Page 24 of Bella and Her Beast
“How embarrassing. Yeah, you go get the drinks. I’d be mortified if I saw him. I may never be able to look at him again.” I hide my eyes behind my hands, shielding my face from his gaze.
He removes my hands and tilts my head up to meet his line of sight. Propping up on his arms, he leans in for a kiss. “Stay the night, please.” His tone is soft and appeals to my senses. He trails a finger over the curve of my shoulder.
There is something in his touch that sets my body ablaze for him. He pulls my deepest desires from within and seeks a mission to meet them, but I want to meet his passions.
“Will you stay?” he reiterates.
“Yes,” I reply.
He lays back down pulling me to his chest resuming the soft gentle strokes from earlier. This lull’s me into a calm and I snuggle in closer, wrapping his arm around me for warmth. “Are we going to sleep here naked, on the floor, with no cover?” I ask.
He doesn’t answer. Instead, he stands and lifts me up into the cradle of his arms. A quick walk over to the floor-to-ceiling bookcase by the window opens into an adjoining room, his bedroom. He lays me gently on the bed then turns to the wall panel to reveal even more hidden items. A gentle push on the seam, and a mini fridge appears.
“What is this, a house of illusions?”
A snicker comes from his lips. “Sometimes things aren’t what they appear. That goes for people too.” He passes me a bottle of water, fulfilling my request from earlier.
“So, are you telling me you are not what you appear to be?”
He crawls onto the bed and hovers just above me. “You tell me, am I?”
“No. You're nothing like I thought. You are proof that you should never judge a book by its cover.”
He kisses me, closed lips, no tongue. Soon, my mouth parts open, inviting him in for a more intimate kiss. The sound of us both inhaling deeply as the other takes our breath away is heard as we tumble around on the bed.
Greyson pulls away and rolls onto his back.
Sensing he wants me to mount him, I lift my leg up and lay it across his thighs before he stops me.
“Am I doing it wrong?” I question.
“No, you’re doing everything right, and we have all night for this. Right now, I just want to hold you in my arms.”
“That I can do.” I slink back beside him and lay my head on his chest.
He reaches into the nightstand and pulls out a book. “How about I read you a bedtime story?”
“Mmm, that would be nice,” I reply.
He begins the story from the beginning, not minding the bookmark he has in place. The timbre of his voice vibrates through his chest as he recites the words from the pages he holds in his hands.
He’s right, you know. Not everything is as it seems. Never thought he would be my perfect bedtime story.
* * *
I lefthis house by Uber early this morning. I fell asleep while he was reading to me only to wake to go to the bathroom. I threw on a tee shirt he had draped across his chair and went in search of the washroom. While in there, I searched for a fresh towel and soap, took a quick shower then climbed back in bed. The warm and inviting water almost had me ready to start my day, but my brain reminded my body of how tired I was. No sooner than my head hit the pillow, his arm draped around me followed by his leg. That distinct bone brushing against my ass woke my desire, and I eased back against it.
He chuckled softly before saying, “you’re not subtle at all.”
The rest was a long passionate night of inhibitions being removed and feelings surfacing that were never felt.
Today, however, holds a strange mood. Part of our children’s summer reading program includes a study of our solar system. Today they focus on the sun and what it means to us besides light and warmth. The little props we use include models the children can design and take home. To say we are busy would be an understatement. I use a few of my free moments to get caught up on the re-shelving of books.
“Hey, miss. Do you know where I can find this sexy librarian who looks very inviting in a yellow sundress with a split up to her thigh.”
His voice cruises through my eardrums, sending audible pulses to my lower region.
“Mr. Devereaux, good afternoon. Did you sleep well?”
