Page 165 of Burn Bright
Does he want to have sex today? Now?? Here??? It sounds illicit and raunchy, but nerves prick my neck in slight alarm. We’re on campus. What if a librarian finds us screwing against the shelves? I can’t risk my education after I worked so hard for it.
I try not to jump to conclusions and play it cool. “You about to fuck me, Cobalt boy?” I ask, a little raspy, because I do want him to fuck me.
Just nothere.
Ben has an elbow on the shelf, his hand to his mouth as he contemplates the situation, as he studies my body. “I’m not taking you in the library, Fisher.”
That was hot. Especially when his lips edge upward, like he knows lust is coursing through me. A rejection shouldn’t even sound that fuckingsexy.After I mentally detour around the attraction, relief comes in soothing waves again. Ben and I are on the same page.Thank God.
“It’s too public for you?” I’m guessing.
“We get caught, you get kicked out of school, so yeah.” He is worried about what would happen to me. My lungs keep swelling.
Breathing in this heady feeling, I rotate to the books.
“Shit,” I say, my shoulders falling.
“What?” He follows my gaze to the literal highest shelf. WhereMetamorphosesis situated.
“It had to be a thousand feet above me,” I mutter, about to search for a stepstool when Ben snags the book without any trouble. He barely even had to reach. He places the hardback in my hands, and I wish this small act of kindness wouldn’t crush me like I’m being bulldozed by a love truck. It’s one thing to openly acknowledge that we want to fuck each other, another to openly havefeelingsfor someone who made it clear he won’t be around for long.
I look away.
He hunches over, his hands on his thighs, so we’re eye-level. I’m avoiding him.
“Fisher.”
“Do you hear that?” I swallow, peering behind me, acting interested in a dusty corner.
“Petit oiseau.”
I chew on the irrepressible smile. What has this guy done to me?
“Friend.”
I turn back to Ben.
He takes the absolute deepest breath, then he pushes my bangs up with his warm hand. Staring at what I’m sure is a grimace. His lips inch up and up. “Bel oiseau.” He translates, “Beautiful bird.”
My heart enlarges. “I think that’s you.” I’m lost within the light of his eyes for a moment. “Not a black sheep.”
“No?”
“No. Sadly we aren’t the same breed after all, Friend.” My mouth pinches in a smile though, totally okay with this realization. “You’re the bluebird in the lion’s den. That’s likely what you’ve always been.”
He seems overwhelmed with how I view him.
Don’t leave me.“I want you to stay,” I say through the lump rising in my throat.
“I want to stay,” he says so deeply, as if the yearning is even more torturous for him than for me. I don’t understand how it could be. He’schoosingto ditch New York for the woods.
“Then stay.”
He shakes his head once, pain all over his face. “I can’t.”
“What’d you buy—real estate you can’t sell?” I ask.
“I just can’t, Harriet.” It is physically hurting him to talk about this, so I stop prodding. He never poked me until I bled, and I recoil at the notion of doing that to Ben.
