the last trimester, but damn, if I don’t want him right now, right here, in Hanna’s Bookstore. I am repulsed by my behavior but I am so aroused, I completely dismiss it.
I want him to touch me.
I grab his hand and pull it up to my rear. He sweeps it over the cotton of my panties and rubs my ass softly. He doesn’t ask if it’s okay. He knows I’m done for. I’m his. I’m sure he knows he could do whatever he wants to me at this point, right here in the gardening section of this quaint little bookstore. I long for him to take me against the rows of books, press my back against the shelving, make the books rattle.
I finally turn to face him. I want to kiss him. He fixes me with the slightest hint of a smile…an impish expression. He takes me in — my eyes, my mouth. He can’t hear my heart, or feel the pulsing between my legs, but he can probably see it in my eyes; see every cell of my being is itching for him. He leans in and I stretch to the tip of my toes to meet him halfway, eager.
When his lips press against mine, I feel the tension drain along with my resolve. Any iota of self-control I had is gone.
I pull him closer and my hands cling desperately to his face, my nails dig into his flesh. I kiss him like I’ve never kissed him before. I bite his bottom lip, the edge of his jaw. I want to eat him raw. I don’t know what has come over me. All I want is him.
He tears himself away. “Mirella…” he breathes as his gaze darts down the narrow aisle. “We’re getting…a little carried away,” he whispers, his words ragged.
I pull him to me and kiss him again. This time, he gets lost in it too. His kiss is wild. He presses me hard against the bookcase, the shelves dig into my back. I almost completely drown in him. The hunger of his kiss consumes me wholly as his tongue travels to the hollow of my neck, and his feverish hands pull at my panties.
I realize this can’t happen like this…here. We’ve both gone off the deep end, consumed by this inexplicable desire. Some kid could walk in for ice cream at any time. I push him away, ragged, and tear myself from his grip. “You’re right…we are getting…” I say, completely breathless, “getting carried away.”
The look on his face is unmistakable. He wants this just as much as I do. But at this point, I know he would never dare pursue it. I know he will fully respect me and not manipulate me, despite the fact that I can tell he wants me as badly as a starved man wants food.
I stand still. My eyes can’t seem to pull away from him. He’s so beautiful, and seductive, and gentle.
In a flash, I pull him to me, my fist full of his navy tee. “I’m closing-up-shop for five minutes.”
My fingers are shaking as I flip the store sign around, the word ‘closed’ visible to the people outside. I think about Gabe as I walk to the door and lock it.
I can’t do this to him.
What the fuck am I doing?
As soon as I reach Weston, he pulls me to him and his kiss consumes me. I try to pry myself away.
“Weston…” But his mouth on mine weakens me and renders me speechless. I want him so badly. How do I get out of this? He pushes me towards the back of the store, behind the shelving, where no one can see us.
I try to pull away again. But he grabs my rear and hoists me up against the back door, his mouth plastered on mine. My light summer skirt is hiked up around my waist. He presses his body hard against mine, rubs his hard-on against the cotton of my panties. Dry humping against a door — damn, I feel like I’m seventeen again.
Just a minute to enjoy him. That’s all I’m taking.
I’ve missed everything about him; the minty taste of his mouth and his clean earthy smell, the feel of his stubble on my hands, the softness of his hair, the feel of him, hard against me. His mouth lingers on mine as he rubs against me over and over, my legs wrapped tightly around him. He groans loudly as he presses harder. He’s hurting me, but