“This isn't a joke, Masters.”
He tucks a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “Until you tell me what it is, it’s not a reason to stay apart either.”
I suck in my lower lip to prevent throwing myself at him and telling him to take me.
“Why?” I ask helplessly.
“Because I like you.”
He grips me by the chin and lays down the gentlest, sweetest kiss. In that kiss, he tells me everything. That he wants me. That he’s willing to take it slow. That he’s not giving up. He kisses me as if this is the only thing he wants to do for the next ten hours.
His lips barely move but I can feel everything in me surge toward him. The short wedges I shoved on this morning feel precarious. I grip his shoulders to steady myself and then find myself rising up on my tiptoes to press deeper against him. He hauls me flush against him until I can no longer touch the floor.
His one hand palms nearly my entire back while the other angles my head for better access. He may be a virgin, but the guy knows how to kiss. His tongue finds places inside my mouth that I didn’t even know could feel good.
All the pent up desire boiling in me for days comes pouring out. I attack him with my kiss, biting his lower lip, sucking on his tongue. Against my belly, I can feel the hard ridge of his very large erection. The image of him standing in that dim light, stroking himself until he comes, flits through my mind in a series of graphic, 3-D images.
“God,” I breathe as he abandons my mouth to trace the line of my jaw with his lips. He growls in response and pushes me back against the bookcases, but I don’t even mind that the shelves bite into my back. I just want more.
He gives it to me. We cling to each other, feeding off each other’s seemingly endless need, until I hear a gasp and then a muted giggle. Those two faint sounds somehow manage to break through the haze of lust, and bring with it the realization that I am in a very public place. I wriggle against him and he sets me down reluctantly.
“We're in the bookstore,” I say in a scandalized voice.
“You've never kissed a guy in the bookstore before?” He grins, the wicked mischievous grin I'm beginning to associate with something tremendously naughty. “There's a first time for everything.”
He steps away, breathing heavily. His untucked T-shirt—the one I apparently ripped out of his shorts—hangs long enough to cover part, but not all, of his bulge. After he’s done adjusting himself so as not to scare any children in the store, he strides over to his abandoned books.
Riley’s face pokes itself around the end of the bookcase. “Is it safe to come into the True Crime section? Because I saw some mauling going on and ran for safety.”
“Har, har.” I push back my hair with a weak, shaking hand.
“Who's this?” Masters says, returning with his two books. Make that one of his books and the book that belongs to me if he would let me buy it.
“Riley Hart. Knox Masters. Masters, this is my roommate, Riley.”
“We're back to Masters, huh? Disappointing.” He shakes Riley’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”
“You guys look like you had an intense conversation.” She smirks.
“Ellie and I are discussing where she’s taking me on our first date. I hope it’s not to that dog movie. I swear he’ll die at the end and then I’ll sob like a fucking baby. Nearly had to walk out of Bridge to Terabithia. That shit is not good for my image.”
Just like that, Riley’s pants get charmed off.
“You could go to one of her intramural softball games,” she offers helpfully. “They play on Wednesdays.”
I glare at Riley for revealing that tidbit, but she avoids my eyes.
“Intramural softball? I like the way you think.” He smiles at Riley and she smiles right back. “Tell you what, I'll buy that fantasy book, but you can read it first. Then when you're done you can bring it back to me, and we'll go out and discuss it. Hold on while I pay for these books.”
“No,” I protest but neither pay attention to me. Masters leaves, and this time both Riley and I watch that fine ass, covered in cotton, as it disappears from sight.
“Stop panting. It's embarrassing,” I grouse and pull myself away from the bookshelves.
“Holy shit. I take that back. Did I say I wasn’t into athletes? Because I’ve changed my mind. Football players are totally my type.”
They’re everyone’s type, I think sourly.
“And Christ on a cracker, he devoured you.” She laughs semi-hysterically. “I once heard this ridiculous rumor that he's a virgin. Can you believe it?”
“No, I can’t.”
“Yeah, I thought it sounded off when I heard it. Probably some—what do you call them?” She winds her hand.
“Jersey chaser? Gridiron groupie?”
“Yeah those. Probably one of those got turned down and started the rumor because, honey, he wants to do you so bad I thought for a minute he'd take you right here and now, and we'd get kicked out by mall security.”
“Let’s go,” I tell her. I don’t want to talk about the spectacle I made of myself. I want to escape before he comes back, even though he does have my book, dammit.
“I thought you wanted that book?” Riley peeks around the corner. “Besides, he’s coming back, so it’s too late.”
“Fine.” I straighten my own T-shirt and try to inject steel into my spine. “Thanks.” I hold out my hand for the book. I might as well take it if he’s so willing to let me borrow it.