Page 49 of Wicked Me
“What?” Was he asking for sex? Because despite the occasional rational thought I had about him, I wasn’t so sure I could keep my treacherous body from leaping on him. Not after last night. But goddamn it, Ihadto.
“Coffee?” He tipped his head, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “What did you think I was talking about?”
“Coffee. Of course.” I cleared my throat and looked at the spilled mess on the linoleum.
I’d never been a believable liar, but I was pretty certain Sam would know what I’d been thinking even if I was. He was toying with me, making me squirm, often in all the right places. I slid past him to the island, trying not to enjoy the thrill that sparked through my arm when I grazed his side.
The weight of his gaze followed me, and I concentrated on putting one sensible shoe in front of the other without an extra swing to my hips, on bending over the island for the creamer without arching my back and pushing my ass out, on being an ordinary, un-wicked librarian.
“We’re almost out of creamer,” I said, because that was the kind of thing a boring, ordinary librarian would say. I turned around and shook the contents of the nearly empty creamer container as if to prove my point, but stopped when I met Sam’s eyes.
They were lit with a heated desire that evaporated any resolve I thought I had. He prowled toward me, stalking me like some kind of starving animal, and, completely mesmerized, I let him. He cornered me against the island’s edge and posted his hands on either side to lock me inside his warm, velvety cage.
He leaned down, his wild, longish hair feathering my skin, his breath sliding against my cheek to my ear. “You have no fucking idea how good you taste, Paige. I can’t get last night out of my head.”
I let out a long exhale as his words turned into an intense tingle between my thighs. I couldn’t get it out of my head, either, no matter how much I wanted to. Despite his skin’s warmth, I shivered.
“Sam...”
Whatever was happening, it couldn’t. Whatever I’d done to rekindle the memory of last night, I hadn’t meant to. But a part of me, a tiny, microscopic part, wanted to know what he would do if I kissed him. Right now. Tear my clothes off and ravage me right here in the kitchen?
Yes, please.
No.
I took birth control religiously, so the risk of another pregnancy wasn’t my concern. It was him.Hewas my main concern, the one I had the least control over, the one who could destroy my trust and fortify the shame-filled walls I’d built around my heart. Like Rick, maybe Sam wasn’t the person he appeared to be. At least Sam didn’t have a telltale white band around his finger where his wedding ring should’ve been, but still. Rick seemed to believe the Cleary brothers were hiding something, something powerful enough to destroy their dad’s political career, and that should have been enough to give me pause if the rest of it wasn’t.
I couldn’t afford to be carefree, like the stranger who looked exactly like me and who blatantly flirted with Sam at the public library, who’d waited outside his bedroom door last night. She wasn’t me. She hadn’t thrown herself into a forbidden “romance” with a grown man when she was just fifteen. She hadn’t lied to her parents about who the father of her unborn child was. She didn’t try to explain how sorry she was to her baby that she would have to give it up for adoption. She didn’t miss her daughter every single day but was too ashamed, too cowardly, to do anything about it.
Idid.
Sam dropped kisses down my neck, each slow drag of his lips building a steady throb between my legs. Every breath against my skin gave me a delightful shiver. One of his hands had worked its way to my ass to pull me closer.
I made a frustrated growl at the back of my throat at the raging war between my body and mind.
As he dipped lower to my collar bone, I tipped my head to grant him full exposure, reveling in the power of his touch, his soft lips, the hard planes of his muscular arms wrapped around me. My breaths came in short bursts, and soon I no longer needed his help to grind into him.
It would be so easy to get lost in him and fuck him until I became that stranger, until I forgot all about that unopened email from Mom and forgot about Rick. To let my body make my decisions for me like it was so obviously willing to. To detour from my over-planned path of being a perfectly square librarian. With Sam and his panty-destroying good looks and his devilish tongue, it would be so easy to do.
But who the hell was I kidding? I’d spent the last seven years swearing to myself I would never veer from the straight road again. Last night had been a mistake, plain and simple, and it couldn't happen again.
“I have to go.” I shoved him away and stumbled toward my purse and the front door through a haze of desire strong enough to spin me back around if I let it.
So, I couldn’t let it.
* * *
WHEN I STRODE UP THEstairs to the employee entrance of the Library of Congress, my stomach rattled with the sounds of starvation. I’d fled the house before I’d had a chance to eat breakfast, the most important meal of the day. For someone who was supposed to be smart, my lack of intelligence was startling.
Nicole already graced the top step, her enormous tie-dyed bag clutched tight at her side. Her red hair had been piled on top of her head in a high bun, revealing her long, graceful neck. A yellow cord wrapped around it and dipped into the front of her thin, butter-colored shirt.
She smiled and waved. “A bunch of eager beavers, you and me.”
“So we are,” I said, plopping down next to her. “And I’m not even a morning person. But I skipped breakfast, and I don’t know if I’ll make it until our break at ten. I don’t suppose Mr. Hoffa has anything edible in there.”
“Mr. Hoffa?” She glanced at her bag. “Right. Jimmy. I’ll ask him if he’s willing to share.”
I grinned while half of her crawled inside. “I’ll pay you back, I promise.”
