Busted

He wanted to shove his hands into her hair, haul her against him—up, into his lap, so he could push her skirt up, free his cock and drive into her.

It was a hot, brain-numbing fantasy.

But as she slid her hands up, he caught her wrists.

“You’ve got no idea,” he murmured, lifting one wrist and pressing his lips to the inside.

*   *   *

The feel of that beautiful mouth on her skin was a tease, a caress . . . a promise. It sent a shiver racing through her entire body and Ressa was tempted to plaster herself against him and do everything she could to make him forget who he was, where they were . . . everything that didn’t include getting naked.

If she didn’t have so much conflict inside her, she could just do what Farrah had told her . . . enjoy the ride.

But she didn’t want to enjoy the ride while it lasted.

There was too much going on to make her think she could have this for a little while and then just let go.

It was there in his smile. In the way her heart tugged when he looked at her.

The way he laughed when she told him about some of the things she’d seen at the library—a couple of teenagers she’d caught making out at the stacks, or the sympathy and irritation that had lingered on his face as she talked about how a group of concerned citizens had descended on the library to discuss the moral repercussions on the community when the library actually purchased sexual-type books. That had been the phrase they’d used when they’d lined up in front of her one Saturday afternoon. Sexual-type books.

Enjoy it while it lasted?

I think I could enjoy him forever.

As he lowered her hand, his gaze moved to hers and he reached up, cradled her face in his hand. “You look a thousand miles away all of a sudden.”

And you see too much.

Forcing a smile, she shrugged. “You know, a friend of mine thinks I should just . . . enjoy the ride.”

Heat flooded his gaze, even as he arched a brow.

“Enjoy what ride?”

She reached up and cupped his cheek. “You. This.”

“I can’t say I’m opposed to you enjoying me,” he said, his voice dropping lower. He covered her hand with his, his thumb stroking back and forth over her skin. “But I think there’s more to it than that.”

“I think we both know there’s a lot more going on here than just a couple of casual dates . . . a casual weekend, and then we say, See you around.”

He moved and she caught her breath as he pulled her into his lap. He did it with ridiculous ease and when she settled there, astride his thighs, it was with her skirt riding high on her legs. The table pressed into her side but she ignored it, looking at him, his mouth just a wish away.

“Is that what you want?” Trey studied her.

Ressa felt something in her chest tighten. Sitting there, with his eyes boring into hers, she felt stripped bare. Vulnerable. She could lie. Let this go. Just see what happened. Right?

“That’s a loaded question, honey.” She leaned in and pressed her brow to his. “I already told you . . . my life is complicated, and I seriously mean complicated. I don’t know if you getting involved with me is the best thing for you.”

He went to speak and she pressed her finger to his lips. “Don’t. I’m not just blowing smoke. But at the same time, I hate the idea of not seeing you. The past six weeks? They’ve pretty much sucked, Trey.”

“Tell me about it.” His lips pressed to hers. His hand curved over her neck as he looked into her eyes. “Maybe you should let me decide about whether or not I want to get involved with you, Ressa. These complications . . . are they really that bad?”

Her gut twisted.

He pressed his thumb to her chin. “Whatever it is, Ressa . . . I want to be with you.”

A million words, a million questions, a million hopes and doubts and wishes crowded up her throat to spill out of her. But before she could even voice one, there was a noise coming from the hall—almost deliberately loud, and the voice was too cheerful.

And obnoxious. “You all are far too quiet . . . is that a good thing or bad?” Mitch called out. “Should I come back? Speak now or forever hold your peace!”

Trey sighed and let go of her waist.

“And what if I was about to tell him to come back?” She wiggled free and smoothed her dress down.

“Not a good idea,” Trey advised. “We’d never hear the end of it, and knowing him, he’d sneak up anyway or try to, thinking he’d get a look at something he shouldn’t.”

“A bit of a pervert, huh?” She grabbed the rest of the wine and tossed it back, her throat dry, her heart racing. What am I doing?

Enjoy the ride, while it lasted—that was the best thing, the smart thing. Ressa wasn’t going to be smart, she realized. She wasn’t going to be smart at all. There was no point. Her heart was already involved.

“No.”

As Mitch came in the door, Trey shot him a look. “He’s not a bit. He’s a full-fledged perv. A card-carrying member of the local degenerates club.”

“Who?” Mitch gri

Then he rolled his eyes. “You two don’t even looked mussed. What is wrong with you?”

I was just asking myself that very question, Ressa thought.

Chapter Twenty

The bookstore was as perfect as the rest of the place.

Small, quaint and cozy, it was tucked off the back of the building. If somebody had asked her to design the perfect bookstore, this just might be it. Lots of dark wood, soaring shelves that held the extra stock, and little book nooks tucked into every available space. There was plenty of light, and during the day even more would pour in through all the windows.

She found herself eying the little seat built into the space under a staircase and felt a thread of envy moving through her. “I want this,” she said. “I want just this. That’s it. I’m remodeling, just so I can have this.”

Behind her, Trey chuckled.

When he slid his arms around her, it felt perfectly natural to lean back against him. “They’ll have people coming in here just to read,” she said.

“Read, and hopefully buy.” He pressed his lips to her neck.

“You going to sign here?” Turning in his arms, she tipped her head back so she could see him, and when he winced, she gri

“I . . .” His face slowly went red and he blew out a rough breath. “I honestly haven’t decided.”

“Why not? You did fine at the book fair.”

“I know.” He let go of her with one last, lingering stroke of her sides and then he stepped away to pace edgily. “That just felt . . . different. I don’t know. It’s easier to flick the author part of me on when I’m not here.”

Ru

“Yeah. Here . . . home. It just feels weird. I like not worrying about screwing up and saying something stupid if I bump into somebody. If I start being author me, that kind of goes away.” He shrugged and shot her a grimace. “That probably sounds stupid.”

“No.” She shook her head. “It sounds like you just want to have a part of your life that stays separate . . . yours. But Trey, people here already know who you are. If you say or do something stupid, it won’t matter if you are in your home space or not.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Do you know there are a few pages on Pinterest? Trey sightings?”

“What?” He blinked at her.

“Yep. Some locals who grab pictures of you when you’re out around town—the post office, grocery store. That sort of thing. You aren’t anonymous here, even if you want to be.” She watched the expressions on his face flit from surprise to frustration to resignation. She decided she wasn’t going to mention that a few people she knew kept up with those Trey sightings. Finally, he just sighed and shook his head and she reached out, touched his cheek. “I guess that’s not making it any easier for you to think about doing anything here, huh?”