need to press her breasts harder against him. His pulse thrummed where she held him. The sound of crumpling paper filled the air, and vaguely she realized it was Win’s hand clutching at pages. His breath brushed over her lips, and everything within her went tight. A helpless sound escaped her as her lips parted. She could almost feel him there. Almost. Her lids grew heavy, yet she could not close her eyes. She needed to watch. Needed to see that mouth of his part for her, come to her.
The first brush was so soft it almost didn’t register. Yet every nerve along her skin leapt to life, and she trembled. Her fingers twined in his hair as he pulled back a fraction. An unsteady breath left him, and his mouth returned. Another brush, a bit deeper. An exploration, the warm, wet glide of his tongue into her mouth. His fingers touched her cheek. She trembled and leaned closer, ready to crawl onto his lap and slip her hand into his trousers to grasp that cock she knew would be so very hot.
“Ahem!”
The voice was loud enough to make them freeze. Anger and frustration stabbed her breast as Win pulled away. But she blinked in surprise as a puff of frosty air left his mouth. Had she done that? She stayed where she was as Win looked up at whoever stood behind her.
“Yes?” Win sounded far less irritated than she.
The man—it was a man—made a sound of reproach. Poppy did not turn around. The voice belonged to Grevis, the old fusspot librarian who always gave her the gimlet eye. And though she was in fact his superior, she did not favor the idea of having him catch her in the act of kissing. Likely the man had an idea who she was—her red hair being unique—however, as long as she did not turn, they both could maintain the illusion of anonymity.
Grevis’s sonorous tones rippled over her. “The Reading Room is for study and reflection, sir. Not for… loose behavior with one’s…”
“Wife?” Winston supplied softly.
The mere word had Poppy’s heart skipping a beat. It had been so long since he’d openly used that tone, as if he did so to not only protect her honor but to lay a claim. A pulse beat at his neck, and then a warning flashed in his eyes. His hand still cradled her cheek, not letting go.
“Yes, well, kindly finish what you are doing here and attend to your wife,” Grevis paused and Poppy felt his censorious stare upon her shoulders, “elsewhere.”
Win held Grevis’s gaze for a beat and then he eased. “We are nearly finished here.” With that, he turned his attention back to the papers, dismissing the man with nothing more than a shift in posture, and Poppy could see the son of a duke shine through. Did he even realize it?
Winston glared down at the papers in his hands but could not focus. “And to think, I used to like librarians.” Everything in him shouted to finish what he and Poppy had started, to take her now. Had the librarian not caught him, he just might have done so. “Bloody busybodies.”
Poppy laughed, but her voice held a huskiness that danced along his spine. “You’re merely sore because he had impeccably bad timing.”
“ ‘Sore’ is an appalling understatement,” he muttered, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.
He cut her a quelling glance, and her grin widened. “Why, Winston Lane,” she said, “I do believe you are in a snit because you got your fingers caught in the biscuit bin.”
“Lovely metaphor.” His lips pinched as he tried to read. Really, the words ought to make sense now. But they merely swam before him. “Are you going to crow or concentrate upon the task at hand?”
“I thought I’d crow a bit more. After all, it’s always a bit of a triumph to see even the smallest of cracks occur in the great Winston Lane’s polished veneer.”
He set his papers down then. “Ah, Poppy love, all you have to do is touch me, and you’d feel the cracks in my veneer well enough.”
His reward was her deep blush and the way she nibbled her lip.
“Cheeky,” she said, and then met his gaze. “Kiss me again.”
His breath left him in a rush. Need. Want. Take. Primitive lust had his hands shaking and his heart slamming against his ribs. Her soft lips were so close, plumped up from his earlier ministrations. He could lose himself in her mouth, kiss her