Page 7 of Night Shift

But Vincent doesn’t seem to mind that I’m not perfect, and maybe that’s all that matters.

Life is far too short to let my shot at feeling like I’m in a romance novel pass me by.

With a deep breath to bolster my bravery, I tilt my chin up again and offer my mouth to Vincent. He holds me with his thumb on my pulse point and his fingers in my hair as he brings his head down to kiss me once, gently, and then again. They’re quick, featherlight brushes of his lips against mine—like he’s teasing me. I make an impatient sound in the back of my throat, suspiciously like a whine, and Vincent laughs.

Then he kisses me properly.

I gasp as Vincent’s mouth comes down over mine. My lips part, and our tongues brush, tentatively at first and then with bolder, exploratory swipes and twirls. It’s not like the clumsy, alcohol-soaked kisses I’ve had before—this is something entirely different. It’s purposeful. Deliberate.

This is how it feels to kiss someone when the only thing clouding my head is a desperate need to know what he tastes like.

Vincent’s tongue swipes over my bottom lip, followed by the gentle scrape of his teeth. I gasp. It’s hard to hear anything over my heartbeat pounding in my ears. When he dips lower to brush kisses along my jawline, I shiver and reach up to thrust my fingers into his dark hair. It’s thick and silky smooth.

I give his hair a soft, experimental tug.

Vincent groans against my neck. I feel it deep in my bones, reverberating like an echo and striking me right between my legs. I squirm against him and inhale sharply when I feel it—hardness beneath his soft black joggers. I don’t know why I’m so shocked. I know, from my extensive literary research, how this all works. But the idea that Vincent is sporting an erection for me sends a flood of heat to my center. Instantly, I resent his pants and my own leggings for being in the way. I want them gone. I want only skin and for Vincent to press me open, warm and slick and vulnerable. I slide my hands to his biceps, clutching at the hard muscle under strained cotton, and use the leverage to roll my hips against his.

“Fuck,” Vincent says against my cheek. “You’re gonna kill me, Professor.”

My center clenches at his words. And then a horrible thought occurs to me: He doesn’t even know my name.

Four

I lean back and gulp in cool air, trying to get my bearings. Vincent takes the opportunity to duck his head and plant attentive kisses along my exposed collarbone.

He’s good at this. Suspiciously good.

“Do you make a habit of seducing women in libraries, or is this a new thing for you?” I want it to sound like a joke, but I’m sure he can hear the anxiety seeping into my voice.

Vincent presses one last kiss to the base of my throat before straightening to look at me.

“No,” he says, then amends: “I mean, I’ve seduced women, but never in a library. And that wasn’t what I was trying to do. I really do have a paper due Monday, and this stupid fucking brace”—he lifts his injured arm and lets it drop back to his chest—“is real. I sprained my wrist during summer training. It’s not just a bid for sympathy.”

I watch him through narrowed eyes. “Just sprained?”

“Fell on it coming down from a contested layup.”

“Hmm. The sling seems pretty serious.”

“My coach,” Vincent says tightly, “might’ve overreacted. He doesn’t want me to miss any more games than absolutely necessary.”

I press my lips together, remembering all the footage I’ve seen of him getting rough with the opposing team on the basketball court. The words bubble up into my mouth before I can think them through. “You sure you didn’t punch someone?”

Vincent sighs and tips his head back, eyes on the ceiling. “I take it you know who I am.”

“Just because I don’t go to parties doesn’t mean I’m completely out of touch with what goes on at this school.”

“Have you ever been to a basketball game?”

“No, but I saw the video of you breaking that guy’s nose last year.”

Vincent winces. “Not my brightest idea. That asshole had it coming, though.”

“What’d he do?”

For a moment, he seems surprised—like he expected me to preach about violence never being the answer.

“He said something he shouldn’t have.”

---