Page 124 of Battle of the Bookstores

“I am not saying those words to you.” His voice is a growl.

“Tell me.”

“No.”

I stick my finger in his face. “I swear to god, if you don’t tell me—”

“Shut the fuck up and take that dick like a good girl.”

And my knees hit the floor.

30

Ryan

My fantasy girlis on her knees in front of me, tugging down my pants. I stumble backward and hit the dresser behind me.

“Josie, wait, I didn’t mean you had to—”

But she’s already reaching into my boxers and wrapping her hand around me.

“Please,” she says, gazing up at me, her eyes so big and bright they almost hurt to look at.

I can’t deny this woman a single thing, so I nod, and she slides her tongue up my shaft. She circles the tip before taking me in her mouth, warm and wet. Gasping, I grip the edge of the dresser as she works me with her hand, sliding up and down in rhythm with her lips, taking me deeper each time.

Flashes of the last three months play like a movie sequence in my mind: that first day, when she called me Brian; when she stormed over to Happy Endings, all fiery and gorgeous, accusing me of sending the Book Club Sluts to sabotage her event; the moment I realized she was BookshopGirl; dancing in Maine; Josie reading steamy scenes out loud at the bar;kissing her on the beach; kissing her at the store, in her apartment.

But as incredible as this feels, something is missing. It’s like she’s tucked all her tenderness back inside, the hidden softness I’ve spent weeks trying to uncover, the warmth between us, all the sweetness of our past week together.

Somehow, I’ve fucked this up. But all of this, everything, was for her. I just want Josie to get everything she’s dreamed of. Everything she deserves.

Even if I could find the words to say any of that right now, I’m not capable of speaking. So I lean back and close my eyes, surrendering myself to the mercy of this woman and her magic mouth.

“Josie…” Her name on my lips feels like a prayer. I don’t know if I believe in God, but I believe in Josie, and I believe in us. “Josie, Josie, fuck, Josie—wait.”

I need to be closer to her, to feel her body next to mine and see her gorgeous green eyes. So I reach under her arms and haul her up. She’s startled and flushed, and I catch a glimpse of something—sadness?—in her expression.

“What’s wrong?” she asks. “You don’t…want this?”

The hurt in her voice is another dagger in my chest. “Josie, I willalwayswant this. I’ll always want you, but can we—”

She comes up on tiptoe and puts her mouth on mine, silencing me. Message received: she doesn’t want to talk. I’m not sure exactly what she wants, but I’m desperate to make this better, so I return her kisses, hard and deep.

Soon we’re tearing at each other’s clothes; she’s yanking my T-shirt up and off and I’m fumbling with the buttons on her blouse, popping one off as I rip it open to reveal her glorious cleavage against a black bra. So beautiful. I want to fall to myknees and worship her for hours, but she’s still kissing me with a fervor that takes my breath away.

Josie unclasps her bra, and my brain goes hazy. All I can think about is touching her, feeling her soft skin and hard nipples under my fingertips.

She moans, then stifles it by pressing her lips to my shoulder. I hate that she’s quieting herself with me after I’ve heard the sounds she makes when she feels safe and uninhibited. I reach down and pick her up, spinning so her back is against my bookcase. A few paperbacks fall from the shelves, but I hardly notice. Josie’s skirt rides up her thighs as she parts her legs so I can step between them.

I’m living out the fantasy I’ve had for weeks, but it feels like there’s an emotional mountain between us, and this physical connection just isn’t enough.

I know she’s not happy about this other job, but she’s got to see this was the only option. She has to understand that I’m committed to us. Is this her way of thanking me for giving it all up for her? Or is she trying to show me what I’ll be missing when I go?

I cup her face in one hand and force her to meet my eyes. “Josie, please tell me what’s wrong.”

Tears are caught on her eyelashes, and I hate myself for making her cry. But I still don’t understand why, because she won’t fuckingtalkto me. “Words, remember? I need words.” I lean my forehead against hers, breathing hard. “Baby. Talk to me. Please.”

My voice is ragged, desperate. And when I pull away slightly to meet her eyes, I see the same desperation reflected in hers.

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