Page 114 of Battle of the Bookstores

Another brush of lips on my temple. “I’m in bed with my fantasy girl, and she’s naked and warm and soft, and I’m touching her exactly where I’ve been dreaming of touching her. I’m having the time of my life.”

A warm glow settles in my chest. “Fantasy girl?”

“You have no fucking idea.” The words are a deep rumble, and another wave of pleasure rolls through me.

“Tell me.”

He lets out a chuckle. “You want me to talk dirty?”

“Sure.” It’s not something I’ve liked in the past, but Ryan is getting me to believe in the power of change.

“Let’s see…the day you moved those squeaky bookcases, Iwaswatching your ass. Trying not to think about how I wanted to pull your skirt up and pull your panties down and bend you over and bury myself inside you.” His fingers pick up the pace, and I feel a rush of heat. “Even when we were fighting, I’d have these impulses to press you against a bookcase and kiss you until you squirmed. Dreams, too. I’d wake up so hard I couldn’t function.”

My legs begin to tremble. He keeps talking, keeps touching me.

“I’ve imagined waking up with you in that bed at the inn, and we’re spooning and I get harder until you let me slide inside you, both of us lazy and sleepy, my lips pressed to the back of your neck and my hand between your legs.”

My fingers find his open shirt and I clutch it, bracing myself against the intensity of this feeling. It’s more than the building arousal—it’s his words. This isn’t simple dirty talk. These are his most intimate thoughts, murmured in my ear like confessions.

“At work I find myself listening for your voice and thinking about how your lips look like a perfect bow, and how your neck starts flushing when you get riled up. Like right now.”

I can’t respond; I’m on the edge, and he lowers his mouth to my ear and says, “Of all the books I’ve ever read and all the fantasies I’ve ever had, none of them hold a candle to the reality of being with you. You are what I’ve been waiting for.” He presses his lips to my jaw. “Please trust this: I will do whatever it takes to give you every single thing you have ever wanted.”

I’m starting to believe him. He’s so patient, and it’s paying off—my legs are tense and I’m breathless. My grip tightens on his shirt, and I squeeze my eyes shut and arch my back and—

This climax is a rolling wave, tossing me up and under, and when I resurface, I feel like I’m floating in warm, calm water. Slowly, I become aware of my body’s weight against the mattress, the sheet covering my bottom half, the scratch of Ryan’s shirt collar against my cheek. The press of his lips against my hair and his voice murmuring, “Watching you fall apart is the sexiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Fuck,” I whisper. I am in so much trouble with this man.

“Is that an exclamation or an instruction?”

I blink. “Huh? Oh. Both.”

Without further ado, I reach down and grab his belt. We’ve had plenty ofslow—I’m ready to speed things up. I bat hishands away and whip that belt off, then unbuckle his pants to reveal baby blue boxers and a bulge veering to the left.

I palm him and he groans. It’s clear that Ryan is a giver, but now I’m desperate to see him take it, to watch him unravel and know that I’m the cause.

“My turn,” I say.

I’d like to say I have as much finesse as he does, but I’m a trembling mess as I pull his shirt off him, then struggle to get his pants down. He helps me, tossing them on the floor. I reach into his boxers and wrap my hand around him.

“Oh, thank god,” I whisper.

“What?”

“I was terrified that you’d have some monster giant dick.”

An awkward laugh. “I’m not sure how to respond to that.”

“I’m thrilled,” I say honestly. “I know women in romance novels want to be knotted or split up the center or get their backs blown out—and good for them—but this woman is ecstatic to see a penis that appears to be proportional and manageable.”

“That’s…” He pauses. “Good?”

“It’s great. Perfect. Wonderful. I mean, nothing about you is small.” I tug his boxers down; he helps me take them all the way off and send them in the direction of the rest of his clothes. “On your back.”

He obeys without a word. It’s almost comical, how much space he takes up in the bed, his legs sprawled out so his feet don’t dangle over the edge. Finally, I have him completely naked. Thick thighs and muscular calves, all covered in curly golden-brown hair. The skin near his upper thighs and hips is creamy and soft and I have half a mind to make him roll over so I can see that view. Instead, I make my way down, kissingthe smooth skin near his hip bone, running my hand down that nice happy trail until I get to where I want to be. I wrap one hand around him and lick the tip.

“Fuck,” he hisses.

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