He's No Angel (Heaven Can Wait Book 1) by Jacquie D'Alessandro

a throaty moan escaping her kiss-swollen lips as she came. His muscles tensed as every drop of blood in his body seemed to pool in his groin.
    “Everything okay, Liam?”
    No. I’m as hard as cement and I’m supposed to be deciding on my meal but the only thing I’m hungry for is you. “Everything’s great. Why do you ask?”
    “You, um, groaned.”
    Just then the waiter returned with their wine, saving Liam from replying.  As the waiter poured them each a glass, Liam shifted in his seat in an effort to relieve the strangulation occurring in his trousers. Damn, this was embarrassing.  Like being fourteen and getting an unwanted boner because a hot girl walked by.
    After pouring, the waiter asked Emma for her order. Liam watched her glossy lips form the words, all the while imaging covering that plump mouth with his own. Touching his tongue to hers--
    “And for you, sir?”
    The waiter’s voice snapped Liam from his sensual musings. “What?”
    “Your order, sir.”
    “Order?”
    “Yes. What would you like for dinner?”
    “Oh. Right.” He closed his menu and handed it to the waiter. “I’ll, uh, have the same as her,” he said, nodding toward Emma.
    After the waiter departed Emma regarded him with an amused expression. “Do you know what I ordered for dinner?”
    “Not a clue.”
    “What if you don’t like my choice? Or are allergic or something?”
    “I’m not allergic to anything and as far as food goes, I like everything. Well, everything except Lima beans, so if you ordered them, I’m screwed. But as far as I’m concerned, this meal is less about what I’m eating and all about who I’m eating with.” He lifted his wine glass. “Here’s to… ” His voice trailed off as he tried to think of something other than “us” as that might scare her off, and that’s the last thing he wanted.
    “An enjoyable evening?” she suggested.
    “And enjoyable evening,” he agreed then touched the rim of his glass to hers. After tasting the merlot, he decided that given his difficulty forming coherent sentences his best strategy was to get her talking. “How did you come to be London’s librarian? You don’t sound like you’re originally from the south.”
    “I’m not. I was raised in Massachusetts.”
    “That’s a long way from London.”
    “Yes.” She took a sip of wine. “Which is exactly the point. The thousand miles between here and my family is a good buffer zone.”
    “Your parents and brother and sister?” he asked, recalling the photo on her book shelf.
    “That’s them.” She contemplated him over the rim of her glass. “Are you sure you want to know all this? I don’t want to bore you. We could talk about sports. Or cars. I’m no expert but I have a working knowledge of both topics.”
    “Good to know, but I’d rather talk about you,” he said, stating the simple truth. “I want to know everything about you, Emma. And you couldn’t possibly bore me.”
    She huffed out a quick laugh. “That remains to be seen. But in the interests of not putting you to sleep, I’ll give you the condensed version. I’m the proverbial black sheep of my family.”
    Liam’s brows shot up. “You’re kidding. I would have pegged you as the Golden Child.”
    “’Fraid not. With the exception of my dad, the family breathed a collective sigh of relief when I moved away. As did I. My parents are both brilliant. My dad is an astrophysicist, and my mother is one of the nation’s leading experts on property law. They’re both tenured professors at Harvard.”
    Holy crap. Based on that photo, he’d thought her parents looked scholarly. And Harvard no less.  “Is that where you went to school?”
    “No. To the horror of my Harvard alum mother, I broke with tradition and went to Yale instead.”
    Liam nodded. “Yeah, I can see why she’d be horrified. Sheesh. Yale. What a crappy school.”
    Emma laughed. “It ignited a war-- after all, both my brother and sister were Harvard grads and