Page 16 of Hot Blooded
“What about you? Your perfect day…” I’m more curious than I care to admit.
“Let’s see…” She taps her chin. “Time spent lost in a book. That’s a given.”
I nod. I can’t say I’m surprised by this, given her proclivity for my library.
“An environment where there’s no judgment. About me. About my past,” she adds. “And a place, amomentwhere I can just forget about everything else, and just…be.”
Something deep inside me pinches in recognition of what she must have been through in her past to feel like she needs to disappear.
It’s not lost on me that everything she desires is something I’m uniquely in the position to provide her. The urge to meet all of her needs, no matter how big or small flares inside of me.I’m not sure how or why, but seeing this human smile, ensuring she’s okay just became a priority. Oh, and not biting her, or fucking her and stuff.
Obviously.
Chapter 9
Tressa
I've spent every day for the past three weeks doing the same thing. Wake for the day at seven, enjoy a coffee and a light breakfast that Mrs. Potts sets out for me, and then I do fifteen minutes of light exercise—sit-ups and pushups and the like in my room while my bathtub fills. Then I bathe and get myself ready for work. Apparently, I’m a bath person now, because I can’t seem to pass up the chance to soak in this luxurious tub, even when there’s a beautiful glass shower in my ensuite bathroom too.
I head to the library by eight thirty and spend all day there. Mrs. Potts usually brings me a sandwich for lunch, which I eat while working at one of the large study tables. I stay until the late afternoon sun begins to fade and casts the room in long shadows.
Reign checks in on my work once or twice a week, but for the most part, he's left me to my own designs.I’m not sure what he does all day, but he works for a bit in his office, and he comes and goes in his sleek black car. I don’t know why it should fill me with such curiosity about where he goes, but I’m itching to know. It’s a good thing I have my work to keep me busy.
It takes me some time, but I think I've finallycome up with an organizationalsystem that will work. I’ve told him of plans to create piles of keep-donate-sell. Well, piles is the wrong word. Reign has too many rare and vintage texts to stack merely up in a pile. Can you imagine? So, for now, the east wing of the library, for instance, has become a holding place for all the texts I think we can purge.
They are neatly and categorically placed on tables. Reign seemed to approve of my plan. Once I have the donate and sell texts weeded out, then I'll begin a new shelving system complete withnew computer software, so that he can easily look up and locate whatever book he desires. It will function as a real library.I’ve been giddy at the prospect of how glorious it will be.
It’s already such a wonder, but this will truly set it over the top. Knowing which books can be found where is important, after all.
There’s also regular maintenance that’s required on a vintage collection of books, cleaning and restoring are necessary, as is rotation.
In the evening, I go for a stroll on the manicured grounds outside and admire how bright and plentiful the stars are in Colorado. Reign and I have continued our conversations and everything about him continues to surprise me.
Pleased with my progress for the day, Isave the spreadsheet I’ve been working on and close my laptop. Then I stretch leisurely.
It’s late afternoon and I’m considering ending my workday when Reign comes strolling into the library. The energy in the room changes when he enters, and all my attention somehow seems to focus on him. That same electric feeling crackles imperceptibly between us, swamping everything in a haze of lust and confusion.
It’s a silly reaction and I’m sure it’s entirely one-sided. Reign seems to enjoy my company and our talks, but it’s doubtful that he views me the same way that I view him—with arousal and desire. Which is quickly followed by a hefty dose ofshame, because Reign is my boss, and I shouldn’t spend my free time fantasizing about him.
“Working hard, I see,” are the first words that leave his beautiful mouth as he offers me his hand.
I accept and let him guide me up from the chair. “Yes, but I’m about finished for the day.”
“Good. I was going to suggest you take the rest of the day off, you’ve been working too much.”
I lift my eyebrows at him.
“Not that I’m not grateful.”
I chuckle softly.
He leads us to the comfy club chairs beneath the large windows in the library. The day is cloudy and drizzling, creating an eerie gray vibe.
We make small talk for a while, while I try—and fail—not to notice how dashingly handsome he is.
“Why do you love books so much?” he asks, tracing a slow pattern into the skin on my wrist with the pad of his index finger. He’s gotten more comfortable touching me, and I’m really not sure what to make of that, little stolen touches here and there, but I wouldn’t dream of asking him to stop. His hand on the small of my back as he escorts me from one room to another. His fingertips at my elbow as he guides me into a chair. And now… just because. His skin is smooth and temperate. I like the feel of it… a lot.
His question hangs in the air between us.
