Page 8 of Dallas
“Yes.”
“Cocky.”
“Yes.”
“And bossy.”
“Absolutely.”
I sigh. “What did you want to talk about?”
“Everything. Go lock the door, baby.”
I hesitate. “People will see your truck parked out front and know you’re in the library after hours.”
He smirks. “Good. It will make it easy to start the rumors.”
My breath hitches. “I don’t like the idea of rumors about me.”
“They won’t really be rumors, though, will they? You’re my girl. The sooner that spreads like wildfire around town the better.”
“I can’t be your anything, Dallas. That’s not realistic.”
“Why not?” He steps closer and cups my face in a way that makes me tingle all over.
“Because you can’t just order someone to be yours and declare they are. It’s barbaric.”
He snorts. “Arianna, baby, I don’t have to order you to be mine. You just are. You know it as well as I do. We could pretend otherwise for days or weeks, but why bother?”
“Because that’s what people do, Dallas. If you find me attractive or you’re interested in me, you could ask me out for Friday night or something. You can’t just demand it.”
“It’s Monday, baby. We will have been together five nights by Friday. Now, go lock the door.” He spins me around and nudges me toward the library entrance.
I find myself shuffling in that direction as if I’m a marionette and he controls the strings. It’s frustrating, but if I’m honest with myself, I don’t want him to leave. I want to spend more time with him and hold on to the feeling I have when he’s near me. I want to know if it lingers or fades.
When I have the door secured, I turn to find him only a few yards away. “Good girl. Now, let’s go upstairs.”
Every time he calls me good girl, butterflies take off in my stomach, and my heart races. I like how it makes me react and how he looks at me.
He holds out a hand. “Come. Don’t panic. I meant what I said. We’re not going to have sex, baby. We’re just going to talk in a more comfortable environment.”
I blow out a breath and let this confident man guide me to the back of the library. I keep the door that leads to the stairwell locked during the day so no one wanders upstairs thinking they might find another section of the library. It’s my apartment.
When I fumble with the keys, Dallas gently takes them out of my hand, unlocks the door, and holds it open for me.
He’s so intense and sure of himself. It’s beyond unsettling. What am I doing? This is a crazy idea.
Dallas follows me up the stairs before reaching around me to open the door at the top like a gentleman.
As soon as I step inside, I bite my lip. In two years, I’ve never brought anyone here. I’m instantly kind of embarrassed. “It’s not much,” I mutter.
He closes the door at his back, grabs my hips from behind, and bends to set his lips on my ear. “It’s lovely.”
I shudder, but a soft whimper escapes my mouth when he nuzzles behind my ear.
“You smell so good, Arianna.” He releases me and pats my bottom. “Go change into something you can relax in.”
I glance down at myself. He’s right. The uniform I’ve adopted for my librarian persona isn’t particularly comfortable, but I’m not ready to drop my façade around anyone, not even Dallas. This is the look I chose when I moved to Wilde, and I never break form in front of other people. I don’t even change to go to the grocery store.
