Page 6 of When Night Falls

The mysterious man closes the book gently and turns his head over his shoulder to look at me.

"What do you know about Poe?" he asks, and I find his response bemusing but I welcome it nonetheless.

"I know that he's macabre." I decide to entertain his topic as he turns his whole body to face me.

I have to lower my head and force myself to breathe steadily and not stutter over my thoughts because at first glance, his features mystify me. On second glance, looking up slowly so as to not seem too eager, I recognize that he is utterly gorgeous. Even in the dimly lit space between the bookshelves I can see the charm exuding from his demeanor. In fact, it gives him more of an appeal this way, but I don't want to show him I think so.

Just then, he smirks and I have to focus my attention on something else.

"I find his writings rather romantic," he argues back, and I almost have the courage to laugh at his conclusion.

I cross my arms over my chest and cock my head. "Romantic? I don't even think he writes a single romantic thing, unless you countEleonoraas romance." I'll be honest, I don't know much about the author, so I hope I'm not embarrassing myself. I too am one of those readers that would reach for an erotic romance before anything else.

"It depends on how you look at it." He leans up against the shelves again as he grins to himself, running his hands smoothly down the front of the tattered cover. It's intentional and carefulthe way he caresses the book, almost like he can appreciate fine beauty when he sees it. The gesture makes me blush.

I’ve never experienced having an attraction to someone before. But I would say that based on the way I feel as sweat percolates at my hairline, the way my eyes can’t seem to stop looking over every inch of his figure, feeling heat spike my skin as I do, solidifies that I am in fact heavily attracted to the man in front of me.

But strangers kind of scare me. If people whom I know in real life can treat me so brutally, then what would make me believe that a stranger wouldn't inflict the same kind of pain? The monomania is real, the belief that everyone is simply out to cause me harm. But his demeanor seems inviting, alluring, and warm and I have to thank the fact that I dimmed the lights a few minutes ago only for the simple thought that, hopefully, he can't see my cheeks glowing pink right now.

"It's horrific," I finally respond back, noticing that he was watching me, waiting for the response that took too long to manage.

"Horrifically romantic." His lips curl up again, a smirk that I know I'll never be able to forget, permanently engraved in my memory.

It's safe to say that I'm no longer worried about getting robbed or murdered in my place of work but the reason my heart skips a beat nonetheless, the reason why my words evade me, is his eyes.

He looks up from the book and settles his eye contact directly on mine. I feel myself gasp. Daunting, but in a beautiful way. Mesmerizing. A bright, rapturous green like I’ve never seen before. I have to close my eyes to avoid the sudden takeover of nerves that flood me.

I take a deep breath, allowing myself the beat to compose myself only to open my eyes and finding myself needing to examine the rest of him.

His dark hair accentuates his olive skin, his biceps tight in his shirt and the outline of his chest is visible against the restraints of the buttons. His jeans hug him in every delicious way possible. The curve of his lips intimidates me as he watches me, and I have no shame in doing so.

"Anyways, we're closed." I attempt to change the subject if only to escape the weird feeling I’ve subjected myself to. "So you'll have to come back tomorrow if you want to buy that horrifically romantic book.”

He reaches up to place the book back onto the top shelf where he got it. I watch in awe as I admire his height. He has to be at least six-four, easy. He didn’t even have to stretch to put that book back whereas I would have needed the step stool for the extra eight-inch lift.

I can't help but watch his body flex as he cautiously slides the book into place. It’s an attractively innocent gesture, one that has me really delusional to the fact that I’d let this man kidnap me, if I were into that kind of thing. He's attractive as fuck, and seemingly witty. But it’s not lost on me

I see him lower his head as he smirks to himself almost in a way that tells me he knows something that I don’t and that makes me feel like he’s got something on me, the playing field is unleveled.

My attention is finally pulled as the wind rattles against the windows in harsh whispers, as if in warning. Caution now engaged.

“My apologies,” he says, his voice is crafted with a smooth tone, a deep timbre and something nefariously comforting. Absolutely dreamy to say the least. "I wasn't aware of the hours."

“That’s okay, I can let you out behind me.” I step aside to let him walk past me, trying to keep my distance.

He stuffs his hands in his pockets and tilts his head before getting the hint, walking past me and toward the door. I walk closely behind him, readily prepared to mace him in the face if he so much as turns around threateningly.

The click of his shoes echos as the only other thing I can focus on is my racing heart. His scent wafts behind him and hits me in my core. He smells like all things sinful and midnight. Intoxicating.

When we approach the door, he steps aside to let me unlock the door and as the deadbolt clicks, a small chuckle falls from his mouth.

“What’s so funny?” I ask him in a curious tone while I pick my bag back up off the floor where I’d left it.

“I can’t help but notice the pepper spray you clench firmly in your hands. Are you afraid I might be here for a reason other than a simple mistake?” His hands are still in his pocket as his eyes seemingly devour me. But I’m not gripping the mace because I’m afraid he’ll turn out to be an actual murderer of sorts. I squeeze the small device tightly because I can’t calm my racing heart, his presence is intimidating and I can’t seem to escape hisair.

He has an air about him and it’s too much for me to handle right now.

"You did scare me, to be honest," I admit. "Not because you snuck in past me but because you think Poe is romantic," I quip, trying to lighten the mood in the most casual way I know how.

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