Need Me (Broke and Beautiful #2)(18)

She ran her finger along the middle row of books, searching for him through the various gaps. When his face came into view, she encountered the urge to retreat. He looked so serious, head bent over a book, eyebrows knitted together as he flipped pages one way and then the other. When he landed on the page he obviously wanted, he rocked back on his heels with a satisfied nod.

And she giggle-snorted.

His head came up, an indignant frown blanketing his features, as if a reprimand for her outburst in the sacred library hovered right on his tongue. Instead, when he saw her, he went still. “Ms. Perribow.”

“Professor Dawson.” She sent a sidelong glance down the aisle to make sure they were alone. The fact that he did the same sent fizzy prickles down her arms. Maybe because it was an acknowledgment that their conversations weren’t innocent enough to be overheard. “What are you reading?”

He seemed surprised by her casual question—but he slowly held up the book so she could see the cover. “Heart of Darkness.”

She pulled out a book halfway and nudged it back in. “Fitting. What’s up next? Moby Dick?”

His right hand came up to scrub over his jawline. “I assume you’re referring to my behavior yesterday. My accusation . . . everything that happened . . . was out of line. I apologize.” He snapped the book shut. “It won’t happen again.”

Somehow, his stubborn obstinacy only made her want to push harder. Definitely a destructive idea, but she couldn’t seem to help herself. This dim, deserted corner was a neutral setting, and they were alone. The silence of the library felt like a cloak around them, the books muffling everything that took place.

A distinctive throb had started at the elastic waistline of her leggings, making her want to squirm. Amazing, when a giant row of books separated their bodies. The opportunity to make him experience the same couldn’t be passed up. “No. It won’t happen again.” She propped her chin on the shelf. “But you’ll wish it would. Won’t you, Professor Dawson?”

YES. YES, I wish it right now. I’ve been wishing it all day.

Unbelievable. He’d come to the library to escape the constant thoughts of her that seemed to inhabit his classroom. Now, here she was, surrounded by books, which were fast becoming his second favorite thing to look at. Replaced by this petite, fresh-faced blonde who refused to be scared off. Why was he so goddamn relieved by that? By the fact that he could drive a wedge between them, the way he’d done yesterday, only to have her kick it free? The last thing he’d expected was to have her approach him—speak to him—and why did she have to look so cute with her hood drawn up over her head?

After the shitty way he’d felt since yesterday, remembering her shamed expression when he’d put the equivalent of two feet in his mouth instead of one, he was forced to admit he wanted to know more about Honey. Not just how hard she could take it before screaming or if she’d pull his hair, although yeah, he wanted that knowledge in his head, badly.

Hell, though. He wanted to know the girl who wrote the papers. The one who made him feel as if his lectures were having an impact somewhere. The girl behind the intelligent eyes that could go from inquisitive to seductive in a heartbeat. She fascinated him on more than one level, and while he wouldn’t act on it, he wasn’t blind enough to deny the different levels of attraction toward her, either. He was too curious.

“Why is your hood up indoors?” Great opener.

She tugged on the drawstrings, tightening the opening until only her nose was visible. “It’s like my own little invisibility cloak. I can hide from mean librarians, chatty classmates, and the shushers.”

“The shushers?”

“Mmm hmm.” She loosened the hood so he could see her eyes once more. The humor in them made the bookcase between them feel ten miles high. “The shushers who shush. I can’t even get away with a shoe squeak in here. You think in the noisiest city on the planet, people would cut each other a little slack.” Her lips tilted at the ends. “You’re a shusher, aren’t you?”

“Shush. Don’t tell anyone.”

Honey laughed into her hoodie sleeve. Ben’s hand turned to a fist to prevent himself from reaching through the gap to tug it away so he could hear the sound. God, was he flirting with her? What an odd turn of events. An unacceptable one that he should cut off immediately, but damn, he wanted a few minutes more. No one was watching. No one would know.

“Are you in this section looking for a specific book? Or are you just hiding from Miss Woodmere?”

Her eyes widened at the mention of Columbia’s notoriously mean librarian. “She’s terrifying.”

“She is,” Ben agreed, taking a step closer to the shelf. Cinnamon. “And she’s rumored to feast on the bones of freshmen, so I’d limit my shoe squeaks if I were you.”

“I appreciate the advice, oh sagest of professors.” Her voice was solemn, but her eyes twinkled. “So do you have a book suggestion? I was thinking I’d pick up something by Austen.” She wet her lips, the twinkle turning heavy. Was she looking at his mouth? “Persuasion, maybe?”

Jesus. Russell was always accusing him of being an epic nerd, and he was beginning to see the truth behind that accusation. Because her clear innuendo was turning him on, but so was the fact that she obviously knew her nineteenth-century literature. If he didn’t reel himself back, he’d be joining her on the other side of the bookcase, and that could not be allowed to happen. All sense of accountability for his actions went out the window when she was within reaching distance. “Persuasion has a happy ending. Not everything does, Ms. Perribow.” Good grief, I just said “happy ending.”