The SEAL's Rebel Librarian by Anne Calhoun Page B

the circulation desk.”
    The lazy smile he gave her didn’t quite mitigate the sharp look in his eyes. “C’mere,” he said, holding out his arm.
    She winced as his forearm tightened around her hips, just above the tender spot where her butt hit the tarmac, but didn’t let that stop her from straddling his lap. “I really, really shouldn’t do this,” she murmured against his mouth.
    â€œI shaved hoping to tempt you into doing exactly this,” he replied.
    He wasn’t kissing her. His hands gently kneaded the tops of her buttocks, then moved lower, finding the deepest aches and pressing into them. An unexpected heat flared low in her sex, kindled by the warm look in his eyes, his clean-shaven jaw, his full lips she’d never seen quite so exposed before.
    And, if she were truly honest about what she felt, the thrill of the hidden and the danger of being caught.
    â€œThis isn’t like me,” she said, making herself a liar by bracing her elbows against his chest and stroking his hair, his ears.
    â€œWhat isn’t like you?”
    â€œThinking with my body, not my mind.”
    He captured her hand, now resting against his neck, her thumb on his pulse, and kissed her palm. “How do you feel? Right now. What’s your body telling you at this very moment?”
    She tipped her forehead to rest against his, closed her eyes, and sank deep inside her skin. Her body was talking to her, the message subtle but insistent in a way it hadn’t been before she bought the Duc. The pain flaring with each gentle curl of his fingers against her bottom only added to the clamor. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “The signals are so mixed. I should be terrified. I should be in pain. All I am is turned on.”
    She breathed the last word into his open mouth, his lips plush and resilient against hers, while her fingers stroked the ruthlessly shaved skin of his jaw. Her index fingers brushed the corners of his mouth as she kissed him, his tongue flickering out to taste hers, then lick the tips and suck them into his mouth.
    A beat of pleasure pulsed through her, lingering in her nipples, her sex. His gaze met hers unashamedly as he bit down ever so gently on the pads of her fingers. “What’s your body telling you, Erin?”
    She paused for a split second to consider the messages dancing along her nerves: arousal, desire, excitement, and a connection she could no longer deny. She was falling for Jack, and falling hard. Her heart all but stopped when this fact burst into awareness in her brain, her stomach doing a slow loop. She’d already broken one promise to a man, a big promise. A “love, honor, and cherish until death do us part” promise. But the promise she’d made to herself was just as important, the promise to live her life as fully as she could, throttle open all the way, engine screaming at the redline, the wind pushing her back as the machine bore her forward.
    She would do this, everything her body asked of her, and she’d let him go. She’d keep both promises, and damn the cost. It was easy enough to tell herself that. The only thing left on her list was skydiving, and Jack had already booked them flight time to make the jump.
    He was still looking up at her, eyes expectant, hands a warm weight against her bottom. In response she hitched herself forward just a little, wrapped her right arm around his neck, slid the fingers of her left hand into his hair, and kissed him. “I want this,” she breathed between kisses. She was slick and hot and quivering with eagerness, and all she could think about was how good it would feel when he stretched her open and slid inside. “I want this,” she said again.
    â€œMe, too,” he murmured.
    He hoisted her to her feet and backed her into the wall beside the door, then swung one of the chairs around and wedged the back under the handle so the door wouldn’t