Page 37 of His to Keep

My heart jumps to my throat. He’s now standing beside me, hands behind his back, blue eyes looking shades darker in here. I swallow hard. “Not even the library in town has such books as these. Read this.”

He takes it off me, and as he reads, one of his eyebrows rises as his eyes lift to meet mine. “Anyone would think you’d like me to caress your swollen brea—”

Gasping, I snatch the book from him and shove it back on the shelf, face burning with so much heat, I know I’m bright red. “Let’s clean the fireplace.”

I go to walk away when he grabs my arm and suddenly pulls me back. Pressing me up against the shelves, I’m no longer breathing as his arms trap me in. He stares down at me, and being this close to him makes my head spin. We’ve both tried to be friends. Even when I’d catch him staring at me, torment on his face, we’ve not done anything since that night. Even when I’ve felt the same. Wanted him as I’m sure he wants me. Yet, here he is, breaking all the boundaries we’ve built between us.

Saying nothing, he grabs my hand, the same one his father touched, and lifts it to his mouth, kissing my knuckles with his lips. “I hate it when he touches you.”

“Me too,” I whisper.

“Do you hate it when I do?” I shake my head, and he sighs. “You should.”

“I should…but I don’t,” I admit, putting my hand against his cheek and rubbing my thumb against his soft skin. His eyes close for a moment, and when they open again, they burn bright, making them look cerulean even in this sad room of forgotten, dusty books. Leaning up onto my tiptoes, I peck him on the lips. Realizing what I’ve done and our promise to be friends, I gasp and pull away. But he grabs me and slams his lips against mine, kissing me harder than ever. My back falls against the bookshelf. Books topple to the floor around us, but neither of us can seem to stop. His arms encircle my waist and then mine around his neck, shifting his knee so that it’s now between my legs, anchoring me in place so that my spine isn’t scraping off the shelves.

The sudden contact makes me gasp, and I find myself moving against his thigh, grinding my heat into him. Chasing the burning feeling that hasn’t ever gone away since the night I saw him touching himself. Moaning, I squeeze mounds of his sweater as he trails blazing kisses along my throat, his hands cupping my breasts over my top, just like how the man did to the woman in the book.

“Callum,” I groan his name, my movements becoming jerky and sloppy, the pulse intensifying the more I rub myself against him. “I’m…I’m going to….”

A bang in the distance snaps us both out of it. My body turns to mush as Callum rips away from me and moves at lightning speed to the door to unlock it again. Bending down, I pick up the fallen books and shove them precariously back onto the shelves. Father Aaron may not come in here and know what resides on these shelves, but I certainly don’t want him to see what might have influenced us just now. We both then rush over to the fireplace and set to work, even though dust gets into my eyes and Callum drops the shovel, causing a loud clatter on the floor. My head is spinning as I try to keep composure, hearing footsteps coming closer to the library.

The door opens, and Penny pokes her head inside, eyes narrowing when she peers at us. I’m sure she can see the deceiving blush tinging my cheeks and Callum’s tousled hair from where I grabbed it.

“We’re almost done,” Callum says to his mother, not looking at her, for I’m sure if he were to, she’d see sin painted in his eyes.

Wordlessly, she backs out, like a ghost dispersing into the darkness. When the door closes, I glance at Callum and whisper. “I think she knows.”

He sighs. “We can’t do this again, Ava.”

I nod. He’s right, but how can we stop when it seems neither of us can? Getting up, I nudge him playfully to lighten the mood. “You started it.”

He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “And now I’m finishing it.”

No, I think to myself,Penny finished it.Almost as if she knew.

* * *

That evening,after the fires are clean and lit, John and Father Aaron return just as the heavy flurries of snow begin to stick to the ground. Callum and I go to our room, this time with no John behind us demanding wehurry up. The door remains unlocked, and it’s strange to know that I can go anywhere in this house with or without Callum. The thought unnerves me. Maybe tomorrow I’ll be braver to explore, but for now, I’m content where I am.

Callum goes into the bathroom just as I settle into bed. Lying down, I will sleep to come, but I can’t get what happened in the library out of my head. I can’t lie. The risk we took excited me, making me want things I know I can’t have. Like right now. My bodyaches, and it’s so overwhelming I want to cry or scream. Whenever I close my eyes, I see us together. Callum touching me over my clothes while giving me dizzying kisses. Something I realize I want so badly again.

Without realizing it, I’m rubbing myself with my hand over my dress, seeking the nice friction I’d felt in the library. My mind is a series of visions of Callum doing the same in the bathroom right now. Relieving himself to rid the temptation. But as I lie there, I realize it’s not the same and stop. A part of me has the urge to throw open the bathroom door and beg him to get rid of this. Whateverthisis that I crave. Close to tears, I force myself to go to sleep, dreaming about doing sinful things in the library with the devil.

Speaking of.The bathroom door opens softly, and my eyes open again. Callum walks out with a towel wrapped around his hips and hair pushed away from his face. Grabbing clean clothes from his drawer, I look up at the ceiling as he dresses, despite the burning curiosity to watch.

In the distance, the clock chimes when it reaches eleven, and just as I think it’s about to be another night of pretending the bed dips, and Callum lays down beside me. My face flames. All he’s wearing are his pants. The rest of him is bare. My stomach knots, wanting so much to reach out and touch him. Instead, our eyes lock, and I’m frozen. Lost in endless blue. What a mess we’ve created.

“You’re not fair.” I lightly draw my finger across his forehead, moving some fallen strands of hair from his eyes. His eyelids lower, and he breathes out through his nose as if my touch has a relaxing effect on him.

“I like it when you look at me,” he says. “How your eyes light up, and your lips part a little. I like that I’m the only one you look at like that. Even if I do disappoint you.” He puts his finger on my lips, his hand smelling of soap, and gently pulls my bottom lip down. “You want something I can’t give you.”

My lip flicks back up as he lets go, and I sigh sadly. “You can, but you don’t.”

“Because I’m not good enough for you. I don’t deserve you.” He looks annoyed.

“I don’t believe that. Is it not my choice to decide whether you’re good enough or deserving?” There’s disappointment in my voice, and Iamdisheartened. “I like you. Is that so wrong?”

“You know it is,” he mumbles, and my heart sinks. That I just admitted that I liked him, and he said it was wrong.

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