by Charish Reid
He blinked as he snapped his mouth shut. Soon his shoulders shook in quiet laughter and he released her wrist. The spell was broken. “Jesus Christ,” he said in between louder chuckles.
Shaken from her reverie, Victoria raised her hand to her mouth and averted her eyes. She was certain that embarrassment colored her brown cheeks as she quickly returned to her neglected pile of books. “Never mind.”
His laughter grew louder. “Oh, Dr. Reese...”
She faced the bookshelf and fumed. “I said never mind.”
Then his laughter subsided. “Never mind?”
“I think I misunderstood this interaction.”
“What did you misunderstand?”
Victoria closed her eyes and sighed. “Please.”
“I asked if you were capable of being a student,” he said, keeping his tone light. “I’m pretty sure that was a simple implication.”
She picked up another book and ignored him. Another Vietnam War book.
“Dr. Reese, I didn’t think I had to spell it out to an academic. It kinda takes the fun out of this interaction.”
Her movements stilled. “What?”
“If you want me to speak plainly, all innuendo aside, I think I was asking, in so many words...if you’d like to start a sordid affair with me.”
Victoria dropped the book in her hand.
“You really have to stop abusing my books.”
She spun around to find John directly behind her. His arms were crossed over his chest, the devilish smile on his face issuing another challenge. “What did you say?”
“You heard me.”
Victoria’s mind was awash with a million questions. “What do you mean a sordid affair?”
He shrugged. “It could be fun.”
“But I don’t have fun,” she blurted out.
“Yeah, I picked up on that.”
Victoria reached up and scratched the back of her scalp. She was sweating again. “I don’t have time for a sordid affair.”
“How long did it take you to read For the Duke’s Pleasure?”
“For the Duke’s Convenience,” she corrected. “And I don’t know, a couple of days.”
“So you are capable of taking time to enjoy something. I’m happy to loan out my services for the professor’s convenience.” The laughter in his voice eased the tension in her shoulders. “She’s certainly beautiful enough.”
Victoria averted her gaze and blushed. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to mix business and pleasure,” she lied.
“So being with me would be a pleasure?” he asked. “Because it’s hard to tell. You’re a bit thorny.”
Horny, is more like it. While his frankness was a bit unsettling, the hunger in John’s eyes made her feel things she hadn’t felt since...well, reading For the Duke’s Convenience. “I... I don’t think, I didn’t mean it like that,” she stammered. “We’re supposed to be working on book stuff.” Book stuff? Victoria had lost the expansive vocabulary she was known for. John asked something of her that she hadn’t ever imagined in her bookish life.
As if to press the point, he leaned forward until his mouth was at her ear and whispered. “I assure you, we can do both.” Warm breath tickled her skin and sent a shiver up her neck. “But to be fair, only one would feel like work.”
There was nowhere else for her to move; History was at her back and John was tantalizingly close to her front. Victoria turned her face just slightly to meet his profile. In his sandy brown beard, tiny flecks of silver hid near his temple. For a second, she wondered what it would feel like to reach up and run her finger along that spot. She didn’t know what her next move would be, but she found herself not wanting to escape. “How would uh...the book part work if we’re engaged in...” She searched for the words and came up miserably empty.
John pulled back slightly until they were face to face, just a mere inch or two apart. She was going to pass out if she couldn’t control her own breathing. “A sordid affair?” he asked with a quirk of his lips.
Victoria nodded dumbly.
“I don’t usually engage in sordid affairs,” he whispered. “But I’m painfully curious about a well-organized, extremely professional woman who’s so buttoned-up that she might pass out from suffocation.” So he can hear my labored breathing. “I want to know why she’s in love with a rakish duke. He is a rake, right?”
“Pretty much,” she said with a shaky voice. “He’s reformed by the end of the book though.” He was close enough to kiss, if she wanted, but she wasn’t sure if she should. She wanted to do something, anything to break up the unbearable tension that made her breasts heavy with anticipation and set her skin on fire. “He’d probably try to kiss a woman in a library before asking about a sordid affair though.”
A wide grin spread over John’s face. “Is that a fact?” He nodded thoughtfully before adding. “I probably should have kissed you first, huh?”
She tried to give an easy shrug. “I mean, I’m just telling you what the duke would have done...but yeah.”
John straightened up to full height. “Gotcha, so I put the cart before the horse?”
“Kind of.”
He nodded again. “Like I said, I’m new to sordid affairs. But I don’t think I’m going to kiss you right now.”
Victoria hoped she hid her disappointment well enough because the trap door beneath her heart swung open, spilling its contents downward. “No?”
He shook his head. “No, Dr. Reese. I realize my mouth ran away from me, but I can’t go kissing women in the stacks. You’d have to meet me halfway.”
Her heart pulled itself back up her chest as she parsed his words for meaning. “Halfway?”
“If you’re interested in something remotely impulsive, you’re free to kiss me. If not, we’ll go back to shelving and I’ll keep my books to myself.”
Impulsive? He didn’t know her at all. And those who did would tell him that Victoria Reese did nothing on impulse. Victoria Reese always had a plan. But his choices were intriguing. He quietly gave her control of the situation even when her arousal was anything but controlled. Could she go back to shelving his books without remembering his scent? It’s a G.D. birch forest on a hot summer day.
“Okay,” she said quickly.
“Okay, what?” Wicked humor danced in his eyes.
She shut her eyes tight and closed the distance. She pressed her mouth tightly against his and clutched his rock-hard biceps in an attempt to hold on to something. His beard tickled her lips and cheeks as she blindly pushed forward. For his part, John held on to the shelves behind her, in an attempt to let her continue “meeting him halfway.” Victoria pulled away, breathless from a dry kiss and feeling idiotic. “I don’t know why I did that,” she said, breathing hard.
John raised a brow. “Did what?”
“I just kissed you.”
He gave an impolite scoff. “Hardly. I’m old enough to know that real rakish kisses involve tongue.”
Victoria scoffed right back. How dare he tell me what a rakish kiss involves. “I don’t know you like that.”
“But that’s the point of impulsive kissing,” John said, drawing away from her. “You give way to emotion and cast aside inhibitions. Like the movies.”
He did have a point. A closed-lip kiss wasn’t exactly a proper ravishing, but his options threw her off-kilter. This wasn’t part of tonight’s plan. She had no way to prepare for such a moment. “That’s fair,” she said, and added, “Maybe I should try again.”
“I certainly wouldn’t stop you,” he purred, returning to her intimate space. “Whenever you’re ready.”
This is bizarre...and exciting. It was a fantasy Victoria had cultivated in her mind for years; meeting a man in the stacks and making out with him until an elderly librarian cleared her throat. She just never expected to act it out in her thirt
ies, during a charade like “let me train you in the art of shelving history books.” Placing her hands on his biceps again, she leaned forward. Victoria kept her eyes open this time, staring into John’s smoldering emerald gaze. “I’m ready,” she whispered.
“I am too,” he replied in a soft voice.
She started with a light peck against the seam of his closed lips, flicking a nervous tongue against his bottom lip. When she felt it appropriate, Victoria let her eyes fall shut and angled her face against his beard, easing her tongue past his barrier. A groan escaped his throat as he opened his mouth and allowed her entry. She raised herself on her tiptoes in an effort to reach him, possibly stand over him, and opened her mouth wider. Hanging on to his muscular arms wasn’t enough for her, so her hands traveled over his shoulders and gripped the back of his neck. His tongue met with hers and slid against it slowly. So achingly slow were his movements as his hands left the shelves and fell on her hips.
Hair fell away from his bun as she dug her fingers into his scalp. Chest to chest, they stood interlocked, arms wrapped around each other. Her breasts strained against the hard muscles of his torso, pushing with insistence. He dipped his head and gently pulled her bottom lip between his teeth. Victoria wanted more and she wanted it now. She almost didn’t hear the moans coming from her. She hadn’t moaned like that in a long time. Waves crashed against her beach and she hadn’t battened down the hatch for this incoming storm. A single kiss had wet the juncture at her thighs and sent her swaying from its pleasure. When John’s mouth tore away from hers, his lips traveled down her jaw and found their way to her neck. He sucked and nibbled at the sensitive skin at her pulse. “Johnny,” she breathed.
He let out a choked moan in response and licked her collarbone. “Victoria,” he whispered as he nuzzled her neck. A flat tongue lathed against her hot skin before suctioning it with a satisfying pop. That’s going to leave a mark.
“Mr. Donovan, you’ve got a call on line one,” Martha announced on the loud speaker. “Mr. Donovan, call on line one.”
Victoria’s eyes sprang open and she pushed him away. “Oh my god,” she said. Her questions and concerns quickly came back, shoving away pleasure and impulsivity.
John stepped back, chest heaving and his shoulder length hair disheveled, his lips stained red with her lipstick. “Sorry,” he breathed.
“Nothing to be sorry for,” she said, reaching upward to push her braids behind her shoulder. “I initiated that.”
“Right,” he said, retying his hair into a more secure bun behind his head.
Victoria wanted to reach out and yank it loose. “You have a phone call.”
“Right,” he repeated.
“You have lipstick on your mouth.”
“Okay.”
Victoria grabbed her pile of books. “And I think I should go.”
John stepped in front of her quick escape. “Victoria, wait.”
She held the books at her chest like a protective shield. “What?”
“If you have to leave now, please come back tomorrow night.”
She shook her head. “I’m busy all week. I’ve got a million meetings.”
“Thursday then?”
His face was flushed and his expression was hopeful. Victoria found herself wanting to keep him hopeful. She wanted to be hopeful even if it meant being foolish and impulsive. Their kiss was only a taste of what could be even sweeter if she allowed herself to try. She relented. “Same time?”
John released a breath. “Yes.”
She reached up to his face and swiped her thumb over his lips. “Your mouth is a bit stained,” she whispered.
He caught her wrist and gently bit down on the tip of her thumb. “With you,” he said, speaking around it, his tongue grazed her. The jolt of electricity made a path from her hand to her breasts, and then down to her womb. Victoria stood there with a finger in his mouth until she was able to wake up from her stupor. He licked delicately, at first, only to devour her thumb, swirling his tongue around it. What was probably seconds felt like an eternity.
Wake up. Wake up. Wake up!
When her drowsy brain finally caught up to her racing heart, her eyes flew open and she pulled her hand away from his lips. “Goodnight, John, I mean Mr. Donovan.” She slowly pulled away and hurried from the History section, taking care not to look over her shoulder.
“Goodnight, Dr. Reese.”
Chapter Nine
After Victoria had hurried from the library, John had waited a beat before making his own exit. The phone call that had thankfully interrupted their serious make out session, was from his babysitter. Becca had started her first period and he didn’t know how to manage without John’s help. Luckily, it had been near the end of his shift. His drive home involved reciting a series of helpful comments for his niece. You see, Becca, when a girl gets to a certain age, her eggs need to go somewhere...
“Where is she?” he asked as soon as he opened his front door.
Chris Flynn, John’s best friend and workout buddy, stood in the foyer with his hands in his blonde curls. In the time he’d known Chris since high school, John had never seen his friend so distraught, and Chris had already been intimately acquainted with the Farmingdale Police Department for petty theft charges when they’d met. John’s father had barely tolerated Chris and his “trailer-trash” family, but John’s patient mother had accepted and straightened out the stray that John kept bringing home. Becca hadn’t cut off an appendage, she was just on her period. But since he and Chris were damn near brothers, his concern for Becca was akin to a nervous father. “She won’t come out of her bedroom. Dude, I’ve been trying to talk to her through the door, but she’s not hearing it.”
John dropped his bag at the door and walked to the living room searching for his laptop. “Did you try Skyping Jessi?”
“No, it’s like, 3 a.m. in Stockholm, right?”
Goddammit. He forgot about the time difference. “Okay. I need a plan.”
“Do you have any uh...you know, products?” Chris asked.
John shot his friend a glare. “Do I look like I keep maxi pads in my house?”
Chris flung his hands up. “Shit, man, I’m just asking.”
They both looked down the hallway at the guest bedroom door. “I’ve got to talk to her.”
“Good luck with that.”
John pulled his friend by the front of his shirt and walked him down the hallway. “You’re not leaving me yet,” he whispered.
“I’m just the babysitter,” Chris hissed, shaking himself loose. “All period problems are reserved for the parent or guardian.”
“Help me talk her off the ledge, man.”
They stood at Becca’s door staring at one another. Chris widened his blue eyes and nodded to the door. “Go ahead then.”
John knocked softly. “Hey, Becca?”
They got no response aside from the increased volume of music in her room.
“What is she listening to?” John asked.
Chris rolled his eyes. “Alanis Morissette. The entire time we’ve been here, I’ve heard ‘You Oughta Know’ twenty times.” His voice dropped to a low growl. “I feel like I’m in a fucking time machine.”
John tried not to laugh as he knocked again. “Becca, honey. Please talk to me.”
“Leave me alone!”
“I can’t do that.”
“I don’t want to talk!”
Chris nudged him. “You might want to try a firmer hand,” he whispered.
Firm was not a tactic he used on children. He’d dealt with his share of rowdy kids at work and knew that a softer approach was more effective. John shook his head. “She’s not going to respond to that. I know I didn’t.”
His friend shrugged. “If you say so.”
John reached into his back pocket and pulled his wallet out. “Do me
a favor and go to the store. Get anything you can think of to stop this meltdown: pain reliever—the kind that puts you right to sleep—pads and tampons, one of those heating pads, and lots of chocolate.”
“How about some booze?”
He handed Chris a wad of bills. “A bottle of Makers would be great.”
“Check.”
“You’re saving my life, you know that?”
Chris grinned. “Better you than me, Johnny.”
As Chris left for his mission, John turned to the door. “Becca, I can’t help you if we don’t talk about it.”
“You can’t help,” she shouted.
“I think I can,” he said.
“You don’t understand.”
“Honey, you’re not the first girl to start her period,” John said. “Open the door and we can talk about it.”
“I’m not going to talk to my uncle about this!”
John cracked his neck to the side. This is not what he wanted to do tonight. Not too long ago, he’d had his hands on the delicious curves of one Professor Reese. He could almost feel her lips on his, smell her perfume... “Becca turn off the music and come to the door.”
“You’re not coming in here.”
“Fine, I’m not coming in, but I need you to turn off Alanis and come to the door.”
There was a pause. The music stopped. “What?” Her voice was muffled against the door.
John breathed as he slid down to the floor. “Take a seat and we’ll talk through the door.” He learned the move from his mother. They’d spent a few teary conversations talking through a door like a confessional. He heard Becca join him from the other side.
“Fine.”
“Thank you,” he said, leaning his head against the wooden surface. “Now can I ask you a few questions?”
Becca heaved a tired sigh. “Fine.”
“First, when did it happen?”
He heard a sniffle. “During sixth period math,” she muttered. “I stood when the bell rang and Kelly told me that I had it on the back of my jeans. She gave me her shirt to tie around my waist.”
John nodded. “That was really nice of Kelly.”