Page 46 of The Librarian and the Rock Star

Jack ordered us a bottle of Shiraz, we took a little time with the menu before both ordering steaks. Once the server left with our order, I asked, “You must come here often if he knows you.”

Jack’s eyes were wide as he shook his head. “No. I’m here like maybe once a year. But I always seem to get seated in his area, and he always remembers me.”

“That he is either a fan or an excellent server.”

“Well, he certainly is that,” Jack said, looking over my shoulder as breadsticks were being brought to us.

Looking around the restaurant, I noticed that a few people were casually glancing in Jack’s direction, twisting their heads away quickly when they saw that I was watching. After I had a few sips of wine, I had to ask. “Doesn’t it get to you, people looking at you all the time?”

He shrugged. “It’s just something you get used to.”

“I never could.”

“Sure you could,” he said. “It’s like weightlifting. First, you lift one pound, a week later you lift two pounds, a week later you lift five. So just let me stare at you for a few minutes every day, then a few more minutes, and eventually, you’ll be so used to it that you’ll prance around in the street excited for people to stare at you.”

“You are truly bizarre.”

“Sometimes, I suppose.” He swirled his wine glass, then took another sip. “This stuff really does get better after a couple of minutes of air.”

Our fabulous dinner was accompanied by a wonderful conversation, as we got to know more of the wild, wonderful, and mundane details of each other’s lives.

Jack collected buttons from every single band that he could. I collected photographs of weird textures and color combinations. We both truly loved coffee and red wine, and a huge variety of books. He hated tea, but drank it when he had a sore throat so his voice would heal faster. I can’t stand cauliflower, but he loved it with garlic. We both loved industrial construction shows.

As we were leaving, I asked, “Want to come back to my place and hang out?” He nodded, grabbing us a cab. The butterflies in my stomach had stopped flying and were now tap dancing. But it was time to go with my guts.

26. Sleepover

We split a bottle of sweet white wine, vegging out on the couch watching terrible British comedies, pausing the shows over and over to rewrite the dialogue to make it funnier, sillier, or about either libraries or rock and roll. After a few hours, my sides hurt from laughing, and I knew that getting up in the morning would be a challenge.

“I have to be at work before nine,” I said, turning off the TV.

Jack jumped up. “I’m sorry, I’ll get out of your way.”

He picked up the wine glasses, taking them to the sink and scrubbing them before putting them on the rack. I stared in wonder, curious why a man this gorgeous, sweet and funny was spending time with me. A voice in the back of my head was screaming, do not let him leave , and the voice in my guts concurred. They so rarely agreed, that I had to listen.

“You can stay here tonight if you like.” His smile lit up the room. Why does every expression he made look like it belongs on a poster?

“Will Lizzie be okay with that? She won’t think I’m being too pushy?”

Jack hung up the dish towel, coming toward me with his eyes absolutely sparkling. He held my hands in his and kissed them gently. “I need you to know,” he said softly, “If you want to just snuggle tonight, I would be thrilled beyond belief. I think you can tell how much I want you, but I don’t want to do anything unless you’re absolutely sure.”

I looked deeply into those black, intense eyes, and felt something inside me shatter. Taking his hand, I led him to the bedroom, then pulled off his T-shirt.

He wrapped his arms around me, kissing me gently as he unzipped my dress. I lifted my arms so that he could pull it off me. At the moment my head was covered, he kissed along my collarbone, sending little shivers through me before freeing me. Standing in front of him in my underthings, I felt like his stare was burning through me.

Realizing that I was a little uncomfortable, he gave his head a shake. “I’m sorry. Keira, you’re just so beautiful.” He dropped his jeans, giving me the sauciest little smile.

Lunging at him, I possessed his lips as I pushed him onto his back on the bed. I spread my body over him, straddling his hips and pressing into him. I felt the crotch of my tiny lace panties rubbing against the rigid length of his shaft through his briefs. He groaned,

grabbing my ass and shifting under me.

“I’m sorry I need to say something unsexy for just a second. I get a complete round of tests every six months, I’m all good, and haven’t slept with anyone in over a year anyway.”

“Oh,” I said, surprised that he would be so forward, but supposed that it was necessary these days. “Um, I haven’t been with anyone for, well, over a year. And I’m on the pill.”

“Condoms are your call,” he said, with just a hint of hope in his voice.

“I–” my hips were squirming against him and I couldn’t be polite anymore. “I need your bare skin.”

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