Page 77 of The Backup

“I do enjoy the benefits. But no. I’ve missed you. I like just hanging out with you, too, you know.”

I glance away, fiddling with the edge of my notebook, but his hand covers mine, warm and grounding.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his tone soft but insistent. “You okay?”

I nod, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. Just…I don’t know. You caught me off guard.”

He studies me for a moment, then leans back, his smirk returning. “Want to take a walk?”

A few minutes later, we’re weaving through the shelves, the quiet hush of the library wrapping around us. I clutch a book I pulled off a random shelf—a really big one, heavy enough to double as a doorstop—pretending to read the back cover as we move.

“You’re really into that, huh?” he teases, glancing at the book.

“Oh, yeah. It’s riveting,” I deadpan, turning it over in my hands.

He smirks. “So…you like big books?”

I glance up at him, tilting my head. “I like a lot of big things,” I say, lowering my voice as my fingers trail down his arm. “Why? You hard yet?”

His eyes darken, and his smirk sharpens as he steps closer, his voice dropping. “Not quite yet. Why?”

“Can I help you with that?”

His breath catches, and for a moment, I think I’ve caught him off guard. But then his smirk returns, slow and deliberate.

“Not that this is about taking turns,” he says, leaning in so his lips brush my ear, “but there’s something I want to do.”

“What?” I ask, my voice a little breathless.

He doesn’t answer—not with words, anyway. Instead, he takes the book from my hands, setting it on a nearby shelf, then drops to his knees in one fluid motion.

“Asher—” I start, my voice a mix of surprise and nerves, but the look he gives me silences every thought in my head.

“You okay?” he asks, his hands sliding up my legs, pushing my skirt higher as he waits for my answer.

I nod, my breath hitching as he presses a soft kiss to the inside of my knee. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he murmurs, his lips trailing higher, sending shivers rippling through me.

I brace myself against the shelf, biting back a moan as he moves closer, his mouth warm and deliberate against my skin. The world narrows to just him—the way his hands grip my thighs, the way his tongue teases, the way my body trembles with every soft, maddening touch.

Then I hear it.

Footsteps.

“Asher,” I whisper urgently, tugging at his shoulders. “Someone’s coming!”

He glances up, his eyes still dark with hunger, but he doesn’t panic. Instead, he leans back slightly, adjusting his glasses as he mutters, “Dropped my glasses. Don’t worry.”

The footsteps get closer, and I hold my breath, my heart racing as I see a librarian’s shadow moving down the aisle.

“Everything okay over here?” the librarian asks, her voice casual but curious.

“Yep!” Asher says loudly, still crouched on the floor, pretending to search for something. “Just dropped my glasses. Got ’em now. Thanks!”

The librarian pauses for a moment, then continues down the aisle, her footsteps fading into the distance.

I exhale sharply, my cheeks burning as Asher stands, brushing off his hands with an infuriatingly calm expression.

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