Page 4 of Wicked Me
I scanned the titles, barely able to register anything but her, and plucked what I thought was the right book from the shelf. When my gaze met hers again, the small distance between our lips made both my heads pound with need.
Her tongue shot out to lick her lips while she stared straight ahead at my chest.
My conscience, who always played dead in these types of situations, stopped me from diving into her and taking her right here in the men-in-kilts section.
She didn’t know who I really was. That I was Sam Cleary, little brother to the man both our families thought she would eventually marry, first semester college dropout, womanizer, and despite my best efforts, a bad guy.
I was a loser compared to Paige. I didn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as her. Yet here I stood, seconds away from kissing the one girl I’d crushed on since childhood.
“Take off your sunglasses so I can see you,” she said.
I held the book out for her to take. “No.”
As she took it, her fingers brushed mine. “Then tell me your name.”
When I didn’t say anything, she placed a hand against my chest and pushed. “Then I guess this is goodbye, stranger. Thanks for the book.”
I pressed myself in so she couldn’t escape. A little too close. So close her lips almost touched mine. “Wait, Paige.”
Her mouth parted, but then her body stiffened. Her eyes searched my face incredulously. “I never gave you my name.”
“Excuse me,” an irritated voice at the other end of the aisle said.
Shit and double shit.
I tore my gaze away from Paige’s probing stare to see a stereotypical librarian glaring at us, bun, cardigan, pissed-off expression, and all.
“This is a library, not a brothel,” she warned. “Have some respect for yourselves and our patrons, please, and keep all body parts to yourselves.”
“Sorry.” I offered her a crooked grin, but it wavered when I glanced back at Paige and her flaming-red face. “We’ll go somewhere else.”
Yeah, probably not.
“See that you do.” The librarian sniffed and walked on.
Without a word, Paige wriggled out of my arms, collected her bags, and ran out of my life. I stared after her a split second before I followed, but it was a second too late.
The security guard stepped between her and me.
“Don’t worry,” I said and plowed maybe a little too roughly around him. “I’m leaving.”
The guard locked thick fingers around my arm in a death grip. “I’ll show you the door in case you get lost.”
Several yards away, Paige sped around a corner, in the opposite direction of the door. I needed to find her, explain to her who I was.
“My girlfriend,” I said, pointing. Right. I wished.
“She’ll meet up with you outside. This way.”
I could’ve shaken him loose and gone searching for Paige, but I didn’t see the point in raising more commotion. She would come out eventually. Then we could talk.
When we were outside, the guard said, “Have a nice day” and shoved me toward the concrete steps.
Point taken. I drifted toward the parking lot while keeping my gaze on the doors behind me.
I’d scared her. I should’ve told her who I was right from the start.
I strode to my car to wait for her, the summer sun quickly melting all traces of the library’s air conditioning on my skin. Stifling heat rolled out from the open door of my Chevy in waves. The seat’s leather burned my back and ass. As soon as I keyed the ignition to crank the air, the back passenger door flew open then slammed closed.
