Page 21 of The Bookbinder's Guide to Love

No matter that he’d just decided kissing her would be stupid, talking about Victorian erotica and remembering those long-ago stories had brought his mind straight back to it. Every interaction with her was stronger than the one before it. Sex with her wasn’t ever going to be just about release; he wouldn’t lie to himself about that. But he also couldn’t deny how much he wanted more of her. It was going to take everything he had to resist Sera’s undeniable magic.

Sera knew she should get up and walk out of the tavern before she did something she might regret. But Wes had intrigued her from the moment she’d laid eyes on him. Regret seemed inevitable at this point.

She was trying to force him to make sense. He’d been pretty wretched when he’d accused her of sleeping with Ford, but seeing him tonight, she realized part of that had been anxiety and grief. She was a stranger to him and a friend to the grandfather he’d just lost. Which person was he?

The real man, unfortunately, was something more complex, and she wished that didn’t make him more appealing. He was sort of like a one-of-a-kind rare book. The type she was always hoping to find but hardly did. She wanted Wes because of how complex he was and all the things that made him complicated. He wasn’t sticking around Birch Lake. There was no chance he’d break her heart after one night.

“Oh, woman. Don’t talk to me about porn,” he said. “I’m hanging on here by a thread and thinking of...things I decided I wasn’t going to.”

“Like kissing me in that dark hallway in the back of the tavern that leads to the bathrooms?”

Because that was what she was thinking. Pushing him against the black walls, putting her leg between his, rubbing her pussy against his thigh and kissing him until she came. That was it.

She didn’t know if maybe Liberty had put a spell on her or if it was just her own body needing a connection after losing the one man she’d let herself care about and rely on, but there it was. She wanted a good, hard fuck with Wes.

He was trying to be cool. She knew he regretted how things were with Ford before he died, and there was a part of her that wanted to give him closure. But she needed something different.

Was it wrong to put herself first?

Liberty and Poppy would both say no. Wes was like Earl Grey tea. It was okay for her to have something she wanted.

But was it okay to take it at his expense?

He groaned again and stretched his legs under the table, one of them brushing against hers, sliding between them. The feel of it made her tingle. She rubbed her calf against his just to see what he did. He kept his leg there, shifting. Was he turned on too?

She took a deep breath. “What if for tonight we just say screw it? Pretend we don’t know each other, go back to my place and then tomorrow we can go back to normal?”

If he said no, she’d respect that and she would find someone else to take home. Now that she’d made the connection between her need to get laid and the loss of Ford, she wasn’t going to be able to sleep alone.

She had no problem being alone most of the time. But not tonight.

“Can you do that?”

“I have no fucking idea, but I don’t want to be alone tonight,” she said. “Unlike you, Ford was all I had other than my friends Liberty and Poppy. He was the only man I let myself care about. I miss him—I feel alone. I don’t like it.”

“Okay. Let’s go,” he said. He signaled the waiter and paid for their drinks. “Where do you live?”

“One block from the shop. You can leave your car in the public lot overnight.” Snow was falling as they stepped outside and she pulled her coat closer, reaching back to free her hair from her collar. Wes’s hands were there first; he leaned in close, and she felt the warmth of his breath against her cheek a moment before his mouth was on hers. He pulled her against him right there under the tavern lights.

His mouth was warm and his tongue slowly seduced her with long, languid sweeps into her mouth. She put her hands on his shoulders, then reached up, shoving her fingers into his thick hair, which, as she’d suspected, felt soft and luxurious.

She turned her head as she pushed her leg between his thighs and he lifted his between hers. She felt him right at her center as she moved her hips forward, going up on tiptoe. She didn’t know if this was the smartest decision she’d ever made, but it felt like the best one.

She eventually pulled her head back because making out in front of the tavern wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted him naked, under her, with the fire in the background. She wanted to come as long and hard as possible.

“Let’s go,” she said, taking his hand and leading him up the street.

He threaded his fingers through hers. After a stretch of silence, he asked, “Why was Grandpa the only man in your life?”

She shrugged. “I’m kind of turned-on and enjoying it. I don’t want to talk about...that kind of stuff.”

“What kind?”

“Wes. Damn. I just stopped thinking of you as a toad. Don’t make me go there again.”

He tugged her off balance and into his arms. “A toad? Was my kiss slimy?”

“Not at all. It made me wet and hungry for more, but I don’t want to have sex against the side of a building in winter while talking about your dead grandfather. It’s cold,” she said.

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