Chapter 28
I’m beating her, and that drives Harper batty.
“I can pull ahead. I know I can,” she says, as she joins me at the scoring bench, after only knocking over five pins in her frame.
I blow on my fingers. “I’m on fire tonight, princess. It’s going to be pretty hard to beat me.” But before I can stand up to take my turn, Harper plops her adorable little ass on my lap.
She laces her arms around my neck. I shake my head. “Don’t think you can knock me off my game by being so damn cute.”
“Cute? I’m cute?”
“Hot,” I whisper in her ear. “Hot, sexy, gorgeous, good enough to eat. Come to think of it, I kind of want to eat you up now.”
She laughs, swatting my shoulder. “You want to do that a lot, Nick,” she says.
“I know. I do. And I also know you’re trying to make me lose by talking about this stuff. Let me play, woman.”
She slinks onto the green vinyl seat next to mine, and I proceed to knock nine pins down, putting even more distance between Harper and me on the scorecard.
She shoots me a steely glare as I return to her. As she rises, I grab her arm and pull her back to me. “You tried to distract me. My turn to distract you.”
“Ha. Just you wait ’til softball season returns. I’ll really distract you then.”
I smirk. “Too bad we’re on the same team.”
She sneers at me and snaps her fingers. “Damn it.” Then she beams. “That’s okay.
I do kinda like watching you hit the homeruns.
” I straighten my shoulders because I am good at knocking in all the runners.
Then reality smacks me hard. Next summer, I’ll be playing on the same team with her when these lessons are over, and she’s moved on.
Maybe some other dude will watch her play, meet up with her after the games, take her out.
A wave of rabid jealousy rolls through me.
I try to swallow it down, but I’m keenly aware that even if we haven’t set an official expiration date on our project, there is one.
Sure, we might like each other enough to bowl, to go out to dinner, and to share ice cream, but neither one of us expects to cheer the other on in softball next summer as secret lovers.
That’s what we are now.
But when this ends, we go back to being Spencer’s best friend and Spencer’s sister.
I drag my hand through my hair as something like guilt mixed with shame takes up residence in me. Spencer’s on his honeymoon, and I’m fucking his little sister behind his back.
I try to imagine his reaction if he walked in on this scene right now.
We’re snuggled up in a bowling alley, and he’d have every reason to be pissed.
I’m not being honest with him, and the guy has been my best friend since the start of high school.
I helped him brainstorm plans for the app he launched that made him millions, I went to opening night at the first Lucky Spot he started, and I stood by him when he promised to love Charlotte for the rest of his life.
What if he discovered this tryst and was so pissed that I lost him as a friend?
I fight like hell to push the unpleasant image from my brain.
But wait.
What if that didn’t happen?
For the first time, I let the scene play out with a new opening act, with me saying something to him. What if I told him I liked his sister? What if he knew these intense feelings inside me were real? Would he freak out if he knew I cared about her? Or not?
But, hell, I’m getting ahead of myself.
Harper isn’t interested in re-upping after these next few nights. My chest tightens as the clock ticks in my head. It’s Thursday, and we only have a few more days.
Better just enjoy the hell out of this time. No need to dwell on what ifs.
Harper runs a finger against my temple. “How well do you see without your glasses?” she asks, cocking her head to the side.
I laugh at her out-of-left field question. “I see okay without them, but worlds better with them.”
“Did you ever want to try contacts?” She gently touches the frame. They’re not special—just simple black glasses.
“I tried them. I don’t really like putting something in my eyes.”
“What about LASIK?”
I shake my head. “I like my eyes. What if I was the one percent it didn’t work for and my vision was messed up?”
“That hardly happens.”
“Hardly is not never.”
“True.”
“Do you not like my glasses?” I ask curiously, as the woman in the lane next to us nails a strike.
Harper’s eyes widen. “I love them. I think they’re panty-meltingly hot.”
I groan from the mere mention of her panties. “Do they melt yours?”
She lowers her voice. “You know the answer to that. It’s yes.”
“Good answer,” I say, then brush a finger along the edge of her eye. “What about you though? You had those glasses in your purse at the bookstore, but I’ve never seen you wear them before. Were they prop glasses?”
She shakes her head as the nearby machine scoops up the fallen pins. “They’re real. But I wear contacts all the time. I have horrible vision without my contacts, so I bring the glasses along just in case I ever need them. I also carry a fake pair that I’m going to use for a new magic trick.”
I tilt my head to the side, curious to hear what she’s working on. “What kind of trick?”
She leans in closer and speaks softly in my ear. “The kind where I’m a sexy librarian.”
And suddenly I have no interest in finishing this game anymore.
* * *
She shelves a book in her tiny studio. With her red hair twisted in a clip, she stretches her arm, standing on tiptoe in her heels, sliding a book back in place.
I catch a glimpse of her stockings. They’re white, and she’s slipped on a tight, white button-down, too, as well as a hip-hugging black pencil skirt.
“Oh my, I can’t seem to reach the highest shelf,” she says.
“Need some help?” I offer.
She turns around, roams her bespectacled gaze over me, and quirks up the corner of her lips.
“Why, yes please. I would love it so much if you could grab that book,” she says, pointing to the coffee table.
She bends over, giving me the most fantastic glimpse of cleavage I’ve ever seen in my life.
Her shirt is only half-buttoned, so I have a perfect view of the fuchsia lace bra that hugs those beauties.
I grab the book, never once taking my eyes off the creamy flesh and the swell of her tits.
“Now,” she says, gesturing to the highest shelf. “I might need to stand on something.”
I grab a wooden chair from her breakfast table, slide it over, and pat it. She runs her finger over my beard. “Such a helpful library patron. The helpful ones are my favorite.”
I swing my eyes to her ass. “What I think would help you most is if you hike up that skirt.”
“Would you be so kind as to do that for me?” she asks, batting her eyelashes.
So naughty. So playful. So damn sexy.
I tug her skirt to her hips then hold out a hand, watching as she stands on the chair, her legs and ass on display. She’s wearing a fucking thong.
“Jesus Christ,” I mutter, and I can’t help myself. I’m nearly at face level with this gorgeous ass, so I bend and bite her cheek as she shelves the book. I groan and squeeze her flesh, my voice low and dirty, “The things I want to do to this ass. The things I want to do to your whole fucking body.”
She trembles against my touch, gasping and breaking character—but hell, I’ve already broken it. She blinks at me, her eyes saying holy shit.
Then, she returns to the role, turning around, wagging a finger at me.
“No touching permitted in the public shelves. That’s only allowed in the quiet corner of the library, and only if you show the librarian”—she trails off as she bends down, cups a hand around my ear, and whispers hotly—“your long, thick cock.”
This woman.
Wildfire twists in my veins, torching me.
I’m up in flames, hard as steel, and aching to have her.
In seconds, I strip to nothing, loving the way her eyes slide over my naked body, my chest, my arms, my abs, my dick.
I drag a fist down my length, swipe my thumb across the head and the drop of my arousal there, and then press that thumb between her red lips.
She sucks off a taste of me and moans headily around my finger.
I grab her hips, lift her off the chair, and set her on the floor. Then I park myself on the seat and nod at the condom on the coffee table. “This is the quiet corner of the library until you start making those wild, sexy sounds.”
She grabs the packet and returns to me, opening it.
As she takes it out, I yank down her panties, and lust seizes me as I catch my first glimpse of her pussy.
So slick, and silky, and shimmering with evidence of her desire.
She runs her hand over my dick, a purr of approval escaping her lips as she feels how hard I am for her.
“Now roll it down,” I say, and with a small grin, she does the job.
I point to my hard-on and give her an order. “Now get the fuck on my dick.” She shivers and then straddles me and sinks down in one smooth motion.
“Jesus Christ, Harper.” A shudder wracks my body as she rises up on me, then strokes back. “You turn me on so much,” I mutter, in the understatement of the century.
“Just like you do to me,” she says on a gasp as she rides my shaft, her hands curling tightly over my shoulders. She’s fully dressed except for her panties, and I’m completely naked, and I love the power exchange.
“So fucking hot. My sexy librarian is so fucking hot,” I say.
“Why is this your fantasy?”
I can’t think straight. Can’t answer with any intelligence. But I don’t need to when the answer is elementary. “Don’t know. It just is.”
I drop my hands to her bare ass, squeezing and drawing out a series of quick little gasps. “Why do you like it when I touch your ass?”
“I don’t know,” she answers with a broken breath. “I just do.”
Just like. Just is. Just do. That’s what we are. We are electric, and it’s just that way. I bring my hands to her face and cup her cheeks. “Let down your hair for me.”
She reaches up and unclips those red strands.
They spill down her back in a soft tangle, and I thread a hand through them, my other hand gripping her hip as she moves on me.
When I sense her getting closer, I grasp her harder, guiding her up and down, controlling her moves, watching her face contort in exquisite pleasure.
Her back arches, bowing into me, and then she cries out, a wild, long, intense moan that goes on forever. Grabbing her hair hard and twisting it in my fist, I fuck her through her climax, burying myself in her until my whole body quakes as I come undone, too.
Her arms grip me, her lips kiss my face, her hands hold me tight, and I don’t want this to stop, I don’t want it to end. I want Harper to want me this same way, like she can’t get enough of me. Because, hell, it’s become that way for me.
It just has.