Chapter 5
FIVE
As fate would have it, the sky cracked open on Friday morning, and unrelenting rain poured onto the streets of Honeysuckle. Mallory continually checked the local weather radar, hoping the deluge would cease. But the forecast projected rain throughout the weekend, effectively ruining the library’s plan to host the book sale and silent auction outside amid the wildflowers.
Since they hadn’t advertised a rain date, the staff decided to hold the event inside the building. With many factors to rework and modify, Mallory was so preoccupied on Friday that she didn’t immediately note Joel’s absence. He always visited during the one o’clock hour, which came and went with no sign of him.
Suddenly, her stomach grumbled, the sound loud enough to steal her attention, and she realized she’d also skipped lunch. She grabbed her umbrella and headed to her car, thoughts swirling about Joel’s whereabouts. He wasn’t one to deviate from his normal routine, so she prayed everything was okay as she made the short drive over to Black Cat Bakery to order their famous French onion soup.
After pulling into the closest parking spot, she jumped out of the car and hurried to take cover under the bakery’s awning, but her hand froze when she clutched the doorknob.
Through the foggy glass, Mallory saw them clear as day—Joel and a woman. A rather beautiful woman, at that. Auburn hair was pulled into a ponytail, and she wore skinny jeans with a white button-down shirt, the motorcycle boots on her feet giving her the right amount of edge. An easy intimacy lingered between them. They sat close together at a circular table, partaking in what was obviously a meaningful conversation.
Christine.
Mallory’s appetite vanished immediately.
Over the past two days, she had foolishly spent hours alone in her apartment, literally practicing how to broach the topic of Christine. She’d stood in front of her mirror and rehearsed her lines like she was the starring role’s understudy. When, in fact, the leading lady was right in front of her.
Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Well, what was another disappointment in the grand scheme of things? She knew better than to get her hopes up—knew better than to believe anything would come from a stupid infatuation. And she certainly knew better than to think she could ever recapture who she’d used to be. Swallowing down the pain, she returned to her car and peeled off to the library, determined to lose herself in work for the rest of the day.
But as she entered the building, her phone buzzed in the back pocket of her burgundy corduroy miniskirt.
Looking forward to meeting you tomorrow. 7 p.m. at the tavern still work?
Tyler’s text was exactly what she needed. Her future was not with Joel. To be fair, it probably wasn’t with Tyler either, but his message hammered home why she’d downloaded the dating app in the first place.
It was time to move on. From her ex-husband, from the painful memories of her past, from the life she once thought she’d have. There was no point in ignoring reality or living in fantasy worlds of her own making. She’d had a rough few years, but she wasn’t the first woman to be broken by a man, and she was certainly not the first woman to develop a silly crush. So she typed out a reply.
7 p.m. is perfect. Can’t wait!
She stepped behind the circulation desk and tucked her purse into one of the drawers. Vivian had covered the counter while Mallory grabbed lunch, and she noticed her surly mood immediately.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, never one to beat around the bush.
Mallory grimaced and said, “Just upset about the rain, that’s all.”
Vivian gave her one of those looks—the look of a friend who knows when you’re lying but also knows better than to push. She switched topics instead, handing Mallory a piece of paper.
“Here’s the evaluation form for Monday. We both fill one out,” Vivian explained. “Mine has the usual stuff—employee productivity, work quality, blah, blah, blah. Yours is more about goals and that sort of thing.”
Mallory placed the form down before her hands started shaking. Admittedly, everything about the document was nonthreatening. Four basic questions, with small spaces beneath for each answer. But getting served with this paper after witnessing the scene at the bakery was like a one-two punch.
“Sounds good,” she said, forcing a smile for Vivian’s benefit.
After closing hours, the staff handled the finishing touches for the next day. Tables scrounged up from storage were placed around the edges of the multipurpose room. Popular fiction titles were arranged to make the best use of the space, with several boxes of books tucked beneath the tables for replenishing. Non-fiction went outside the all-purpose room, catty-corner the circulation desk, and the silent auction items were arranged on two tables near the main entranceway. Since that component was her initiative, Mallory dutifully spruced up the gift cards and baskets, placing each item alongside its designated bidding list.
Soon enough, everyone headed home for the night, and she offered to lock up. With the lights low, she sat alone at the circulation desk with a pen in her hand. The ballpoint hovered over the evaluation form but never touched the paper, her entire form as still as a statue.
What do you hope to accomplish as a full-time member of the library?
The first question was straightforward, yet she couldn’t formulate an answer. Moving to the second question, her mind was still blank, rendered completely useless by a simple document.
A loud knock nearly sent her through the roof with fright, and her head jerked up before her gaze landed on the front door.
Joel stood on the other side, hunched under an umbrella with a book bag draped over his strapping shoulder.
When his eyes met hers and that undeniable electric current raced through her, Mallory almost forgot what she’d seen earlier that day. Almost forgot how determined she’d been after receiving Tyler’s text message.
Almost.
She grabbed the keys and unlocked the door, ushering him out of the rain and into the refuge of the library.
“Sorry,” Joel said, closing the umbrella and placing it in the ceramic stand near the door. “I know you’re closed, but I saw your car in the parking lot and thought I’d take a chance.”
“Take a chance?”
He held out the book bag. “That you were still accepting book donations?”
“Oh. Sure,” she muttered.
Limply, she took the bag and headed into the all-purpose room. All his books were thrillers or mysteries, so she dumped them in the correct area and then stepped outside the room.
He examined the silent auction items and said, “You’ve got some good stuff here.”
Back to small talk.
Nevertheless, she nodded and held out the empty bag. “Thanks again for donating. Both for the auction and the books.”
“You’re welcome.” He slung the bag over his shoulder and grasped the lone book tucked beneath his arm. “Mind if I return this?”
“Sure.”
A strangely comforting request. She shuffled behind the circulation desk, eager to return to their proper positioning. Every time she’d been outside of this environment with him, her common sense had misbehaved like an unruly toddler. This was where they belonged. Her on one side of the counter, him on the other. Some pleasantries here and there. No more, no less.
Rain pounded on the rooftop as she checked the title back into the system. Joel waited patiently—for what, she wasn’t certain—although he shifted back and forth on his feet in an antsy manner. When he wiped his hands against his jeans like he often did, a dull throb echoed in her chest in response to the odd habit.
Once she finished checking the book back in, she held it close to her chest and offered him a shaky smile. “Well, hopefully, you can swing by tomorrow and bid on an item. If there’s anything you’re interested in.”
He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I…uh, the Black Cat Bakery gift card looks appealing.”
Easier to shower Christine with coffee and pastries, no doubt. The disillusionment was so acute it was almost a physical burden on her back, making her slouch until her eyes met the ground. “See you tomorrow, then.”
She moved around the counter, her Oxfords clacking against the hardwood floor. Continuing past the dormant stone fireplace, she roamed through the maze of stacks until she found the proper shelf and returned the novel to its home.
Alone among the books, she regained her composure. Seconds passed into a full minute, and then another, until she was certain Joel had departed. But instead of returning to the desk, she stood within the stacks, taking solace in this building. Sure, she might not have it all together, but she’d done something right—she’d found this place. No matter what happened, she’d always have the Honeysuckle Public Library.
So long as she aced the evaluation on Monday.
Before she could return to the desk to revisit the form, her phone buzzed in her back pocket.
You have a like!
She swiped to take a cursory glance at the profile but could barely believe her eyes.
Joel Foster, 39.
The rest of the profile was blank, and it contained only one picture—a photo of him working under the hood of a truck, his face concealed. But there was no mistaking his identity. Not when she’d memorized the shape of his taut biceps and back muscles.
“Fucking finally.”
Her head lurched up to find Joel at the far end of the stack. With an irritated sigh, he shoved his phone into his back pocket and mumbled to himself, “Took long enough. Now I can finally delete this dumb thing.”
She blinked rapidly, positive she’d experienced a super potent delusion. But there he stood, and his profile remained on her phone, though the planet shifted beneath her.
“I’m confused,” she whispered.
That beautiful frown of his magnified. “About what?”
“Um…” She paused, unsure how to answer such a loaded question coherently. “Everything?”
He blew out a breath, adorably peeved. “I saw the app on your phone last week. Downloaded it, hoping it would match us, but it took longer than I thought. Didn’t realize there were so many people on this stupid thing.”
A boulder lodged in her throat, making it nearly impossible to speak. Nor could she think straight, as evidenced by how she strode toward him, grabbed his shirt, and yanked his mouth down to hers like a woman possessed.
No, not like a woman possessed. Like the old Mallory.
Hello, you. Long time no see.
Oh, but how she had missed kissing. The act made her heart flutter like a flock of doves. Made her feel desirable and wanted and like she belonged. And this kiss was explosive—an awe-inspiring fireworks display that lit up every nerve within her.
He tossed the bag over to the side, grasped her slim hips, and growled like an animal setting sight on its prey. Before she knew it, her body was pressed against the shelves, his burly physique crowding her. Lush lips that tasted as sweet as powdered sugar coaxed her mouth open without protest, and the skillful stroke of his tongue riled up her insides. She rose onto her tiptoes and threw her arms over his shoulders, digging her fingertips into the firm muscles. The feel of his body was indescribable. Lightyears beyond the fantasies that had fueled many a masturbation session.
They broke the kiss to gulp in air, and the fact that she’d mauled him with no warning plagued her. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m so?—”
Mighty hands cupped her face, tilting her head back. “Don’t you dare apologize,” he commanded. “Not now, and not with me.”
There wasn’t time to form a rebuttal, because his mouth descended and obliterated the unreasonable contrition. The lust she’d attempted to control completely unleashed, her good reason was nowhere to be found, and all that remained was the incredible sensation of his lips against her own. A tiny part of her knew this path led to disaster, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. Tonight was the time to let her old self run free, to bask in spontaneity, and to finally indulge in the ultimate fantasy. Consequences were inevitable, but she’d face them tomorrow.
Her hands burrowed under his T-shirt, trailing the ridges of his abdominal muscles. Joel hissed in pleasure, his head lolling back as her exploration continued to the downy hair across his pectorals. His chest lifted with a trembling breath, and then he ground his erection against her pelvis without a hint of shame. The act was so blatantly sexual that she whimpered hoarsely, clamping her thighs together to try and generate a bit of relief.
But it was no use. What she needed was his fingers. Those gorgeous hands.
“My skirt,” she whispered.
“Up?”
With a hasty nod, she urged, “Yeah.”
“Thank fuck.”
In a flash, he pushed the fabric up around her waist, revealing her white cotton panties. They groaned in tandem when he cupped her mound, and her head slumped against the books behind her as he rained kisses along the side of her neck. She widened her stance to provide easier access, marveling at how deftly he stroked the damp fabric. When he pushed the cotton to the side and trailed his index and middle fingers through her soaked folds, she cried out.
“Ah, fuck.” His free hand groped her tiny breasts, tweaking the rigid buds through her button-down blouse. “Do that again.”
“Do what?” she panted.
His fingers found her clit and rubbed in circles, drawing a ragged moan from her mouth. A satisfied smile brightened his face. “That. God, that sound.”
And when he pushed one long finger inside her, she sobbed. Her head sagged, resting against his bicep as she struggled to pull air in and out of her lungs. The unrelenting pumps created a delicious tension, and her inner muscles fluttered when his thumb lavished attention on her clit. He added a second finger, stretching her even further, and she feared her legs would give out as she trembled at the knees. Her hands frantically grasped at his sturdy frame, desperate to hold on to anything solid.
“Don’t let me fall,” she stammered.
Even with such a lust-addled brain, she knew there was much more to that plea.
Don’t let me fall for you.
“You’re okay. I’ve got you,” he assured her.
His free hand cradled her face, moving her head to drink her in. Despite her earlier brazenness, she immediately shut her eyes, the vulnerability too much to bear.
“Don’t do that,” he begged in a reedy voice. “You never look at me. Fuck. Please .”
The earnestness in that plea granted her the strength to obey. When their gazes met, her heart kicked into overdrive at the undiluted hunger etched into his features—like he wanted to fuck her until she could barely breathe, then softly kiss every sadness away.
His fingers curled, reaching her G-spot, and her body jolted at the powerful sensation. Her climax was within reach and promised to be frighteningly potent. She gyrated her hips to gain momentum, and he groaned unabashedly.
“That’s it,” he grunted. “Ride my hand. Ah, fuck, you’re driving me fucking crazy.”
Immersed in a cloud of lust, she reached forward and squeezed the impressive bulge straining against his jeans. The deep growl he emitted washed over her like warm honey. But when she fumbled with his belt buckle, his free hand captured her wrist.
“You first,” he ordered, pinning her arm back against the shelf. “We have all night.”
“Joel—oh my God—” she gasped as tremors overtook her. “Oh God, oh God.”
The orgasm took root low in her belly, surging into a peak of powerful pleasure. A ragged scream ripped from her throat as her body quaked, her pussy clamping around his talented fingers. Although she tried to keep her eyes on him, they rolled into the back of her head as she surrendered to the euphoria.
His arm wrapped around her waist, keeping her upright as her body wilted, riding out the final twitches. But she never worried about crumbling completely. He had her, just as he’d promised.
A mischievous voice tickled her ear as his fingers retreated from her core. “I thought librarians were supposed to be quiet.”
Even though she was spent, a hearty laugh tumbled from her. It was exactly the type of joke the old Mallory would’ve quipped, and it boosted her spirits further. She swept her fingers through his dark hair, admiring the softness of the strands, and used the leverage to guide his lips back to hers.
God, he was perfect. This was perfect. She never wanted it to end; she wanted to savor every last bit of him.
“Do you have a condom?” she whispered against his glorious mouth.
“I think so. Fuck, I hope so.”
“Find it.”
As he reached into his back pocket, she dropped to her knees. Her shaky hands undid his belt buckle, going through the motions until his cock sprang free, jutting out from a thatch of black hair. No surprise—his shaft was thick like the rest of him. Not overly long, but so meaty, her hand barely wrapped around it.
He groaned when she grabbed the thickness, the sound awash with lust. Almost comically, he waved a foil packet near her head, which she took absently, letting it fall to the floor beside her. They’d take advantage of the condom later. Right now she wanted to make use of her mouth.
Leaning in, she wrapped her lips around the column of hard flesh and sucked deep. Remembering his earlier words, she kept her eyes on him, mindful to maintain the connection.
“Oh, fuck ,” he boomed, chest hitching.
Always the epitome of strong and steady, Joel’s slow unraveling was immensely satisfying to watch. How he babbled profanities, and one arm tensed as he clutched the shelf, and his other hand lifted his T-shirt enough to give her free rein. She stroked his cock with one hand, moving in time with her mouth, coating the rigid skin with her saliva.
“Oh my fucking God,” he growled in a tone no different from gravel. “You’re gonna kill me. That feels so fucking good.”
Releasing him from her mouth with a pop, she gulped in air. “Take it off. Your shirt.”
Joel heeded her order, lifting the fabric over his head. She thought it impossible to get wetter after such a mind-blowing orgasm, but another gush of arousal materialized at the sight of his bare chest. Her eyes wandered over the landscape of beautiful brawn before she returned to tending to his cock.
A sound rumbled from him—something between a groan and a laugh—as he idly played with her hair. “This is the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.”
The admiration poured off him, bathing her with confidence, and she looked up with ardent eyes. Desperate to please him, she took his cock deep, holding it at the back of her throat for as long as possible. His eyes widened, the light grip around her hair tightened, and otherworldly noises thundered from him.
“The condom,” he heaved once she withdrew for air. “Put it on.”
The packet was ripped, and the condom rolled down the length of him. Joel pulled her to her feet, her knees tender after kneeling against the hardwood floor. Shaky legs somehow held her upright as her panties were swiftly removed, exposing her lower body completely. His trembling hands tried to unbutton her blouse but couldn’t manage quickly enough. The buttons popped off as he ripped the fabric apart, scattering to the ground like the raindrops outside.
“I’ll get you another one,” he promised.
“I don’t care.”
His response was guttural. “I care, Mallory.”
The words were the worst kind of taunt, but she ignored any fanciful notions of a deeper meaning. Ignorance was easy to maintain when he pulled her bra down and uncovered her breasts.
“Fuck. So pretty.” He slanted down to suckle both nipples and then issued a command. “Arms around my shoulders.”
Once she complied, he hauled her up like she weighed no more than a feather. Being surrounded by such potent strength made her gasp, and she trembled when he arranged their bodies properly, notching his rigid shaft against her pussy. Her mind spun at the standing position. Not only had it been ages since she’d last had sex, but she hadn’t indulged in anything other than the three reliable scenarios of missionary, cowgirl, or doggy style in such a long time.
“Open up and sink down onto me. That’s it,” he praised when her inner muscles relaxed and succumbed to the size of his cock. “Oh, fuck yeah, that’s it.”
Both were mostly clothed—his pants around his thighs, and her skirt up and blouse hanging loosely—but it elevated the torridness of the entire encounter. Wedged against the bookshelf with her legs wrapped around his waist, Mallory relished the erotic feel of their bodies joining. It took a few seconds to adjust to the powerful invasion, groans and gasps sounding from both as she reached the hilt.
“Okay?” he asked in a hush.
A rapid nod was all she could manage. Their pelvises connected, and his massive hands squeezed her backside, barely restrained lust written in the action. His whole body pulsated with the urge to take her.
“Fuck me,” she pleaded in a needy tone. “Please.”
“Yeah?”
“Please, please. I need it.”
“Yeah, you do,” he growled, satisfaction interwoven into the words as his hips retreated and then thrust forward. “You gonna look at me while I fuck you?”
“Yes.” When he withdrew and buried himself deep again, she cried out, the sound hoarse. “Oh God, yes. Whatever you want.”
That reply spurred him on, his movements picking up speed. She made an effort to move with him, but the positioning had her entirely at his mercy. All she could do was hold on tight as he pinned her against the books and fucked her senseless. His face contorted in pleasure, and his incredible frame vibrated with exertion as he pounded her. Every thrust was urgent, as if he had something to prove.
The sound of their bodies created a lewd soundtrack, the sexual slaps mixing with the steady thumping of the rain outside. Her moans escalated, and a second climax coiled within her as he continued his relentless pumping. The entire situation was so beautifully obscene that she could barely breathe.
As if reading her thoughts, he leaned in for an open-mouthed kiss, granting her his breath. “You want to come again, don’t you?” he whispered against her lips. “I can feel it.”
Words failed her, so she nodded and dug her fingernails into the skin of his shoulders.
“Don’t hold back on me, okay?” he said, the rhythm of his hips becoming erratic.
“I won’t. Oh God, Joel. Oh, oh, oh?—”
For a second time, her pleasure crested, all the nerves in her body detonating with mind-blowing sensation. It was the first time she’d orgasmed without direct clitoral stimulation, and the pulses, while not as intense, were slow and steady and earth-shattering—just like Joel himself.
“This is fucking unreal,” he rasped. “Fuck, Mallory. Oh, fuck, I’m gonna come.”
The shelf dug into her shoulder blades as he nailed her with chaotic thrusts, his body spasming with heightened passion. He kissed her as he came, the act severe and tender and perfect. His lower body jerked as he emptied himself into the condom, and Mallory clung to him desperately, knowing that, soon, reality would infiltrate.
Joel held her in his arms as they both recovered, their dueling gasps slowly fading into the rainfall. Time passed, although it was not nearly enough for her.
“I’m gonna put you down,” he warned her.
She wanted to protest, but instead, she whispered, “Okay.”
Carefully, he brought her legs to the floor, and she was no different from a recently born foal learning to stand upright. Her hands remained on his broad shoulders, using his burly body as a support system until she was steady on her feet.
As he handled the condom, shuffling over to toss it into a nearby wastebasket, thunder cracked for the first time all day, an indication that the storm was worsening. And that sharp crash pulled Mallory out of her sexually infused state.
Gone was the woman who’d been celibate for ages and needed someone to strum at her body like a world-class orchestra. Gone was the woman who regularly cried in her apartment, the insurmountable loneliness a crushing weight on her shoulders. Gone was the woman who downloaded a dating app, hoping she might be able to trust a man again.
All that remained was the librarian. A librarian nearly at the end of her probationary period, at that. And when she saw the mess she’d made—the books that had fallen from the shelves, the puddle of her arousal seeping into the hardwood floor—panic engulfed her. For God’s sake, she hadn’t even locked the door behind Joel. Anyone could’ve entered the building and seen them rutting like a pair of animals.
She had nothing to show for herself other than this library. It was the most important relationship in her life, and she’d endangered it. All for a man who’d been canoodling with his ex-wife mere hours ago.
This is what you get for reviving the old you.
Hysteria and shame joined forces, bringing every possible worst-case scenario to the forefront of her mind. And that was why, when he returned and leaned in for a kiss, her hands shot to his chest without thinking.
She pushed him away and said, “You need to go.”