Page 78 of The Trade

He gives his head a slight shake. “You’re just so fucking beautiful.”

“Theo.”

“No, I mean it,” he insists, his hand reaching up to tuck the stray curl behind my ear. “I can’t believe I wasn’t falling at your feet the first time we met.”

I snort in response. “You mean, when you rolled your eyes at me and called me a jersey chaser?”

“Yeah.” He nods solemnly, a tense line forming along his jaw. “Exactly. I was such a goddamn fool back then.”

“That was only, what, six weeks ago?”

“Yeah, and a lot can change in six weeks.” He rises from his seat, pulling my chair away from the table. “I need your help with one more thing before you leave.”

Before I can ask, he’s pulling me to my feet and leading me to the furthest corner of the library, where we sneak in behind towering stacks of books.

“Theo, what are you—”

He interrupts me by seizing my face in his hands and capturing my lips with his own. His kisses are hot and insistent, heavy with unspoken yearning. In seconds, he maneuvers me against the bookshelves, his body pressing me into the cold metal.

“It’s so hard to resist you,” he confesses in a husky whisper, his mouth trailing down to the sensitive skin of my neck.

He teases me with his teeth before latching on to suck at my pulse point. His hands roam over my body in a dance of desire—from my waist to my hips to my ass. He’s kneading me, setting me on fire with each caress.

“Damn, I want you,” he breathes against my skin.

My breath hitches in my throat, and his tongue invades my mouth, tasting and teasing me. He wedges a thick thigh between my legs, and I can’t stop the instinctive roll of my hips against him.

The pressure is intoxicating.

I feel the telltale pulse of my arousal against him, matching the hardness straining in his jeans. And now, I’m gasping for air, desperate little sounds threatening to spill from my lips. My core aches, empty and needy, a heady warmth pooling inside me.

Fuck. I might just come from this alone.

“Did you find it?” a male voice rings out, emanating from a few shelves over.

My eyes snap wide open. I push against West’s chest, trying to put some distance between us.

“I think it’s another aisle over,” a female voice responds.

I glance up at West, working to regain control over my erratic breathing. He’s grinning down at me, running a hand through his hair to tame it.

“That was hot,” he murmurs, his grin widening.

I can’t help but grin back, my heartbeat still racing with the thrill of nearly being caught.

“Shut up,” I whisper back, lightly swatting his chest.

“Make me,” he says, that smug smile still firmly in place.

“You’re insufferable.”

“And you’re a dork,” he teases back. “Let’s get out of here before we get caught by some unsuspecting librarian.”

“After you,” I say, gesturing toward the end of the aisle.

His grin softens into a warm smile as he laces his fingers with mine. “We’ll go together,” he decides.

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