Chapter Eight #2
The elevator shudders to a stop in the basement. For a long moment, neither of us moves. We just keep kissing, too caught up in one another to care. And then he pulls away with a groan, his sunglasses knocked askew on his face.
"You ever fucked in a library, beautiful?" he asks, his voice a deep, deadly rumble.
"What?"
"You ever fucked in a library?" he asks again.
"N-no."
"Good." He taps my hip, tugging me away from the wall of the elevator. His lips brush the side of my throat. "Then I'll be the first."
My entire body ignites, my knees trembling. I stumble off the elevator after him, only to run into his back when he comes to a dead stop just beyond the elevator doors.
"What the fuck?" he rumbles, glancing around. "This is part of the library?"
"It's where books go to die," I say softly, trying to see it through his eyes.
I've been down here so often, the chaos is normal to me.
But I guess it probably does look a little wild to anyone who has never seen it before.
There aren't really any shelves. There are just long tables and heaps of battered books stacked everywhere.
A few broken shelves litter one corner, with old computer equipment stacked in another.
"We use it to store books donated by the community for our semi-annual basement sale. "
"Ah," he says. "Where do these go?"
"That table," I say, pointing to the long table that houses the romance section.
He stalks that way, carefully depositing the stack on top before turning toward me. I watch, my stomach fluttering when he rakes the sunglasses from his face and then crooks a finger at me.
I don't even realize I'm moving until I'm standing in front of him, so close, I see the way his nostrils flare when he looks at me.
He hooks an arm around my waist, pulling me flush against his body. "Been thinking about you all day today, Loralei."
"M-me, too," I whisper.
"Yeah?" His lips quirk in a grin. "What were you thinking about?"
"Just you."
"Were you thinking about how good I felt inside you this morning?"
"Maybe."
His hand rakes down the back of my thigh, cool air brushing my skin as he lifts it. "Did you think about how badly you need me inside you again?"
"Yes," I moan, pressing my thighs together.
"Good." He angles my head, his lips inches from mine. "Because I haven't thought about anything else all goddamn day, beautiful. Every time I close my eyes, I see you falling apart for me. I hear you crying out for me. I'm losing my mind."
"Ash," I whimper, my fingers digging into his sides like that's going to hold me upright. It's not, though. Not when he's got his hands on my body, one already slipping between my legs.
He groans when he feels how wet I am. "Christ, baby. You're drenched for me." He spins me around, pressing against my shoulder to lean me over the table.
My hands flatten across the top, my fingers curling around the edges of two books, trying to keep myself upright. My legs nearly buckle anyway when he kneels behind me, tapping my thigh.
"Spread for me."
I do, my whole body shaking when I feel his breath on my sex from behind. And then his mouth is there. I fall forward, crying out softly as his tongue swipes through my folds, swirling around my clit.
My fingers claw at the cover of one of the books, leaving gouges across the title. I should probably feel bad about that, but his tongue is inside me, wreaking havoc on my body, and I don't feel bad. I feel like I'm flying and falling and fucking all at the same time again.
"Ash," I gasp. "Oh, God."
He fucks me with his tongue, grunting and snarling curses. His hands spread my cheeks, opening me up, allowing him to get closer, deeper. I writhe, choking on his name.
And then his tongue rolls over my back entrance, and I sob.
"Let it happen," he growls, flicking his tongue right there.
And God, I do. I push back against him, shocked and reeling. Delighted.
He pushes the tip of it against my entrance, thrusting two fingers inside me at the same time.
I come with a soft cry, my knees buckling as waves crash through me in a tsunami of pleasure. It's more intense than anything I've ever felt, a sky without end.
He growls behind me, and then he's on his feet, his chest to my back, his lips against my ear. "Fucking perfect," he growls, working desperately at the fly of his pants. "Even that little hole is fucking perfect, Loralei."
"Ash," I whimper.
My whimper bleeds to a moan when he notches at my entrance, pushing his way inside.
I clench around him, clawing at the books, at the table, at anything in an attempt to root myself to reality.
But it's useless. He's already inside me, fucking me hard enough to rattle books off the table.
Hard enough to knock the air from my lungs every time he bottoms out.
I push back against him, loving the way his body covers mine and the way he kisses me everywhere he can reach. I love everything about the way he feels over me, inside me, like he's eclipsing the entire world, replacing it with him.
"That's it," he groans, his teeth sinking into the hollow of my throat when I splinter apart. "Come all over me, beautiful."
I do. God, I come so hard, nothing else exists. It's just me, him, and the books beneath my hands.
He follows me over the edge, chanting my name like it's the only thing he knows. Part of me, a part that's grown so impossibly large it's almost terrifying, kind of hopes it is the only thing he knows.
Ash helps put me back together with gentle, reverent hands and sweet words. Once I'm as presentable as I'm going to get, he pulls me into his arms, holding me tightly against his chest.
I burrow into him, my head against his chest. Part of me wants to stay right here, hidden in the basement, surrounded by him and books like the rest of the world doesn't exist. Except…it does.
"I need to get back to work," I say regretfully, tilting my head back to look up at him.
He sighs, scanning my face. "Do you still want me to come to dinner tonight?"
"Yes." I bite my lip. "Unless you don't want to?"
"Oh, I want to, Loralei." He rests his forehead against mine. "I want it enough that it should scare the shit out of me."
"Does it?"
He hesitates for a moment, and a tiny sliver of my heart breaks from the rest. "Not as much as it should," he finally admits.
I'm not entirely sure what that means, but I think I can guess. He didn't come here looking for this anymore than I went out to the canyon looking for him. Neither of us expected to meet the other or to feel the way we do. And yet…here we are anyway.
What are we supposed to do about that? Eventually, he has to go back to his real life.
And his real life isn't sex with a small-town librarian in the basement.
It's not a cabin in the middle of nowhere.
It's sold-out shows, an endless barrage of media attention, publicity, and commitments. Does he even have a place in it for me?
I don't know, but I think I want him to. It's selfish and wrong, but I want him to want me to belong in his life, even if it's a pipe dream.
But it's never that simple, is it?
A chill rips through me, the sudden certainty that he's going to break my heart. Maybe not today or tomorrow, but some day soon, he's going to rip it right out of my chest. Whether he means to do it or not, he will.
I think maybe that's the only way this can end.
"I should go," I say, stepping out of the circle of his arms.
He catches my fingers at the last second, his gaze somber. "See you tonight?"
For a split second, I hesitate, wondering if this is the part where I'm supposed to protect myself and my heart.
If this is where I'm supposed to step back and put up walls, build a buffer to mitigate the damage I can already see coming my way.
And then I see the hopeful, pleading look on his face…
and I think maybe it's already too late for that.
So I do the only thing I know how to do. I nod.