Page 69 of Hate to Love You

My eyes widen, and he chuckles. The sound is low and rough. It scrapes against something buried deep inside me. His mouth hovers dangerously over mine. My heart pounds with anticipation. I want him. My lips part of their own accord. I’m hungry to feel his mouth crushing down on mine. Instead of doing what I expect, he runs the tip of his nose across my cheek. The touch is subtle.

I release a shaky, pent-up breath.

He nips at my chin with his teeth, and I melt against the shelving unit I’m pressed against. His mouth trails across my jawline, teasing my flesh until I groan with need.

“Are you ready for your second lesson?”

God, yes…I’m desperate for whatever he wants to show me. Whatever he wants to do. I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve always been contained, removed. No one has ever made me lose my mind or forget myself.

Brody does that to me. All I’m aware of, conscious of, is him. His hands. His mouth. The position of his body as it aligns with mine.

“Yes,” I moan.

Not once does it occur to me to put a stop to what we’re doing. We’re making out in a public place. Anyone could stumble across us. But that’s not even a thought in my head. The only thing that matters in this moment is the feel of his hands branding my body. His lips coasting over me. The pleasure blooming in the pit of my belly. And lower.

So much lower.

“Good, because after Friday, all I’ve thought about is touching you again.”

With that, he flips me around so that my front is pressed against the stacks.

“What—” I gasp.

“Shhhh.”

Any protest bubbling up in me dissolves when he presses his hard body against my backside. He grabs my hands and stretches them high above my head.

“Leave them there,” he whispers in my ear.

“You’ve got a real thing for that, don’t you?” I breathe out in a shaky voice.

He chuckles. “I like the idea of having you at my mercy. All these years, you’ve been sharpening your claws on me. I hate to admit it, but all it’s done is turn me on. Now you’re going to do what I tell you to. Understand?”

“Yes.”

His fingers trail along my arms and down my sides. Shivers scamper across my spine as he grips my hips and pulls me flush against the lower half of his body. The feel of his erection pressing into me nearly makes my knees buckle. His hands slide around to the button of my jeans and flick the metal disk from its hole.

“Brody…” My teeth sink into my lower lip. As much as I want him to touch me, we can’t do this. Not here.

“No talking,” he whispers harshly. “Only feeling.”

“But—” my voice rises in panic.

“I said no talking, Davies.”

My heart thunders as his fingers draw the zipper down. Parting the material, he traces lazy circles across my lower abdomen. I turn my cheek so that it rests against the spines of the books. My eyelids feather closed as he dips his fingers into my jeans, grazing the edge of my panties.

As wrong as I know this is, there’s a growing part within that doesn’t give a damn. When Brody lays his hands on me like this, all rational thought disappears.

“What do you want me to do?” His fingers dip inside the band but don’t descend any further.

Even though I shouldn’t, I groan out the words. “Touch me.”

“I am touching you.” His voice is silky soft. Almost playful.

“You know what I mean.” I wiggle against him, trying to get his fingers to slide inside my panties.

“You’re right, I do,” he whispers against my ear. “I know exactly what you want.”

---