"Ree, you sweet, awful thing you... do you have any idea what it is like to read sex scenes like that without having someone to take care of you afterward? I buzzed through a set of freaking batteries over that book, and I still feel like I can't function. We both know that after a man like Denver, you don't want Mr. Good Vibrations; you want the weight and touch of a man."
"You've never had trouble finding someone to get into your bed," Reese said, voice hushed.
"Ugh, don't get me started," Peyton said dramatically.
"What?"
"There's this gu... never mind," she said, cutting herself off. And Reese was too nice to call her on it. "No relationship books for me. Throw all the medieval torture my way, please. Oh, lookie. Your hot beard just walked in."
"He has a name. And, you know, a body," Reese said, sounding amused.
"Yeah, but who cares about his name and his body with a beard like that?"
"Peyton, honey, how have you been?" Cy asked, catching sight of me in his peripheral, then turning his head, brows drawn together. "Why are you pulling this shift?" he asked, and I knew my hiding spot was just found out. No more eavesdropping for me.
I stood, closing the book with my finger in it to keep my place, and moved out from the curve in the wall.
"Were you there the whole time?" Peyton snapped, voice accusing. Like I had been hiding from her. And, in a way, I had.
"Yep."
"Why didn't you tell me?" Peyton asked, looking over at Reese who looked lost.
"Someone is always here lately. You know that."
"Yeah, Cy. Or one of those yummy military guys. Not him."
"Uh-oh," Cy said, looking between both of us with a wicked smirk. "Are you two having a lover's spat?"
"We're not lovers," Peyton insisted, just a bit too quickly. Seeming to sense that herself, she shot Cy a grin. "Lovers implies lovemaking. And I think we both would agree that I am not a lovemaking kind of girl. I'm a fucking kind of girl."
"Peyton!" Reese shushed her with big eyes, jerking her head over toward where two women were perusing the new additions section.
"What? Oh, them?" she asked, turning to look at them. "Sharen, Alicia," she greeted the women who turned with smiles. "How did those rabbits work out for you? Better than the bullets?"
Anyone who knew a goddamn thing about such matters knew they weren't discussing bunnies or guns.
Nope.
They were talking about vibrators.
"Peyton," Reese said again, voice smaller. "You're going to get yourself fired one of these days."
"Replaced by whom? No one else would work my shift for the peanuts they throw at me. So they pretend to look the other way and talk about me behind my back. It all shakes out. So you're all heading out?" she asked, looking pointedly at me before settling on Cyrus.
"Yeah, gotta get my woman home. I believe she has a hot date with a... Marquis."
"Viscount," Reese corrected, then shot me a shy look.
"Have fun," she told Peyton, then looked at Cyrus. "I know you will once she gets to the good parts," she added as Cy slung his arm around Reese's shoulders. "And you're still here because..." she said after the couple moved out the automatic doors.
"Sh," I said, leaning back against the wall. "I'm reading," I said, pulling the book back open again.
Why?
I had no fucking idea.
I should have been taking my ass back to the compound and getting some sleep since Roan was going to tap me to relieve him for the watch shift around four in the morning.
But I didn't want to go home and sleep.
For reasons I was choosing not to analyze.
Though there was no denying - not even to myself - that it had every-fucking-thing to do with the mermaid behind the counter pretending like she wasn't noticing me, but her eyes drifted over every few minutes as she shuffled papers and checked out books and told a group of kids to take it into the teen room, that she was the only one around here allowed to drop f-bombs and talk about casual sex.
It wasn't until about an hour later that she finally snapped.
"Leave."
SEVEN
Peyton
I told myself I wasn't going to talk to him.
I promised myself, in fact.
To say he was the least likely person I could have anticipated seeing there when I walked in for my shift would be an understatement.
I had spent the last few days, in fact, trying not to think about him at all. This was not an easy task. Because Jamie, though a good, reliable friend, also never kept anything from Savea. So once Jamie knew that Sugar had clearly gotten to me, so did Savvy. And while Jamie was content just to let the chips fall where they may, be there for me if I wanted to talk, she never felt the need to try to pry things out of me, Savvs, well, she was a pryer.
After her shift on Monday, she had come into the library, propped herself on my desk, and demanded information.
The only reason I didn't kick her out was that she came bearing coffee. And I had not been sleeping well. Dreams had been shocking me awake. Then I was generally too pissed at myself for having sexy dreams about him that I couldn't calm myself back down enough for sleep.
He was messing with my sleep.
Which meant I was getting bags under my eyes that no amount of makeup could cover.
He was fucking with my look.
And that, well, was a damn castration-worthy offense.
So it was good I didn't come across him.
Yet here he was.
Cock intact.
At my work.
Just breathing up all my air.
Making it impossible to focus.
Why?
That was a good question.
Sure, it made sense that he maybe pulled the short straw and got saddled with babysitting at the library when all of them would likely prefer spending time at the salon, or wherever else all the women worked. At least at Kennedy's they could bullshit and hit on the women who came in.
Unless their interest ran toward the casket-robbing, they were shit out of luck here.
Lo's people always seemed to accept the duty with their usual steadfast silent diligence, nothing ever seeming to shake those people. Cyrus, being who he was, always managed to charm the old folks, get on with me, enjoy his shift. Once, I caught him reading something. He had, oddly, freaked and told me not to tell Reese, that it was a surprise. And outside of him, I had really only seen Cash around who very much got on here as well as Cy did.
So it was legit that he had been forced to pull the library shift today. But he should have left when Reese did. That was the job. Protecting Reese. From what or who, I had no idea. But the job was over as soon as Cy took her home.
Yet here he was.
Reading.
Not saying anything.
Just being there.
I don't know what finally did it, why I couldn't keep my mouth shut anymore.
I wasn't even aware I was going to say anything until I heard my voice echo across the quiet space.
"Leave."
To his credit - likely thanks to a lifetime being an outlaw - he didn't start at the sudden sound. In fact, it was like the impact of the word didn't get to him until a full moment later when he flagged his page with a slip of paper that was at the edge of the desk. His body uncurled slowly before he turned completely to me, head tipped to one side with that cocky, confident swagger he wore so well.
"I checked the hours on the way in. I am free to stay here until nine p.m."
"Right. Because you have suddenly become such a bookworm."
Ugh.
It was one thing to be sarcastic and crazy and maybe a bit abrasive at times. It was another to be snippy and bitchy.
No one liked snippy and bitchy.
I didn't like snippy and bitchy.
Why he was bringing it out of me, that was the mystery.
Except, to be honest, it really wasn't. There was no mystery. I was snippy and bitchy becau
se I wanted more of this man. And I never wanted more of a man. That wasn't how I operated. They were interchangeable, good for, well, a good time. That was all. For everything else, I had my sister, the Mallicks, the Rivers, Jamie, Savvy, Ronnie, and a dozen or so other friends. They gave me everything I needed. The love, the fun, the support, the heartfelt conversations, the willingness to be on my arm to go to movies, events, anything.
All that was leftover for men was sex.
Just how I liked it.
Why, then, was this man, this man I hardly knew from Adam, this man who was just hot and sexy, and a really good lay... suddenly making me want weird things?
Like to know what he thought about the book in his hand, a favorite of mine.
Like to figure out what music he liked.
Like wondering if he would watch bloody TV shows with me and eat Chinese food.
Ugh.
What was wrong with me?
"What are you reading?" I asked, seeming unable to keep the question to myself even though I already know, clearly just wanting to engage him.
He moved a few steps closer, turning the book cover-side out, revealing one I had put on the staff recommends shelf just a few days ago. It had a tame enough cover and title to fool the daytime librarians, so they didn't pull it immediately like they did when I put racier stuff there.
I squashed down a strange jumpy feeling in my chest at the idea of him picking that one. Of all the choices there.
"And what do you think of it?"
"You recommended this one, right?" he asked, lips tipped up slightly at one side.
"Yeah."
His gaze went to the book, turning it over in his hands, considering it for a second before his head lifted again.
"Baby, you're so fucked up."
It was a compliment wrapped in an insult.
"I know, right?" I asked, unable to hold back the smile that stretched wide enough to make my cheeks hurt. "And you're not even to the twisted part yet," I told him, noting his bookmarked spot. I had no idea how long he had been reading, but he was mostly done. He read fast. I found that almost intolerably sexy. Most men I knew didn't read anything at all, let alone read it fast.
"It gets crazier than the knife threesome?"
"Way crazier," I said, leaning over the counter, liking it way too much when his gaze dipped to the low V of my bodice.
"And you don't have trouble sleepin' at night?" he asked, shaking his head at me.
Only because of you, you fuckface. "Nope."
"Fucked up," he reiterated, turning suddenly.
"Where are you going?"
"Taking a walk," he said casually, but there was something underneath his words, something that said he was expecting me to follow him.
"Maybe that walk should end up in the American History section," I suggested, watching as he turned his head over the shoulder, brows low. At seeing my smirk, he shot me one back.
"Well, it is important to know where we came from," he agreed, heading off to find the section.
You know... the only section in the whole library without a camera that looks over it. The cameras had been updated just a few months ago, the cops worried that Third Street was dealing here because it was easy not to be seen. And since they knew it was really only women who worked here, instead of setting up a sting - or whatever they called it - they had tipped us off, so we could be safer.
I think it had less to do with kindness and more to do with fear of the repercussions if something ever went down, and Reese and I got caught in the crossfire. Seeing as I had the Mallicks and the Rivers, and Reese had The Henchmen, Paine, Enzo, and even, by extension thanks to her sister, the guys who worked at Sawyer Investigations. All the police bribes would dry up if something happened to us on their watch.
I checked out the books for the last older lady, likely wanting to get home before it got too dark both for eyesight and safety reasons. The checkouts were all done by computers, encouraging you step by step how to do so yourself, but I had found over the years that it was less - with the older people - that they didn't know how to do it themselves, and more that they were starved for conversation and connection, that talking to me was maybe the most interaction they had had all day. Or maybe even all week. And since this lady was not informing me - as though I didn't already know - that tattoos were permanent, or telling me that they would make me look ugly in a wedding dress - because my only goal in life must be marriage - I was happy to chat with her for a few minutes.
Once that was handled, I took a cart with me, pretending like I was a very dedicated re-stocker when I would usually just leave them for the volunteers to handle in the morning since I technically wasn't supposed to walk away from the desk. You know, because of the cash box in the back. Full of dimes for late fees. We were really in danger of losing those fifteen dollars!
I shelved a few books in the romance and cooking sections before strolling through the travel guides, and finally landing myself in the American History section, finding Sugar leaning against a wall, foot cocked back on it, holding a copy of an old, outdated textbook about the settlers and the Native Americans, making it all about sharing and Thanksgiving and not about the systematic rape and murder that really happened.
"This is some bullshit," he informed me, flashing the cover at me that featured a picture of Natives handing a basket of corn to the settlers.
"I know, right? Reese purges the sections every once in a while, getting rid of beat-up or outdated copies. I don't know how that one slipped through."
"I'm pretty sure this was taught in my high school," he told me, shaking his head as he dropped it back into its place on the shelf. "So," he said, turning his wicked smile in my direction, eyes dancing. "American History because it is the only section of this place not covered by cameras?" he guessed.
"How..."
"Baby," he cut me off with a head shake. "Been in crime my entire life. I'd have been locked up ten times over if I couldn't figure out how security cameras worked. So, what? Do you have a book thief or some shit?"
"The cops think that Third Street has been using the library for deals," I supplied.
"Right," he said, chuckling. "And if I could figure out that this section is a dead zone in two minutes, I figure they have figured out it is a dead zone by now too. Tell your boss to turn the one by that teen room about ten degrees, and it will still catch the door to that room... and this section."
"Will do," I agreed because, though I was pretty comfortable about crime at this point, I didn't like the idea of gang members dealing heroin so close to a bunch of idiot - I would say impressionable, but let's face it, teens are idiots - kids. "But tomorrow."
"Why tomorrow?" he asked, the way his eyes were slightly hooded already telling me he knew exactly why.
"Well, you see," I said, moving a few feet to the left, knowing he was watching my ass as I moved, and liking that a bit too much, "this is the American History section, but it is also the anatomy section," I told him, pressing my hand to the endcap of the row of anatomy books that only young boys or med students ever seemed to check out.
"Anatomy, huh?"
"Yeah, and see," I said, reaching my hand down toward the hem of my skirt, "I seem to need to brush up on that."
"On anatomy," he repeated, not moving, just leaning against the wall, watching every small move I made.
When my hand snagged the hem of my skirt and started dragging it up, his eyes went down, watching the motion, his breathing getting a little more shallow as more and more of my thighs got exposed. "I mean, this muscle right here," I said, reaching down with my other hand to stroke up my thigh, "I seem to forget what this is called."
That did it.
He pushed off the wall - slowly, languidly, like he always did - and put down his copy of my book, stalking over toward me, his gray eyes on me, deep, penetrating, as I could find they always were when looking at me. He stopped when there was just a breath between us, head ducked down, his hand slowly ri
sing to touch the skin right above my knee.
"This one?" he clarified, voice already getting rough.
"Mhmm."
"This is your quadricep," he told me, voice low and rumbling, moving through my belly with a delicious rolling sensation. "And this," he went on, finger sliding up... and in slightly. "Is your adductor," he informed me as his thigh met the uber soft and sensitive skin of my inner thigh, no doubt already feeling the heat just an inch or so above.
"That is," I started, taking a deep breath when his finger stroked up, teasing the space where my thigh met my pelvis, "very informative," I finished, swallowing hard.
"Do you need more... education?" he asked, eyes pinning mine.
"Definitely," I sighed out, hand curling into the shelf at my side to hold on, knowing my legs were going to get weak sooner rather than later. "I find that learning is best when it is... hands-on."
There was a noise that moved through him then, some primal, grunting approval sound that made shocks spark through my core, causing my walls to tighten almost painfully in need.
"Well, in that case, we should continue," he said, smirk just barely there, a ghost of an actual smile toying with his lips. "This," he said, fingers pressing right into the swatch of material between my legs, "is your pussy," he told me, smile spreading a bit when my other hand slammed down on his shoulder and curled into the muscles there, needing the stability.
"Really?" I asked, my voice airy. "And do you know more about this... pussy of mine?"
"Know fuckin' everything about it," he told me as his fingers found the side of my panties and slipped in. "Like how wet it gets... and all I got to do is talk to you. And how when I do this," he told me, swiping his finger across my swollen clit, "yeah, you make that sound," he went on when a choked whimper escaped me. "And when I do this," he said, fingers slipping down, then sliding inside me, curling instantly, then raking over my top wall, "you can't breathe," he told me, even as my breath got strangled in my lungs.
"Sugar," I whimpered, leaning in, putting my head into the center of his chest as he kept working my G-spot, driving me up hard and fast.
"That's a good sound," he rumbled, fingers starting to thrust in and out, keeping me primed, but taking away the promise - or threat - of an orgasm, and I had a feeling I wouldn't get one until he was inside of me again.
Sugar (The Henchmen MC Book 12) Page 9