Page 84 of Heart Strings & Hotlines
“Sweetheart, do I have to pry it out of you?” One hand slides up to cup my breast, the pad of his thumb brushing over my sensitive nipple.
A knock at the door has my entire body turning to stone.
“Lottie, dear? You in there? Your door’s locked.”
Thane chuckles. I’m pretty sure he set it to lock automatically since it now has a keypad instead of a key.
He pinches my nipple harder, and I begin to squirm.
“Thane,” I hiss. “Mrs. Perez is right outside.”
“Give me a number.” His hand trails down to cup my pussy through my leggings. If I’ve learned one thing about Thane, it’s that he doesn’t back down from a challenge.
“Lottie? Maybe she’s around back.”
I don’t know who Mrs. Perez is talking to, but I know we have about two minutes before whoever’s with her walks up my back steps to a front-row view of me in Thane’s lap.
“Fine. Ninety-nine point seven percent. We’re a ninety-nine point seven percent match.”
He growls like an animal below me, and his gaze darkens as a possessive streak flares, turning his bright green eyes the color of a pine forest at night.
“I’ll work on that point three percent.” His hands lift me, place me on the sofa, then he stalks to the front door and nearly takes it off its hinges when he opens it.
“Oh, dear. You startled me, Thane.”
“And yet, you’re still here,” he mutters under his breath.
I spring to my feet, ushering him out of the way.
“What was that, dear?” Poor Mrs. Perez.
“He said, he’s so glad that you’re here.”
“Oh. Yes. That’s nice. I wanted to check on you, Lottie.” Her face is pinched tight as she studies Thane. She steps forward to enter as Sharky walks through my back door.
“She looks good to me, Mrs. Perez. See, nothing to worry about.” Sharky winks at Thane, and he frowns. He doesn’t quite know what to make of her, but she’s harmless…mostly. “I got a little book club set up for Kara at the library.”
That makes Thane’s frown deepen even further. “Why would you do that?”
“Well, she’s bored out of her tits, so I told her and Emma that I’d put something together. You need to sign this.”
She shoves a piece of paper at him, which he takes, then retreats to the kitchen island, presumably to put some space between them.
“She needs a permission slip for books?”
“Such is the way of the world these days. I choose books that are age-appropriate, however, not everyone agrees that teenagers should be allowed to read love stories, or stories with biracial couples, anything to do with the LGBTQ community. Really, the list is extensive and completely ridiculous.”
“Why would anyone censor books?” His irritation makes his voice rougher.
“Bigotry is alive and well, my friend. They may hide behind keyboards or dress up in their Sunday best, but they’re still out there, spewing their venom as if it’s the truth.”
Sharky and I have had this conversation multiple times, so I know she’s passionate about it.
“Do you ban books at the library?” He crosses his arms as though she’s the enemy while Mrs. Perez hangs back, taking this all in. I’m sure the Scuttlebutts sent her here on a reconnaissance mission—probably because I haven’t set foot in town all week.
“Never.” Sharky actually gasps the word as if it’s the most obscene thing she’s ever heard. “But we do get the bad apples who like to black out things they deem inappropriate.” She glares at Mrs. Perez, who is suddenly very interested in my curtains.
“I did that one time, in one book.” Mrs. Perez pouts as she runs her fingers along the side of the navy fabric. “And only because Carla-Sue wrote in her trashy little memoir that I slept with her boyfriend in high school, and that was a bald-faced lie. We…what do the kids call it now? Smooshed. We smooshed—we did not have sex.”
