by Aria Cole
His gentle palm roamed my skin and hovered just above my breastbone, as if he held me suspended by his invisible sexual energy, before his long middle finger made contact with the cotton between the rounded globes of my breasts. He dragged one finger down my rib cage, brushing over the soft dip of my navel, before stopping at my waistband. I shut my eyes, longing to get lost in his touch. I wanted to shut off everything and just feel. I wanted his fingers brushing my skin. I wanted to be his muse. I wanted him to make me forget. I wanted to be safe in his arms.
“You’re a distraction,” he said.
With my eyes still closed, I felt almost happy.
His heavy hand clasped mine, leaving me feeling oddly protected and calm. Why was he doing this? Why was I letting him?
“Help me put away the rest of these books.”
In another breath, he was gone, the air absent of his protection, my mind reeling from his simple touch, my body burning up.
“Sure.” Trying to get my bearings, I stumbled to the circulation desk and found my application in the trash and a stack of books that needed shelving. “You’re throwing my application away? Please, Maxwell, I need this job. I love books. I am well-read. My whole life was spent in the library. I’m a hard worker and very dependable.”
“Got everything I need.” His eyes sparkled, and his beautiful lips twitched with a smile before he adjusted the collar of his crisp shirt.
My gaze cast over the bronzed hollow of his throat, the sharp edge of his clavicle, down, down to the dusting of bronze hair peeking up over the top of his shirt. Maxwell Black was a disastrous distraction.
“You were the only applicant anyway, so I didn’t have much of a selection.”
I found my lips turning up on their own. This was my salvation, my escape. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”
“It wasn't meant to be one. If I were giving you a compliment, beautiful Elle, you’d know it.” He moved his body behind me. “You’d feel it here,” he whispered at the nape of my neck and left shivers trailing down my body from his mere breath. “Definitely here.” His fingertips danced at the back of my thighs, inching higher before backing away again. “You’ll know when I want you.” His tone fell another octave and rumbled straight into my stomach, twisting my insides and coiling my core into a tightly wound spring.
“Who says I want you?” I asked, my confidence weak in his presence.
It was his turn to laugh as his belly chuckle filled the small space. I am determined not to show weakness. Men never protect. All this is a mirage, but I’m so thirsty.
“We’ll see about that.” He followed closely behind me as I turned down the fiction aisle and shelved a Daphne du Maurier classic. “And, Elle?” His sexy voice singsonged; he was playful all of a sudden. “I like the chase. When you’re ready, you’ll like it too.”
I nearly dropped the remaining books before I opened my eyes. He was gone again, his tall, burly figure already rounding the corner of the stacks.
Damn him. I wanted him more than I’d ever wanted anything, but I knew with every beat of my heart he would be nothing but bad for me. How could a man like that be good for anybody? And on top of all that, the scar. Whatever had happened to him hadn’t been pretty, yet a part of me wanted to find out. Maxwell intrigued me, and normally I was too frightened to be intrigued.
So I lifted my chin and followed Maxwell, determined to stay in his good graces and keep this job. My life depended on it.
Chapter Three
Maxwell
I woke the next morning; sweet little Elle and her curvy assets had been running through my dreams all night. I tossed my arm over my eyes to block the morning light before feeling my cock flex and jump beneath the cotton sheets. I needed a cold shower, or I was going to have to rub one out before heading down to the library in an hour. Being with her all day would be nearly torture. And Christ, I was supposed to teach her, be close to her, talk to her when all I wanted to do consume her, ravage her, fuck her until she forgot her own name.
My gaze cast across my room to land on the old wooden chair next to the door. On it was the violet scarf I’d found on the coat rack last night after Elle had left. Her scarf. Her scent. Her. The beast in me growled, and before I could think twice, I was on my feet and sauntering naked across the room. My hands clasped the scarf as if I were an addict with a last hit of heroin.
I brought the soft garment to my nose and inhaled. Fresh rain, a hint of vanilla, and strawberries. Not the packaged kind available all year long at the corner store grocery mart but real strawberries, sun-drenched and picked fresh from the field. I inhaled the enthralling scent, remembering the feel of her under my fingers last night. I was desperate to feel more of her.
My cock stood heavy, my balls hanging low between my thighs, before I did the unthinkable and wrapped the pretty purple scarf around my thick cock. The fibers grated against the sensitive tip. Her fresh strawberry scent wrapped around my dick and invaded my nostrils. I pumped once, then twice, before bracing my other hand on the wall. My fist flexed as I pumped my length with more vigor.
“Elle…” I roared a minute later.
Long, hot spurts of fresh cum landed at my feet, a few drops spraying across the soft violet cloth and making my dick twitch at the thought of returning it to her with my scent, my manhood around her neck, claiming her from every goddamn man around. The primal caveman inside me wanted her. I couldn't explain it. I’d never been taken with anyone like this before. She was special, different. The feelings that twisted in my gut when I looked into her eyes told me all I needed to know. She’d walked straight out of my dreams and into my little town, and I would make her mine.
I thrust a hand through my snarled hair and sped to the bathroom, buck-ass naked, before jumping into a chilly shower. I hopped and howled, just as I did every morning, before cranking the heat and washing my hair and body. I stepped out again, dead set on some coffee, thinking maybe I could relax with the morning paper now that I’d managed to calm my morning wood. I tossed on a pair of gray sweats then trotted down the back stairs that connected my second-floor apartment to the small library.
Without turning on a light, I darted through the main room to the coffee maker perched next to the circulation desk. The aroma lured me in as I approached, thankful for the timer I’d started setting a few weeks ago once I realized a cup of coffee before work had become a routine.
I turned and spun on one bare heel, but a shadow at the front door caught my eye. Nestled on one cement step was my dark-haired beauty, an old paperback tucked into her lap as she sat hunched and reading in the sunlight. I caught a glimpse of her elegant profile, the sun casting shadows across her cheeks and glinting off the shiny strands of her hair. She was like an angel perched on my doorstep, ready to fill my life with sweetness and love. Without thinking twice, I crossed the room and unlatched the door. The cool morning air blasted my chest and reminded me that I was nearly naked.
Elle’s head turned, and her eyes hovered at my waist, where I imagined she saw two slashes of rigid muscle jutting into my waistband. I worked out. A lot. It was what I did in my free time to burn off excess energy. I was determined to stay big, remain a formidable force. I liked dominating a room when I entered it. I didn't want anyone to think I was weak.
Elle’s eyes crawled up my waist and my broad pectorals before her gaze settled on my own, returning the intensity I felt pulsing between us.
“Like what you see?” I winked. I was flirting with this girl and enjoying every one of her cute little reactions.
“I guess I’m early.” She shot up, her eyes on her feet and the same scuffed boots she’d worn yesterday.
Where had this girl come from? She’d seemed to waltz in like a stranger, and while I had no right to question anyone’s past, I was curious. Especially after her panic attack on my floor. She was so broken, and I longed to destroy those who had hurt her. How dare anyone clip the wings of something so beautiful?
“Look at me,”
I ordered, feeling my heart thud as I watched her dark chestnut waves whisper in the wind before her round eyes met mine.
“W-what?” she said on a soft wave of air.
I clutched the mug of coffee in my hand, my cock no longer sated from my early-morning incident with her strawberry-scented scarf. What the fuck was this girl doing to me?
“Would you like coffee?” I gestured, unsure of anything else more meaningful to say.
“No. Thank you.”
“Well, you’re here.” I flashed her a meaningful smile. “I’ll go up and put some clothes on, then we’ll get started early, I guess.”
I hated breaking my routine. I never opened the doors a minute earlier than posted, but I liked seeing Elle eager to please on my steps this morning.
I liked her very much.
“Should I stay?”
I turned halfway up the steps to my flat to find her gesturing into the library or up the stairs with me.
“You’re already this far.” I shrugged then continued up the steps.
She followed me up. I could feel her checking out my ass. If only she knew I’d had my cock in my hands just twenty minutes ago, coming to her pretty face and intoxicating scent.
“You left this last night.” I handed the scarf to her with a hint of a smile, thinking of it around my fist minutes ago and the ecstasy I’d gained. The thought of what it’d be like once I finally owned her, sheathing my cock in her deep depths. Would she taste like strawberry too?
“Thanks.” She pulled the scarf from my hands, and our skin brushed, alerting my senses to the constant smell of sex and strawberries that wafted off her.
Or was I making that up? Just a simple case of pheromones? I’d never dreamed about love at first sight, but no one had ever taken the air straight from my lungs on first sight before either, so anything was possible.
“So now you’ve seen the lair.” I caught her arm. “Not so scary?”
I leaned in, desperate for another scent of her. I inhaled and felt her shudder as goose bumps rippled across her skin in uniform salute. I heard the soft swallow of her delicate throat before she nodded.
“So precious.” I darted my tongue out beneath her ear for a taste.
She shivered, fear and arousal rippling through her voice as she said, “What are you doing?”
“Tasting you.”
I pressed my palm at her throat in a move that shocked her. Shocked her and turned her on, if I was reading the shifting thighs and tightening nipples right. I could have tweaked them right then, maybe even found out what shade of pink they were. She’d have let me. I could see it in the hooded eyelids, feel her lust gaining momentum, ready to crash between us.
“You’re turned on, beautiful,” I teased and released. “But we’ve got training to do.” I ripped myself from her intoxicating gaze, handing her a file I’d pulled out last night. “Fill these out.”
I walked down the long hallway, leaving her reeling and trying to make sense of my actions. Keeping her on her toes, that would be the game of the day. After last night, I needed to keep her in a playful mood. Something deep inside me wanted her to open up. To trust me.
Chapter Four
Elle
Maxwell returned to the kitchen a few moments later, adorned in a herringbone vest and dark navy slacks, an academic-meets-hipster vibe. He was a beast of contradictions. The slash of the violent scar across his face made my heart beat wildly every time I saw it. Where had he gotten that scar? Suddenly, I felt the prickling of fear scurrying across my skin. If Maxwell, a man so formidable in appearance, had been hurt, then I had no chance of escaping my past and those coming for me…
In an effort to distract myself, I went to the only bookshelf in the room, small and neat with many older editions. One looked especially old, and I pulled it off the shelf. I was surprised to find it was a worn illustrated edition of Winnie the Pooh. My fingers slid across the timeworn pages and traced the delicate etchings.
“Winnie the Pooh and gang?” I questioned when I heard him approach behind me.
“It’s a favorite. My grandma gave it to me as a kid. I’d get a flashlight and blanket and hide out in the garden reading this book.” He took the book and flipped a few pages. Memories seemed to run through his mind. “I guess it’s the first book I ever read. I haven’t said no to a good story since. I never cared much for company; books were the only friends I ever needed.”
His sweet grin returned, and his words echoed in my mind. How strange that what he’d described was my life. Never surrounded by real friends but those that I collected from the pages of tattered paperbacks from the library. How I would hide, locking myself away from others so they wouldn't ask questions or scold me. I remembered how characters and adventures became my pastime. While reading, I escaped to different worlds and left my sad existence behind.
“I love it.” I traced his wrist with my finger. He was such a contradiction, so rough and sweet. Edgy and intellectual. He was unlike anyone I’d ever met. He drew me to him like a butterfly to brightly pigmented petals. I was helpless to his force.
“I searched high and low for this edition. It’s the same one I had as a kid. I didn’t realize it then, but this was a pretty pricey gift from Grandma.”
“What happened to the one you had as a boy?”
He shrugged, his eyes turning away. “Stuff gets lost with time.” He placed the book back on the shelf then turned to me. I sensed something darker in his eyes, more that he wasn’t saying. “Let’s get to that training.”
He winked and placed a palm at my back like a gentleman, guiding me down the stairs and leaving me feeling as though I was walking on air. Did he make all the women feel this special? I hoped not. I wished selfishly that it was just me, but I knew that was too good to be true. He was too handsome; I was too chubby. Same old story. I just wished desperately that for once life could throw me a twist.
“We still use the Dewey system,” Maxwell informed me when we turned the corner into the dark library.
His words pulled me back into reality, where I needed money and this job to stay afloat on my own. I recalled as best I could how the Dewey Decimal System worked as he scribbled a few numbers on a sticky note and thrust it at me.
“You’ve got two minutes to find this one.”
My eyes widened for a moment before I accepted his challenge and headed down the first row of books.
“Gettin’ colder,” his amused voice called from behind me.
I scrunched my nose then took to reading the spines, heading in the opposite direction. I turned a corner and headed down another aisle before a whisper scared me out of my boots.
“Hotter.” His breath sent shivers down the nape of my neck, and I felt his chest pressing into my back.
Jesus, how did he do that? One look, one word, and I was putty.
I tilted my head, doing my best to ignore him and continue my finger-tracing across the spines as the numbers climbed.
“Hotter.” His growl deepened, and my knees nearly turned to jelly.
I wanted to scream and batter his giant chest. The incessant throbbing between my thighs was driving me insane.
“Almost there,” he hummed.
My clit burned, and I thought he might actually be able to talk me to orgasm right there. His heavy hand landed on mine and stopped both our fingers on a dusty volume.
“Madame Bovary?” I asked without thinking, only feeling him invading my space, my senses, my mind, and how much I loved it.
“Not a fan of suicidal desperate housewives?” He chuckled and backed away again, leaving me reeling.
I huffed, arousal pulsing through my veins and tightening my nipples under the soft cotton of my shirt. “I’m more of an Elizabeth and Darcy girl myself.”
“Ah, a romantic. Of course you are. For a minute, I thought you might be a Sylvia Plath but definitely an Austen. I see it now.” He pinched my chin between his thumb and forefinger before whirling away and stalking down the aisle.
/>
What the hell had just happened?
“Opening time,” he called as I followed him. “We open promptly at nine, not a minute earlier. I may not find you on my doorstep tomorrow, so I’d recommend you not be early again.”
The soft snick of the old latch gave, and he twisted the sign to say “Open.”
He was maddening, frustrating. Sharp-tongued and sexy as hell. One minute, he was undoing me with his words; the next, he was all business. I couldn’t quite put my finger on him.
A wry smile turned my lips as I followed his hulky body to the circulation desk. I was eager for more of his kind of training. Maxwell Black was unexpected, and that made everything more exciting.
Chapter Five
Maxwell
I checked the Rolex at my wrist before taking long strides to the front door and flipping the “Closed for Lunch” sign. Then I turned to the pretty girl at the circulation desk who, despite my best efforts, had left me with a raging hard-on for half the day. And we still had a whole afternoon to go.
Elle’s eyebrows arched in surprise before a flirty grin spread across her face. I found a barrel of laughter tumbling from my chest before I could even think. Just when I thought she was naive and innocent, she taunted me with that sexy curve of her lips and cute button nose.
“Looks like you’ve got something on your mind,” I said when I reached her at the desk.
“Don’t I though?” Her eyes gleamed, and my dick twitched.
I wanted to taste her lips. I wanted to take my time and taste every inch of her until I found the folds of her soft pussy and could bury my face in her. I wanted my teeth nibbling on her turned-on clit, her scent washing over me, embedded in my skin.
