She really needed to focus so she could start her paper soon, but she didn't want to read "Ode on a Grecian Urn" again. It just didn't speak to her, which is why she'd been rereading it for almost an hour trying to figure out a paper topic.
She chewed on the end of her pen, glancing at the section on warmth, panting, and passion. At least she felt connected to those concepts, even if what she felt was longing. She sighed and looked across the library, distracted by students leaving the building. It was just after midnight, but the library didn't close for another two hours. She scanned the nearby tables, thinking about passion, when she noticed him staring at her.
How long had he been looking at her? He sat at a table to her right, and his eyes watched her mouth. She didn't think she knew him, so who was he? His eyes were intense and full of heat. She realized she was staring at him, so she forced her eyes back to her book. The words looked familiar but wouldn't stick in her brain. She couldn't forget how his eyes stalked her. Drank her in. Invaded her.
A blush crept across her neck, and she felt like a fool. That look was probably for someone else. That look couldn't be for her. That passion was probably for some tiny, perfect blonde who warmed his bed at night.
She didn't inspire lust like that. She'd never learned the games and didn't want to. It wasn't in her to be coy or subtle, and she'd never been dainty or tiny. Her body was strong but really curvy - never tiny. She wasn't the type of woman who brought men to their knees...God to have him on his knees before her, his brown hair brushing her stomach...
Okay, it had just been way too long since she had a man. That's why the thought of this total stranger on his knees was making her wet. That had to be it. It was a perfectly logical explanation for her runaway thoughts.
She was dying to see if he was still looking at her because she sensed he was. It was childish and definitely insane, but she couldn't resist. She looked his way, and he was still staring. He wasn't even pretending to study but watched her as if he didn't have anywhere else to be. He sprawled back in the chair, legs stretched forward, and looked wicked and delicious.
His eyes slowly slid down her body and back up, taking in her bare legs, short black skirt, and button-up white shirt. She was overdressed for the library but came straight from waitressing to start her paper. He winked at her as his lips curled in a half-smile. She closed her eyes immediately and felt her face turn red. Her desire was obvious, which was embarrassing. He was unraveling her with just his eyes, and did she ever want to be unraveled.
She opened her eyes to look at him again, but he was gone. She sighed and felt much too disappointed. Before she had time to berate herself for caring so much, she felt someone right behind her. She would've squealed if she could catch her breath. She knew it was him with an absolute certainty that made her shiver.
He whispered, "If you're as wet as I am hard, we'll be fucking amazing." His hot breath tickled her ear and gave her goosebumps. "Amazing," he repeated. He dropped a scrap of paper on her book. She turned around, but he was already walking away.
Her heart was racing as she picked up the paper he left. Scrawled across the middle in bold black pen were the words "3 minutes - 9th floor - government documents."
Disregarding the heat spreading across her body, she rolled her eyes. The nerve of him, thinking she was desperate enough to be at his beck and call! Like he could just tell her when and where, and she'd follow. He was delusional, right?
If she went up there, one of two things would happen. One, he'd be there but know how much she wanted him. How much she needed him. Or two, he wouldn't be there, and she'd be the biggest fool for believing him. He'd be somewhere laughing at her, and she deserved way better than that.
No, she'd just forget him. She certainly wasn't going to run up there just because he offered. She crumpled the note and shoved it in her bag with her book. She started to leave for home but paused with a hand on the exit door. She was letting him off way too easy. Who the hell did he think he was? She turned around and headed for the elevator, every step making her angrier.
She pushed the button to call the elevator much harder than necessary. Her foot was tapping as she waited. She pushed the button again, knowing it wouldn't help but feeling better. The doors opened, and she stared at the inside of the elevator. Why on earth would she go to him when she didn't know a thing about him? If she went up there, she'd be doing exactly what he wanted.
The doors slid closed without her entering. She wasn't sure she trusted herself to go upstairs but not touch him. Not kiss him. Not do exactly what she knew he wanted. But he chose her. He wanted her. Could she really pass that up? Did she even want to try? Fuck it. She pushed the elevator button again, and the doors opened immediately.
The doors opened on the ninth floor, and she headed toward the government documents corner. She saw him at the end of a row, watching her approach. She marched toward him and dropped her bag on the floor. "I don't know who the hell you think you are," she said, "but I'm not yours for the taking."
She stopped advancing when she was two steps from him. He kept staring at her, not moving. "You understand?" she asked. "You don't own me!"
He closed the distance between them, grabbed her wrist, and said, "But I will."
She inhaled sharply. She wasn't sure if it was his claim to own her or his fingers on her wrist, but she couldn't seem to move. She started pulling her wrist out of his grip, but he wouldn't let her. Instead, he yanked her toward him until she collided with his chest.
"But..." She wasn't sure what she was going to say and suddenly couldn't remember why she didn't want him touching her. He growled and walked her backward until she felt metal shelves against her back. He leaned toward her, and his heat was intoxicating. She looked to see if anyone was around.
"I don't give a damn who's watching," he said as his lips moved toward hers. She couldn't think of a thing to say. She couldn't think of anything but kissing him. She held her breath and waited for that first kiss.
He stopped an inch away and murmured, "Ask me."
Her body stiffened. "What?"
"Ask me to kiss you."
His lips curled in that damn half-smile, and her anger came flooding back. He wanted her to beg? She pulled at her wrist again and said, "Go to hell."
He yanked both wrists above her head in one of his hands and pushed his whole body against hers. Her eyes widened as she realized he was rock hard. "Honey, I'm already there. I watched you read for an hour. Watched you suck on that pen, wishing it was my cock." He shoved her legs apart with his thigh so he could fit his hips better against hers. Her short skirt bunched up baring more of her legs.
"Whatever," she muttered as she halfheartedly tried to escape. However, her movements just rubbed her body against his, which made her really wet.
"I watched you wrap your hair around your finger. I wanted to grab it and pull. Hard." She gasped and looked into his eyes. She was drowning, and she knew it. And she bet he knew it too.
He continued, "You crossed your legs, and I wanted them wrapped around me." It took every ounce of control she had to avoid doing just that.
His voice sunk low. "Ask me to kiss you." She'd never wanted anything so bad in her life. Of course she was going to ask, but he grew impatient. "Damnit, ask!"
