5. Jane
Am I sure? I can’t believe that any of this is even real. That I’m here, in this gorgeous library, with Bryan Brooks himself.
I can’t believe Bryan watched every single one of my Book Talk with Byron videos—bought all the books I’d recommended, read each and every single one, and quoted a steamy alien romance back to me like he’d only ever done in my dreams.
And that’s the crux of the matter—that I’d dreamed of doing this with Bryan since the first time I’d stumbled across his feed. And now I’m in the mansion on the mountain with the man himself. He could have his pick of any of his three million followers, yet they’re not here. I am. Of everyone he could have, he picked a library assistant from Maple Valley.
Library assistant. I’m not going to be one for very long. Just thinking about it makes my heart sink. It’s happening because of Bryan—but it’s also not his fault. I can’t blame anyone but myself. I should have gotten my Masters in Library Science instead of putting a down payment on my house. If I had, I’d be a librarian, and a robot wouldn’t be able to take my place. But I thought I had time—that I could still do it next year, or the year after that.
“You’re having second thoughts, aren’t you?” Bryan asks.
“Yes. I mean no.” I sigh. “I don’t know.”
Bryan releases me and points to the deep couch. “There’s actually a quote I wanted to show you.”
I sit and watch while he carefully chooses a paperback from his massive library. His broad shoulders block my view of the title he pulls down, and he walks toward me with it hidden behind his back.
“In town, you asked me a question. My reply is also in the form of a question. The part of the quote you left out.”
The book falls open exactly where he wants it, and he settles on the couch next to me and points at the page while he reads,
“Do you think I am an automaton? — a machine without feelings? and can bear to have my morsel of bread snatched from my lips, and my drop of living water dashed from my cup?”
My heart beats triple time as he speaks. And when he looks deep into my eyes, I can barely catch my breath. He nods, points to the page, and implores me with his eyes to read the words Jane Eyre said to Mr. Rochester in the moments before he proposed to her.
“Do you think, because I am poor, obscure, plain, and little, I am soulless and heartless? You think wrong!”
I reach up and take out the elastic that’s holding my hair up in a bun. “I want you.” How can I not when the man is hot and quoting literature?
Bryan’s eyes darken as my hair tumbles down my shoulders. He gazes at me like I’m the only woman in the world. “And I want you. I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw one of your videos.”
His words set my heart racing, and I decide not to think about anything but this moment right here.
Bryan unbuttons my cardigan slowly, and my breathing grows heavy as he pops open one button at a time. By the time he slips my cardigan off my shoulders, I’m so ready I have to fight the urge to rip his clothes off.
Bryan, on the other hand, seems to want to take his time.
“Your skin is so soft,” he whispers as he trails soft, slow, kisses along my neck and down my collar-bone.
I see a flash of silver over his shoulder and spot Byron the robot standing there, still and silent. With no books to put away, he’s powered down, but I still feel like I’m being watched by the machine that just made my job obsolete.
Forget about the robot, Jane. You have a hot billionaire who wants to have sex with you, and you get to see him shirtless—in real life!
I’m dying to know if all those muscles are real or airbrushed, the way models’ muscles are.
I pull his suit jacket off his broad shoulders. I’m about to toss it on the floor when he takes it from me and drapes it neatly over the back of the leather chair.
I raise an eyebrow.
Bryan’s cheeks flush. “If it gets wrinkled, my dry cleaner will have my head.”
“Off with his head,” I say automatically, then start blushing, too.
“Shakespeare foreplay?” Bryan teases.
“Or Alice in Wonderland,” I tell him. “Not that it makes it any better.”
“Books always make everything better,” he says earnestly, and I nearly swoon.
Could Bryan Brooks be any more perfect? Well, maybe if he hadn’t programmed a robot to replace me—but other than that, he seems pretty damn incomparable.
“Can I kiss you?” he whispers.
My lips tingle, and I nod.
Ever so slowly, he leans down and covers my lips with his. He tastes like coffee, and I moan. Definitely perfect.
I wrap my hands around his neck and let myself get lost in the kiss. By the time we pull apart, we’re both out of breath, and I make quick work of his shirt. I hand it to him so he can drape it over the chair with his suit jacket, and let my gaze rove over him.
His chest looks exactly the way it does on QuickStar. “I can’t believe it’s real.”
Bryan frowns. “Excuse me?”
“I thought it was Photoshopped.” I trace his pecs softly with my fingertips and then run them down over his hard six-pack.
“You follow my QuickStar?” He grins, like I just gave him the best news in the world.
“I may have seen it once or twice,” I tease.
His face falls.
“Yes, I follow you,” I admit, then quote, “One day, I will find the right words, and they will all be simple.”
My hands stroke the same chest that I admired on my phone last night while I read that quote.
“I was thinking of you when I posted that one,” Bryan says.
I grab hold of his muscular arms. “Me?”
“I’ve wanted to talk to you, to meet you, for months.”
“What stopped you?”
“I’m not sure. I guess it was fear that I’d ruin the fantasy and have nothing left to look forward to?”
I pull away. “You worried that I wouldn’t be what you expected.”
“No, the opposite.” He takes my hands in his and places them back on his chest. “That you wouldn’t be interested in a robotics geek.”
I scoff. “How can I not be?”
I’m honestly in awe. That I’m here, in this mansion on the hill, in a giant library, surrounded by hundreds—scratch that, thousands—of books. That there’s a shelf with my own Dewey number. And that the owner was actually worried I wouldn’t be into his nerdy side when it’s the biggest turn-on for me.
It’s frighteningly erotic to be standing with a hot shirtless man against a backdrop of floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. To know that he’s run his fingers over the gold embossed writing of the old leather tomes—that he’s opened those editions, and that the spines of the paperback novels are creased from being lovingly read.
I feel like I’m lost in a dream. Yet somehow, for the next little while, this is my reality.
Oddly enough, the awe I feel is reflected on Bryan’s face. He inhales a sharp breath as he unbuttons my blouse, revealing my red lace bra.
“You are full of delightful surprises.”
“This QuickStar influencer I follow posted about it,” I admit. “I’m a sucker for stuff like that. You should see the things I’ve ordered—a self-rolling yoga mat, an electric jellyfish aquarium… don’t ask. It’s a bit of an addiction. Though now that I’m…” I trail off.
Unemployed. That’s what I was going to say—that now that I’m unemployed, I won’t be able to afford that kind of stuff—and the word echoes in my head, mocking me.
“Did you order the talking bookmarks?” Bryan brings me back to the here and now.
“The ones with the snotty British accent?” I snort. “Literally every bookstar account I follow has promoted them, but mine stopped working after like, five minutes. They’re a total rip-off!”
“I completely agree. I bought an entire box, thinking I’d donate them to the library.” He shakes his head. “But they just sit in the corner because I’m too embarrassed to show them to anyone.”
I glance to where he’s pointing, and there is indeed a huge brown box.
“How many?” I ask, unable to hold back a giggle.
“A thousand.” He shrugs. “I got a discount.”
I’m not sure what to say to that. It’s such clear proof that we’re from entirely different worlds—but here in Bryan’s library, with both of us in a state of semi-undress, I can’t bring myself to care.
I reach out and run my fingers along his non-airbrushed abs. He focuses back on my red lace bra, and his gaze grows heated as he reaches behind my back and unclasps it in a smooth, one-handed motion.
I feel a wave of jealousy, thinking about all the women a hot, rich guy like him must have been with. But I’m the one here now—and I take a certain thrill in that.
I reach down and pop the button on his dress pants. Bryan takes in a sharp breath as my fingers graze the waistband of his boxers. He swallows hard as I run the zipper down and push his trousers down his hips.
I stop short. “Are those… library boxers?” They’re yellow and striped with the words Author and Title and Due Date printed over his right hip; Borrower’s Name covers his left. They’re the design of the due date cards that no one uses anymore.
Bryan flushes. “I wasn’t expecting to be taking off my pants for anyone today.” He reaches towards his dress pants, almost like he’s going to pull them back up, but I stop him.
“I love a man who appreciates books and libraries as much as I do.” My cheeks flush because I just said the world love out loud, even if I didn’t mean it like that. Yes, I may have started falling for him the moment I found his QuickStar feed, but that doesn’t mean it’s love. It’s just a crush—a very heated crush. One that his cock seems to reciprocate.
His library due date card boxers tent around what is clearly an opus, not a novella, and I start to push him backwards towards the couch.
“Wait,” he says, but he only stops me so he can neatly fold his pants on top of his dress shirt.
I’m grinning as he pulls me towards the couch, and a wave of heat courses through me when he unzips my skirt. It falls to the floor, and he pulls me onto his lap.
“I’ve dreamed of this,” Bryan whispers reverently as I straddle his hips.
“So have I,” I admit, my breath quickening as he slides his hands up my thighs towards my red lace panties.
The thought of him picturing me, like this, is a huge turn on. Especially since I may or may not have touched myself while thinking about him. Okay, fine. I definitely did, over a dozen times.
“You’re so hot, Jane,” Bryan whispers. “I don’t think I could ever get enough of touching you.”
He rubs his thumb over my panties, grazing my clit through the lacy fabric, and I gasp.
He groans and does it again. “You like that?”
“Oh, yes.” I moan. “Please, I need more.”
He slowly runs his thumb along the lace. “How much more?”
I moan and hold on to his shoulders for dear life.
He groans. “Kiss me, Jane.”
I press my lips against his as he touches me. I pour all the need and desire I feel for him into that one kiss, but it’s not enough. I need him to really touch me, without these stupid panties in the way. And I need to touch him.
I slip my hand inside his boxers, squeezing his hot, hard length.
Bryan groans and throws his head back. I marvel in the power I have over him as I run my hand up and down his cock. But the moment he slips a finger inside my panties, I forget what I’m doing and focus on his touch.
Bryan knows exactly where to touch me. He rubs small circles around my clit, and I let out a loud moan, the sound echoing through the library.
And then, I lose myself in the pleasure building between my thighs.
Bryan rubs my clit, and I let out a cry that he swallows with his lips. With each swipe of his thumb, he brings me closer and closer to release. My moans get louder, and he covers my lips with his, swallowing the sounds.
I pump his cock again, harder and faster, as pleasure burns through my body, down to my very toes. And then I shatter in his arms, my eyes glued to his, the large floor-to-ceiling bookshelf serving as a backdrop behind him.
Bryan flips us, so my back is on the couch and he’s on top of me. “Don’t move.”
His eyes fill with panic, and he jumps to his feet and rushes out of the library.