Page 41 of Price of Victory
“Don’t I?”
“No. Because if you did, you wouldn’t be here. You wouldn’t have answered my texts, wouldn’t have let me into your room, wouldn’t have…” He gestured vaguely between us. “You can’t stop wanting this any more than I can.”
The accusation hit too close to home, touching on the exact fear I’d been trying not to examine. “You don’t know what I want.”
“Don’t I?” He leaned forward, close enough that I could smell his cologne, could see the flecks of gold in his green eyes. “You want me to touch you again. You want to find out if what happened in that shower was as good as you remember or if your memory is playing tricks on you.”
My mouth went dry, heat flooding my face and other places I didn’t want to acknowledge. “We’re in public.”
“Are we? Because I don’t see anyone else around here.”
He was right. This corner of the library was completely deserted, hidden behind tall stacks that blocked us from view of the main study area. We might as well have been alone, and that realization made my heart race with anticipation and terror in equal measure.
“Aiden…”
“What? You going to tell me you’re too nice to sneak around in the library?” His grin was wicked.
“Not, I just…”
He reached across the table, his fingers brushing against mine where they rested next to my textbook. The contact was brief, innocent to anyone who might be watching, but it sent electricity shooting up my arm and straight to my core.
“You’re impossible,” I said, but I didn’t pull my hand away.
“And you’re beautiful when you’re trying to resist me, especially because you keep failing.” That grin again, it devoured the last of my resistence.
“I’m not trying to resist you. I’m trying to be practical.”
“How’s that working out for you?”
Not well, considering I was leaning closer to him despite every rational thought telling me to put distance between us. The space across the table felt charged, electric with possibility, and I could see the exact moment when his eyes darkened with the same want that was coursing through my veins.
“We can’t do this here,” I said, but my voice lacked conviction.
“Can’t do what? Study together? Have a conversation?”
“You know what.”
“I know I want to kiss you right now. I know I’ve been thinking about nothing but you for days. I know that when I saw you sitting here, looking all serious and focused, the first thing I wanted to do was make you forget about whatever you were reading.”
The words made my heart swell, sending heat straight to my groin. I gripped the edge of the table harder, trying to anchor myself before I did something stupid like climb across it and do exactly what he was suggesting.
“You’re trying to distract me.”
“Is it working?”
“Yes, and I hate that about you.”
“No, you don’t. You love that I can get under your skin. You love that I can make you forget about everything else.”
He was right, and we both knew it. The attraction between us was like gravity, impossible to fight and getting stronger every time we were in the same room. I could feel myself being pulled toward him despite every logical reason to maintain distance.
“This is insane,” I said, but I was already standing up, already moving around the table toward him.
“Probably. But the good kind of insane.”
When I reached his side of the table, he spun his chair to face me, his hands coming up to rest on my hips. The touch was possessive, confident, and it made my knees weak in the best possible way.
“Someone could see us,” I said, even as I let him pull me closer.
