Chapter 4
Arianna
This entire day has been a blur. I can’t process what happened earlier. I keep thinking that surely I misunderstood or made up some of the parts in my head.
It’s not possible that Dallas said everything my brain believes he did.
I haven’t been able to focus since Doug left.
Three other people came in during the afternoon.
Two of them were women with young children who come in often to return children’s books and check out more.
One was an older woman who regularly returns six romance novels and picks up six more.
She’s read every romance book in this library about ten times.
I wish I had the funds to increase that section.
Dallas usually stays a few hours and then leaves. Today, he has not left. When it’s finally five o’clock—time for me to lock up—I peek into the archive room, expecting to find Dallas leaning over blueprints, lost in his research.
I’m surprised to find that he’s put everything back in its box and is sitting at the table, leaning back in his chair. He has one ankle crossed over the opposite knee, and he’s strumming his fingertips on the table idly.
“Uh… I’m about to close for the day,” I tell him.
He pushes to standing. “Good. It seems like the day was twenty hours long.”
I bite into my bottom lip. Somehow, I know he has no intention of going back to the estate, and that has me all tied up in knots. I don’t want him to leave, but the thought of what’s going to happen between us next has me aflutter.
“Are you going home?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No, baby. I’m going to go upstairs with you and see your place.”
My breath hitches. I shouldn’t be surprised, but hearing him say it out loud makes it more real. “I’m not going to have sex with you,” I blurt out.
He shuffles closer to me. When his fingers stroke over my cheek, I stop breathing. “Baby, you’re going to have sex with me a million times before we die, but we’re not starting tonight, so stop fretting over that.”
I gasp. He’s serious. “You’re so certain.”
“Yes.”
“Cocky.”
“Yes.”
“And bossy.”
“Absolutely.”
I sigh. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Everything. Go lock the door, baby.”
I hesitate. “People will see your truck parked out front and know you’re in the library after hours.”
He smirks. “Good. It will make it easy to start the rumors.”
My breath hitches. “I don’t like the idea of rumors about me.”
“They won’t really be rumors, though, will they? You’re my girl. The sooner that spreads like wildfire around town the better.”
“I can’t be your anything, Dallas. That’s not realistic.”
“Why not?” He steps closer and cups my face in a way that makes me tingle all over.
“Because you can’t just order someone to be yours and declare they are. It’s barbaric.”
He snorts. “Arianna, baby, I don’t have to order you to be mine. You just are. You know it as well as I do. We could pretend otherwise for days or weeks, but why bother?”
“Because that’s what people do, Dallas. If you find me attractive or you’re interested in me, you could ask me out for Friday night or something. You can’t just demand it.”
“It’s Monday, baby. We will have been together five nights by Friday. Now, go lock the door.” He spins me around and nudges me toward the library entrance.
I find myself shuffling in that direction as if I’m a marionette and he controls the strings. It’s frustrating, but if I’m honest with myself, I don’t want him to leave. I want to spend more time with him and hold on to the feeling I have when he’s near me. I want to know if it lingers or fades.
When I have the door secured, I turn to find him only a few yards away. “Good girl. Now, let’s go upstairs.”
Every time he calls me good girl, butterflies take off in my stomach, and my heart races. I like how it makes me react and how he looks at me.
He holds out a hand. “Come. Don’t panic. I meant what I said. We’re not going to have sex, baby. We’re just going to talk in a more comfortable environment.”
I blow out a breath and let this confident man guide me to the back of the library. I keep the door that leads to the stairwell locked during the day so no one wanders upstairs thinking they might find another section of the library. It’s my apartment.
When I fumble with the keys, Dallas gently takes them out of my hand, unlocks the door, and holds it open for me.
He’s so intense and sure of himself. It’s beyond unsettling. What am I doing? This is a crazy idea.
Dallas follows me up the stairs before reaching around me to open the door at the top like a gentleman.
As soon as I step inside, I bite my lip. In two years, I’ve never brought anyone here. I’m instantly kind of embarrassed. “It’s not much,” I mutter.
He closes the door at his back, grabs my hips from behind, and bends to set his lips on my ear. “It’s lovely.”
I shudder, but a soft whimper escapes my mouth when he nuzzles behind my ear.
“You smell so good, Arianna.” He releases me and pats my bottom. “Go change into something you can relax in.”
I glance down at myself. He’s right. The uniform I’ve adopted for my librarian persona isn’t particularly comfortable, but I’m not ready to drop my facade around anyone, not even Dallas.
This is the look I chose when I moved to Wilde, and I never break form in front of other people.
I don’t even change to go to the grocery store.
The only time I let my hair down, literally and figuratively, is when I’m alone in this small apartment in the evenings. “I’m fine,” I tell him.
He rounds me to sit on my couch. It’s so old that he sinks down, but he says nothing. He points toward the only door leading off this main room. “Arianna, go change,” he orders.
Instead of obeying his command, I step toward the armchair across from him, smooth the back of my skirt, and lower to sitting. I’m rigid and ramrod straight. I feel defiant, and I’m curious to know what he will do about it.
When he stares at me intensely, I squeeze my legs together. Darn him. My panties are wet. It’s not fair that he can make me horny with just one look.
“I’m trying to be patient, Arianna, because I know you’re still wrapping your head around what’s happening between us. But I also know you need a firm hand, and you’re testing me.”
I gasp. My damn nipples pebble. He can probably see them through my blouse and bra. I know he can because his gaze slides down to my chest, lingers for a moment, and then roams back up.
He leans forward and sets his elbows on his knees. “I bet you spent most of the day wondering what it will be like when I spank your naughty bottom.” He lifts a brow.
My entire body shivers as I stare at him, but I’m not cold.
I hate that he’s right, and I squirm in my seat at the thought even now.
No one has ever in my life threatened to spank me, and if they had, I would have run from the building.
But there’s something about the thought of Dallas’s palm on my ass that makes me curious.
Not curious enough to experience it today, though. I’m not ready for something like that. My brain is scrambled.
“Have you thought about my palm on your naked bottom, Arianna?”
I swallow and nod. “Yes, Sir.” The words flow off my tongue as if I were born to submit to this man. The only reason I know anything about submission is because I’m well read. I’m not prepared to experience what he’s suggesting.
“Is that what you want me to do right now? Spank you?”
I shake my head.
He leans back casually again and lifts one brow.
Damn, he’s intense. So dominant that I’m about to come in my panties.
He rubs his chin slowly as his brow lifts higher. He’s challenging me. He’s dominating me hard and subtly.
I finally relent with a deep sigh as I stand. But when I pass him, he reaches out and clasps my wrist. He waits for me to meet his gaze before he says, “Eye rolling will land you over my knee just as fast as disobedience and lying.”
Did I roll my eyes? I swallow hard. I should slap him. Why am I turned on? “Yes, Sir,” I murmur.
He finally releases me.
I hurry into the small bedroom and close the door, leaning against it for several long seconds, trying to catch my breath as though I’ve just run a mile in under five minutes. I’m so flustered.
When I realize I can’t stand here forever, I hurry to my closet. I quickly kick off my pumps, strip out of my skirt, and hang it up before rushing toward my bathroom while unbuttoning my blouse. Lord knows how long he will wait before he barges into my room. I want to be dressed when that happens.
I glance at myself in the mirror and gasp. My cheeks are bright red. My eyes are dilated. Sheesh. I drop my blouse into the hamper and remove my pantyhose next.
I’m wearing a white lace bra-and-panty set. I may present as demure and conservative on the outside, but I don’t skimp on lingerie. It’s my private indulgence. At least my panties and bras allow me to feel sexy.
Dashing back toward my closet, I ponder what the hell to put on, finally ending up choosing a white cotton tank-top dress.
It’s nothing exciting, but it’s also not something I would wear out of my apartment.
It’s comfortable and private. Too revealing and form-fitting.
Youthful. Granted, I am young, but I don’t present that way.
I prefer to look stuffy and unapproachable. Weird is my goal.
It doesn’t work, apparently, because like Dallas suggested, most of the single men in town come to the library to flirt with me. Weird isn’t something they care much about. All they see is a single woman of marriageable age. It’s honestly difficult to know if I’m even attractive.
As soon as I step back into the living room, I think better of my choice of clothing. Suddenly, I feel too exposed. But I’m stuck when Dallas turns his head toward me. It’s too late to retreat to the safety of my bedroom.
I take two slow steps toward him and then pause.
Dallas’s eyes are wider than I’ve ever seen them. His mouth opens, but he doesn’t speak. When he rises to standing, fully facing me, I step back and run into the wall next to my bedroom door.
Yeah, this was a bad choice of clothing. He looks like he’s going to pounce on me. I look down, trying to avoid his gaze. I’m barefoot. Why didn’t I at least put on sandals?
For a long moment, neither of us says a word. Finally, Dallas speaks. “I would ask if you wear that out of the house, but I know the answer is no. It doesn’t fit your librarian look.”
He’s right. I don’t respond.
He holds out a hand. “Come here, baby.”
I hesitate but find it impossible to disobey him.
Shoving off the wall, I step closer. When I’m close enough, he gently circles my wrists with his hands and slides his palms up my arms until he’s holding my shoulders.
“I knew you were gorgeous, but, Arianna, you are beyond stunning. You can wear this tiny dress anytime you want when we’re alone, but you’re not allowed to wear it out of our bedroom. ”
My breath catches in my throat. Our bedroom ?
He slides his hands around to the back of my hair and starts pulling bobby pins out of my bun, carefully making a pile in his palm. When the last one is removed, my curls fall around his fingers. There’s still a ponytail holder, but he carefully removes that next.
I can barely breathe as he sets the pins and rubber band on the end table and threads his fingers in my hair, combing it over and over. I close my eyes because it feels so good. It’s been forever since anyone played with my hair. Not since my mother did when I was a child.
A soft moan escapes my lips, and Dallas growls and tugs my head back with his fingers fisted in my hair. “Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
I shake my head. I don’t. Not really. I don’t get it. I understand he’s attracted to me, but it’s not something I’ve ever let myself experience before. When men are interested in me, I ignore them and never absorb their looks. It’s unavoidable with Dallas.