Chapter 20
Libby
“You cannot keep doing this,” I whisper yell.
“Why not? Do you want me to stop?” Dax says with a smirk on his lips and a mischief in his eyes. It’s a new look for him, this whole unfiltered, happy, frisky thing he’s got going on. And it’s distracting. Very, very distracting.
“That’s not what I said. I just said that you have to knock it off because people will see.”
The smirk widens and Dax pulls me against him, right in the middle of the store. Well, maybe not right in the middle, per say, but we are in the back corner, the mystery and horror section, backed against the bookshelves, somewhere between King and Lovecraft.
“And why does it matter so much if we are seen? Are you ashamed that you like me?”
I can’t help but smile at his teasing, but it does piss me off a little. “Of course I’m not ashamed. I just don’t want to get caught–”
I am cut off by Dax’s mouth covering mine, his lips soft and tangy and sweet. And as deliciously divine as it is, I only humor it momentarily before pulling back.
“You must behave,” I say, punctuating each word. “Or else.”
With that, I walk away, a grin that could stretch from Beacon Street to Fenway as I make my way back to the front table. Summer is busy organizing it for the new romantasy book coming out.
“Have a nice tousle?” she asks, and my attention snaps up to her.
“Don’t look so surprised that I know, your face says it all. Not to mention you two knocked over half the Business section earlier. If you’re going to get action between the shelves, maybe at least do it in the Romance section.”
“We really shouldn’t be doing anything at all,” I say, straightening the books on the table that are already straight.
“Why not? Tom and I have literally been taking bets on when you two would stop pretending to hate each other.”
“Taking bets?” I snap. “You’ve been gambling about whether or not we were…involved?” I lower my voice to ask the question.
“Involved. Sneaking around. Doing the dirty,” Tom says as he appears with another box of jaded fairy MMC books.
I’m not sure where we are even going to put them but the last book this woman wrote sold out in less than five minutes, basically as soon as our doors opened that day, and this time we wanted to be prepared.
“So, who won?” I mutter, giving in to the reality that my love life, or whatever this is, is now public domain and anyone and everyone is free to interpret it however they please.
“Me,” Tom answers to my surprise.
“Really?” I ask.
Summer gives a one shoulder shrug. “I assumed it wasn’t allowed.”
“Allowed?” I echo but with much more emphasis.
“Sure. I mean he is your brother’s friend. And anyone who reads romance knows that while it is a good trope, it’s forbidden.” Summer whispers the last words.
“And I figured the two of you were going to do whatever you want,” Tom says.
Summer’s not wrong. It is somewhat forbidden.
Despite Kai not exactly being the protective, doting, overbearing brother than most older brothers are.
I mean, I guess he is a bit overbearing but it’s not in a loving way.
It’s more of a controlling way. Still, he wouldn’t be happy if he knew what is going on between us. Which is why he can’t know. Ever.
The day goes as I expect. We open the doors and the romantasy table is swarmed by girls and women who will devour it in hours, then go through a terrible book hangover and post all about it on social media.
As much as those books aren’t my style (I’m more of a Jane Austen and Anne Rice kind of girl, depending on my mood), I do love when Ursula Rosewood puts out a new fairy book.
My sales leap every time. While the big box stores do sell these books at a discounted price, the authors favor small stores.
I think because we understand their struggle.
We know that the publishers make all the money, and they get pennies.
We know how it feels to have the man on top to get the credit.
So, we make friends with these authors, who very quietly give us signed copies of their books.
And we sell them at normal price, only advertising to our faithful customers slash their faithful readers.
Needless to say, I am in a good mood for the rest of the day.
By the time we close and the last customer walks out after buying some stationery and a bookmark and complimenting me multiple times about the vibe and aura of my charming little shop, I lock the door and flip the sign and sigh.
Summer and Tom went home about an hour ago and Dax went to pick the girls up from school.
They’re probably at home now, making tacos or mac and cheese or some other kid approved food because it's kid night.
A knock on the door behind me makes me jump and I flip around to peek through the glass.
Or...maybe not.
I unlock the door again and open it.
“What are you doing here? And don’t you have a key?” I ask.
“Well, you see…” he starts as he walks inside and closes the door behind himself. “I seem to have misplaced it.”
His keys are on a ring, hooked to his slacks. A fob for his Mercedes and…a shop key. I jingle them and raise my eyebrows at him. “Found it,”
“Oh. Guess I came here for nothing then it seems,” he says, taking a step closer.
I take a step back, a smile crawling across my face. “Seems so, yes.”
His voice is low enough to scratch across my nerves, making all the hairs on my arms and neck stand up.
“What about the girls?” I ask and we tango slowly through the shop.
“We went to Jenna’s for dinner tonight. And the girls started a movie and then fell asleep, and Jenna said it was too late to move them and now…I find myself alone. Unless…you don’t want to be alone either?”
“Hmm,” I smile and lean back against the counter.
“I take that as a yes.” Dax stops right in front of me, his body pressing warmly against mine.
“Yes you think I want to be alone or yes you should stay?”
Dax’s mouth hovers closer to mine and I tip my chin up to invite the kiss. But before it can happen, he pulls back. A teasing smile quirks the corners of his lips. “You decide.”
With that, I grab his shirt by the chest and yank him to me.
Our mouths crash hard enough to hurt, making us both laugh but we don’t stop.
After that, it’s all hands, pulling at shirts, tugging at belt buckles, lifting skirts.
He picks me up, his hands firmly gripping my thighs and our mouths meet again, tongues reuniting like they’ve missed each other in the whole five seconds they were apart.
“I want you,” I say, running my hands through his blonde hair, igniting his scent. It’s spicy, salty, and warm. Cinnamon. He smells like cinnamon.
“Don’t worry, honey. You’re going to have me.”
We round to the backside of the counter, away from street view just in case anyone happens to be walking by the shop. Then he lays me on my back on the hardwood floor. Neither of us care. The floor isn’t the only thing that’s hard. And in a minute, it’s going to be wet. So, very, wet.
“Hurry up,” I say, my legs spread, my fingers playing with myself to offer some kind of relief as I wait for him to pull himself from his pants.
“You’re so eager,” he growls with a grin.
“Yeah well it’s not every day a hot guy walks in my shop while I’m doing inventory.”
Dax crawls on top of me, kissing me again. His hard, warm cock presses against the length of me and I gasp as it shoots a thousand hot pulsing sensations through my nerves. Just from the pressure.
“Yeah well it’s not every day you get to work with a sexy bookseller. And speaking of inventory, I plan to do a little of my own.”
Dax reaches down and slips his fingers inside my panties.
His fingers find my clit, toying with it for a few agonizing moments before moving downward.
With a coy smile, he slips his middle finger inside me, and I gasp.
His hands are softer than I’m used to. He’s a white-collar guy.
But they are man hands, proportionate to his chiseled, six-foot-something frame.
Not to mention the other area that is also very… proportionate.
“Fuck,” I let out as his finger swirls inside me, finding all the nerve endings and awakening in me an aching that has been there for so very long.
“You like that?” he asks as he toys with the most sensitive parts of me.
“I do,” I nod. “Fuck, you’re so hot, Dax.”
A raspy growl escapes his throat. “God, I love when you say my name. And you know what else I like? When you come for me.”
Dax pumps his finger in and out of me and I cry out, covering my mouth for a moment until I realize– we are alone.
No one can hear us. No one knows we are here.
So, I press my hands to the hard wood floor all the while my eyes locked on his hard wood in front of me. And I’m not the only one dripping.
“Dax, I want you,” I say again. “I want you inside me.”
“My hands aren’t good enough?” he teases.
“They’re good. Fuck, they are so good.”
“But you want me to stop,” he says, his finger slowing. His eyes are wild like the ocean before a storm, and I meet his gaze.
“I want to come on your dick,” I say. And the storm hits.
Dax pulls his finger from me and push-ups over me, driving himself deep inside. I moan at the rush, the girth, the heat that burns my tights and makes even my fingers and toes tingle.
“Damn, baby girl. I’d love to fuck you slow but right now, I don’t think I can.”
“So don’t,” I say and Dax thrusts even deeper before pulling back and diving in again. We get one, two, three solid drives and I swear to god he is about to end it right here, right now, after only thirty seconds. But before he can, the door slams and we both stop dead.
“What was what?” I mouth the words. And then we hear the voice.
“Hello? Anyone home?”
OH. MY. GODDD.
Kai is in the shop.
We scramble to our knees, pulling my skirt down, zipping his fly, fixing my hair, flatting his shirt. I look down at the bulge, and he gives me a panicked look.
“Tuck it in your belt,” I mouth, adding hand gestures.
Dax tries it but it still doesn’t fix the problem.
“What do I do now?!” he mouths.
“Hello?” Kai asks again and then we hear footsteps.
I look around frantically and point at the kids’ corner. “Hide.”
“Where?”
More hand gestures and mouthing. “Inside the tree.”
Dax looks at me like I’m crazy and I stand up, revealing myself to my brother.
“Jesus, sis. You scared the shit out of me. What the fuck were you doing on the floor?”
“I was fixing the wheel…on the book cart. It was…stuck.”
“Ookay…” he narrows his eyes at me.
I smile and out of my peripheral, Dax is army crawling to the fake tree in the back of the shop that serves as a tiny playhouse. If he can roll up into a ball the size of a sleeping bag, he should be fine.
“What are you doing here?” I ask.
“I wanted to talk to you about the store.”
“What about it?” I ask, my tone level. I have a gut feeling I won’t like where this is going.
“You do understand that in order to make the transition to Hemingway, a lot of things have to change.”
“I’m aware,” I say, meeting his eyes. My brother walks over to the counter, his eyes sweeping disapprovingly over the clutter of impulse trinkets and a bobble head Edgar Allan Poe on the cash register.
He also runs a finger over the edge of the counter, looks at the invisible dust on his fingertip, and wipes it on his pants.
“Good. So, you understand we have a lot of changes to make.”
“You mean like bashing that wall out over there so customers can stand in line for overpriced lattes pumped out of a noisy espresso machine? Or are you talking about how we will lower prices, shoving our authors even lower into the poverty gutter they are already trying to survive in?”
“Don’t be so dramatic. Writers are a dying art anyways,”
I shove around that statement because it’s an entirely different conversation I’d love to steamroll him in.
“Or maybe you’re referring to the bookshelves on the walls,” I say, my voice crescendoing as I gesture behind him.
“The ones our dad made with his own hands. The same hands he stained the wood with. The hands that loved our mother and fed us even when things were hard.”
“Don’t be gross,” he cringes. “I don’t want to think about mom and dad.”
“Of course you don’t, Kai. Because you never think about them. Now that I say it, you never think about anyone but yourself. You didn’t ask if I wanted to sell.”
“I’m the first born. It was never up to you,”
“I am your sister. I am your partner. And this store is my life!” I shout and the words hang in the air for several seconds before he swallows and chooses to move on. As he does. As he always has.
“Well, like it or not, Libs. The store is sold. The changes will be made. And that’s that. So, I suggest you stop living in the past. Please. For everyone’s sake. You’re driving Dax nuts and you’re making everything harder. Find a new life, sis. Accept that change is good.”
But I won’t. I refuse. My brother sees himself out and I lock the door behind him, watching as he disappears into the night. My jaw is tight, and my eyes are burning from the hot, angry tears. I’m shaking, but it’s not because he upset me. My brother deceived me. And I am livid.
I can hear Dax’s footsteps on the creaking, wooden floor as he slowly makes his way over behind me. The floors will probably be gone too. All of it will be. It’s enough to crush me.
I turn around, trembling from the thought of it all. The reality of it all. And my eyes land on Dax’s.
“Listen to me,” he says, closing all but one foot of space between us. “I’m not going to do anything to your shop that you don’t give the okay on.”
I snort out a half laugh, laugh snivel. “Are you sure about that? Because last I checked, Hemingway’s all look the same. A same that looks very different than my shop.”
Dax looks around. “Yeah well…your shop has grown on me. A lot of things have grown on me, Libby Sterling. And I’m not about to make any mistakes.”
“You mean that?” I ask carefully.
But Dax’s eyes are warm, and he grabs my hands, bringing them to his mouth. His lips press to them in a kiss and a truce in the form of a smile tugs at his lips. “Yeah. I do.”
With that, I kiss him, and we forget all about my brother and everything else I’ve been anxious about.