Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 39249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 39249 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 196(@200wpm)___ 157(@250wpm)___ 131(@300wpm)
"You're stressed out," he murmurs, rubbing my back.
"Maybe a little bit." I peek up at him. "Talking to her always stresses me out."
"Is that all it is?" His gaze scans over my face like he's trying to root out all my secrets. "You sure there isn't more to it?"
"I…" I huff out a breath. "Maybe there have been like ten different people here today, asking me about you."
His lips compress into a hard line. "Reporters?"
"Curious patrons." I worry my bottom lip between my teeth, not sure I like his expression. "I didn't tell them anything, if that's what you're worried about."
His gaze snaps to mine again, crackling with heat. "You think I care if the whole world knows you're mine?"
"I…"
"I'm not ashamed of you, Hattie," he growls, tipping my head back. "And I damn sure won't allow you to be ashamed of yourself, either. You're perfect. But—"
My stomach clenches.
"For your sake, perhaps we should lay off the photos for a while."
I'm not sure why that stings when I usually hate being photographed or in the news, but it stings anyway. Maybe because, for once, I don't hate it entirely. Even knowing that half the world is probably talking crap about how I don't fit with him or deserve him or whatever…I like knowing that I'm the one on his arm in the photos from dinner.
It made him feel like mine.
You're playing with fire, a little voice whispers.
It isn't wrong. Dating him, sleeping with him, getting close to him, is absolutely playing with fire. It has the potential to burn me up and burn me out. But I want to keep lighting the fuse anyway.
"Oh, okay. Sure," I mumble. "We can do that."
For some reason, that answer doesn't satisfy him. If anything, it makes him look even grumpier than usual. His eyes narrow on me, a growl rumbling in his chest. "Where do you go when you want five minutes alone?"
"What?" I frown up at him.
"Where in this library do you go to hide out when you don't want anyone to find you?" he asks.
"Oh, um…the map stack. No one ever goes there."
"Show me."
I hesitate for a split second before leading him across the library. We weave between stacks until we arrive at the map and reference section. It's in the back corner for a reason. Maps have never been a popular item in a library, but they're even less so since the arrival of GPS. And reference books are pretty much obsolete since the invention of the internet. But we still keep them around because sometimes, it's far easier to open a book to find what you need than it is to scour the internet.
Sidney backs me up against a shelf that contains the world atlas, his hands planted on the shelf on either side of my head, bracketing it. His body brushes mine as he dips his head, forcing me to meet his gaze.
"I'm not ashamed of you, butterfly," he growls. "So get that thought out of your head right now."
"I didn't think that," I whisper.
"Don't lie to me."
"I'm not lying," I huff, my eyes narrowing on him. "Has anyone ever told you that you're awful bossy sometimes?"
"I don't care if I'm being bossy." His lips skim the side of my face. "I'd rather have you pissed because you think I'm an asshole than have you sad, thinking I'm embarrassed to be seen with you."
"I mean…you did just demand I bring you to my hiding spot," I say. It's supposed to be a joke, but he does not take it that way.
His teeth sink into the shell of my ear, delivering a sharp bite. "I wanted privacy because I can't keep my hands off you. Didn't think you'd appreciate everyone in this library seeing what I want to do to you. But I'm more than happy to spread you out on one of those big ass tables out there and eat you in front of God and everybody, Hattie baby. Just say the word."
"Sidney," I whimper. "You c-can't do that."
"I can." He nips my skin again. "You think I give a fuck what people think? I told you already, I don't live my life worried about what's in their heads. I care about what's in yours. And it's pissing me off that you think I don't want to be seen with you."
"I d-don't think that."
"I saw your face, Hattie. That's exactly what you thought."
"Is not." God, it's hard to think when his mouth is on me. He's wreaking havoc on my system right now, and all I want to do is climb his body and let him ruin me again. "You saw me realizing that, for the first time, I didn't hate being photographed."
He pulls back slightly, meeting my gaze again. "Why?"
"I…" I briefly consider making something up—telling him that being all over the internet right now doesn't bother me because I had fun—but I don't want to lie to him. "Because I was with you," I whisper instead. It feels like the most significant thing I've ever said.