Page 15 of The Words of Us

We’re not saying it out loud, but it’s there in every glance, every accidental brush of our hands as we walk side by side. I’ve never felt this pulled toward someone so quickly, but with Evie, it’s like every moment is an invitation to something deeper.

As we get closer, I can feel the anticipation building, a quiet buzz that seems to settle between every word we say. I glance at her, catching the way her eyes flick toward me when she thinks I’m not looking, and it sends a rush of heat to my cheeks. There’s something so genuine about the way she looks at me, like she’s trying to figure out what’s happening between us but is just as caught up in it as I am.

The bookstore comes into view, its familiar silhouette warmly lit from within, and I can already see Kenneth moving about, tidying up the last few things. The place looks cozy and inviting, but there’s something different about it tonight. Maybe it’s knowing that Evie and I will be alone soon and that this space that’s so uniquely hers will be ours for just a little while.

Evie opens the door and we step inside, the bell above the door jingling softly. The bookstore feels different at this hour—quieter, like it’s holding its breath, waiting for whatever’s going to happen next. The smell of old paper and polished wood wraps around us, familiar and comforting, but there’s an edge of something more: a sense of private intimacy that wasn’t there earlier.

Kenneth looks up, giving us both a friendly smile. He’s an older man who doesn’t miss the way we keep glancing at each other or the lingering tension that neither of us is bothering to hide.

“Hey, boss,” Kenneth says with a little wink. “You’re back early. Or should I say back just in time to kick me out.”

Evie laughs, shaking her head as she moves behind the counter, her movements quick and practiced. “Sorry, Kenneth. I think I’m going to close a little early tonight. Thanks for holding down the fort.”

Kenneth gives her a knowing smile then glances at me, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “No problem at all. You two have a good night.” He waves as he grabs his jacket and makeshis way to the door without asking any questions. I get the feeling he’s seen more than his fair share of late-night bookstore closings that have nothing to do with books.

As soon as the door shuts behind him, the atmosphere shifts again. It’s just the two of us now, and the bookstore feels almost sacred, like it’s wrapped us in a secret we haven’t quite spoken aloud. Evie moves around the space with a quiet confidence, checking the register and tidying up stray books, but there’s a new tension in the air—one that makes every second feel heavy with possibility.

I watch her, captivated by the way she handles everything so effortlessly, so naturally. There’s something incredibly attractive about seeing her in her element, the way her fingers brush over the spines of books and the way she moves like she’s perfectly at home in every corner of this place. I lean against one of the bookshelves, trying to keep my cool, but it’s hard when my heart is beating this fast.

My eyes glance over her body, the beautiful curve of her ass in her jeans. The lovely hint of her line of her breasts in her loose fitting shirt and a flash of her stomach as she reaches up to place one book back on a high shelf.

Evie catches me watching her, and she pauses, a shy smile tugging at her lips. “Sorry, I’m almost done,” she says, her voice soft and a little breathless. “I know this probably isn’t the most exciting way to spend the evening.”

“Are you kidding?” I push off the shelf and move closer, close enough that I can feel the warmth radiating from her. “I think this is pretty perfect.”

She smiles, her eyes lingering on mine a little longer this time, and there’s a moment, a single beat, where everything seems to slow. The register clicks shut, the last light flickers off, and Evie moves to the door, turning the lock with a soft, deliberate click. The sound echoes in the quiet, and when sheturns back to me, it’s like all the tension we’ve been dancing around suddenly breaks free.

We were supposed to be leaving, but all I can think about is how much I want to kiss her again. The air between us feels charged, electric, and I can’t hold back any longer. I step closer, my breath hitching as I reach for her, my fingers brushing lightly against her arm. Evie looks up at me, her eyes wide and dark, and for a split second, I think we might actually make it out the door.

But then, before either of us can think too much about it, our lips meet again. It’s soft at first, a tentative kiss that quickly deepens, fueled by everything we’ve been holding back. There’s no hesitation this time, no awkwardness—just a desperate need to feel more of each other, to close every inch of space between us.

We’re kissing like the world outside doesn’t exist, like the only thing that matters is this moment right here in the dim light of the bookstore. My hands find their way into her hair, pulling her closer, and Evie’s hands grip my waist, tugging me against her like she can’t get close enough.

We are supposed to be leaving. But right now, neither of us can seem to let go.

It starts slow. We’ve been slow all day—careful touches, playful glances, hours of dancing around the edge of something we both want but haven’t quite let ourselves take. But now, as our lips meet in the dim light of the bookstore, there’s no holding back.

I kiss her softly at first, testing, tasting, savoring the moment. But there’s a simmering urgency beneath it all, a feeling that’s been building since the coffee shop and our first kiss on the street, and now it’s finally breaking free. The bookstore is dim and quiet; the only sounds are the faint hum of the city outside and the soft, almost desperate sighs that escape between us.

Evie’s lips are warm and insistent, and I can feel the shift in her body as she presses into me, her hands sliding around my back, pulling me closer. We’re moving against the door, my back against the cool glass, but even that feels distant compared to the heat of her mouth on mine. I grab at her waist, fingers curling into the fabric of her sweater, but she takes control, pushing me harder against the door, her mouth claiming mine with a new intensity that makes me gasp.

She pins me there, her hands framing my face, and there’s something so intoxicating about the way she looks at me, like I’m the only thing that matters. But the moment doesn’t stay slow for long. The restraint we’ve held onto all day snaps, and before I can even think, we’re shifting, moving, and reversing positions until it’s Evie’s back against the shelves, her body arching into mine as I press into her.

My hands are everywhere—on her waist, tangled in her hair, slipping beneath her sweater to feel the soft, heated skin underneath. She gasps at my touch, her breath catching, and it’s like a switch flips. We go from tentative to desperate in seconds, our mouths clashing in a kiss that’s all teeth and hunger, pulling at each other’s lips, scraping, biting, needing.

Evie moans softly as I push her further against the shelves, and a few books tumble to the floor, forgotten. My fingers trace the curve of her spine, pulling her closer, and she grabs at my shirt, her hands slipping under the fabric, her cool fingertips dragging over my skin. I can feel the heat rising between us, the air thick and heavy. The AC has turned off along with the rest of the lights, making the room feel even hotter, more suffocating in the best possible way.

I pull away just long enough to meet her gaze, and the look in her eyes—dark, intense, filled with the same raw need that’s burning inside me—makes my knees weak. There’s nothing tentative now, no space for second-guessing or hesitation. Ipress my body into hers, feeling the full length of her against me, and it’s like every nerve ending is on fire, desperate for more.

Evie pushes back, turning the tables, and suddenly I’m the one pinned against the shelves, my breath hitching as her hands roam over my sides, slipping under my shirt and grazing the bare skin beneath. Her lips find mine again, more insistent this time, and I bite down softly on her lower lip, pulling, teasing, feeling her shudder against me. The sound she makes—a low, needy moan—sends a jolt of heat straight through me.

The kiss turns frantic, almost animalistic, as if we’ve been starving for this and can’t get enough. My hands slide up her sweater, pushing it higher until my fingertips brush the curve of her ribs, and she arches into me, gasping as our bodies press closer. The space around us seems to shrink, the shelves digging into my back as she kisses me like she’s trying to consume me, and I want it. I want all of it, all of her.

We’re moving around the store, tangled together, knocking books off the shelves in our wake. Evie’s hands are pulling at my clothes, and I’m doing the same, fingers fumbling at the hem of her sweater, tugging it up and over her head, the fabric catching briefly on her hair before it falls to the floor. I push her back, this time against a sturdy table covered in a stack of old paperbacks, and she gasps, the sound echoing softly in the otherwise quiet room.

Her hands find the waistband of my jeans, yanking me closer, and I nearly lose my balance, the rush of it all making me dizzy. But I don’t care; I’m past caring. I just want her and she wants me, and we’re moving so fast but it still doesn’t feel like enough.

Evie’s lips are on my neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin there, and I gasp, my head falling back as I grip the edge of the table to steady myself. She’s relentless, her mouth hot against my throat, nipping and kissing her way down, and I can feel myown control slipping with every touch, every desperate tug of my clothes.

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