Page 20 of Hung Up

Sharp laughter broke between us and I settled onto his chest. His arms wrapped around me before he kissed the top of my head.

“Yeah . . . it was.”

Note to self: She is mine. Not his—mine.

Waking up with Pierce could quickly become one of my favorite things in this life. His firm body had wrapped around me all night, holding me gently while I slept.

The morning after my call with Jackson, it finally sank in that Pierce was real. I wasn’t in a coma somewhere, or, worse, dead. Which I was especially grateful for because my life had finally been thrown out of its routine, and I loved that.

Amelia had accepted my response, and I checked in with her again letting her know I was just getting some real good dick. The string of emojis she sent in response had me cackling.

For the last hour, we’d been browsing the library for more western romances. Apparently, Pierce really liked how Her Mail-Order Cowboy was going, and wanted to stock up. I was more than happy to oblige.

My footsteps were quiet as I walked the rows of books, eyes trailing over the options. It was dim in the small library, and the smell of books, that signature scent you couldn’t reproduce, draped around me like a comforting blanket. I loved escaping into a fantasy romance, or a paranormal romance, or a why-choose romance . . . I guess any romance did it for me. Especially if there was smut. But this trip was for Pierce.

At the end of the adult fiction aisle, I spotted him.

Six foot one inches of lean, gorgeous man leaned against the sturdy wall of books. Still, I eyed the structure to make sure it would hold.

We’d stopped by Target beforehand and picked him up some more clothes, and a few other personal hygiene items—including his own toothbrush—and now he wore a simple white tee shirt over a pair of dark jeans rolled at the ankle, and white converse shoes. A lock of his messy brown hair fell in front of his face while he read whatever book had caught his fancy, his right hand trailing along the page as his eyes scanned each line.

His lithe fingers were sinewy but strong, with a few prominent veins splicing over the back of his hand.

I wanted those hands wrapped around my neck.

Not now, Harper.

I shook myself back to reality. “Hey, you ready for the next stop?”

I figured it was best to help Pierce experience a whole variety of activities to expand his horizons—and hopefully emotional depth. Although part of me—okay, most of me—was terrified that afterwards he’d realize there was so much more to life than just me, it didn’t feel right to keep him cooped up in my condo.

Pierce looked up at the sound of my voice, his chocolate eyes heated. I glanced at the cover of the book he was reading: Her Demonic Pen-Pal.

I felt my cheeks grow hot, though I didn’t know why. It wasn’t as if this man had been literally face-first with my vagina yesterday.

“That depends, is the next spot somewhere where I can fuck you with my tongue?” His eyebrows waggled salaciously as an older couple walked by us. “This book has quite a few inspiring scenes.” He shook the paperback and smirked at me.

My face must’ve been as red as a cherry tomato, but the older man just winked while his wife chuckled.

“Pierce, what the fuck,” I whispered through clenched teeth. “You can’t talk like that in public!”

“Then let’s go home so I can talk like that in private.”

My pussy hummed in approval.

His solution was so simple, and yet completely the opposite of what I was trying to do.

“No, we have plans, remember?” My brows raised as I held his gaze.

He searched my face, the heat cooling to a simmer in his posture. He nodded and stooped to collect a few more books by his feet. I checked out the titles and I felt the blood rush back to my face. For fuck’s sake, this man was into some raunchy shit.

I loved it.

Checking out his haul, we loaded the books into the car before walking across the street to the coffee shop. Pierce opened the door for me, like a gentleman, and it wasn’t until I crossed the threshold that I paused. Pierce ran into my back a second later, wrapping an arm around my waist to steady us before we fell to the floor.

“You opened the door for me,” I said plainly.

Pierce froze like a deer in headlights. “Should I not have?”

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