him, confused, as he unbuckled his own seatbelt and came around to my side. He pulled me up to him straight from the seat and crowded me against the brick wall, his form completely engulfing me.
The world spun as he caged me against the brick, his heat searing me through my cardigan. He bent low so his head was just above mine, and his dark eyes looked frustrated…
“You think I don’t want you?”
His growl vibrated through my bones, making my breath hitch and the world tilt at our proximity.
“I memorized your Pinterest. I listened to that weak-kneed duke grovel for fun.”
I stared up at him, a dumbfounded mess of confusion and desire.
He carefully fisted a hand in my long curls, tilting my head back and making my whole body burn with need. I bit back a whimper that seemed to materialize in my throat.
“You’re all I think about. You’re all I want. And if you weren’t shaking like a rabbit right now, I’d show you exactly how much.”
His voice was like a drug I was becoming addicted to, his body a furnace through our clothing. He was all I could smell, all I could see, all I could feel.
His lips grazed my ear, his breath warm against my already burning skin. “Next time, little librarian… I won’t be so gentle.” I felt like jelly, pure jelly. He had to have secretly murdered me and brought me to heaven.
A rush of cold hit me as he left before I could process the threat-promise. He left before I could do something stupid like beg him to touch me.