Breakaway (Beyond the Play, #2)(50)
To Callum
Oh, girl
I know
Lol RIP
29
COOPER
Penny lets out a sigh, slumping dramatically out of her chair onto the floor.
I glance up from my dog-eared copy of Othello. After a moment, when it’s clear she’s determined to make the dusty underside of this table her new home, I put the book down and shimmy underneath too. It’s a tight fit, given that this old table in the stacks isn’t all that big, but it’s worth it when I see her smile. I shuffle closer. When I ran into her on my way out of the gym this morning and she invited me to come to the library with her, I couldn’t help but say yes. She looked so cute in her forest green sweater and pleated black skirt, her gold butterfly necklace shining in the hollow of her throat, that I couldn’t have said no if I tried.
I let her lead the way, and she dragged me up three narrow flights of stairs to this little nook. I thought for half a second that she just wanted somewhere mostly private to hook up, but then she sat down and took out a gigantic textbook, so I rummaged around in my bag for Othello and the crappy little reporter’s notebook I use to take notes. That was an hour ago. It’s been torturous, even though we’ve been chatting, so I don’t blame her for needing the break.
“This is a disaster,” she whispers.
“Why are you whispering?”
“It’s a library.”
“We’re so far into the stacks, I doubt anyone but us has been here in the past decade.”
“Still. It’s respectful to the books.”
“Are you one of those people?” I ask, my voice as low as hers. “Never dog-eared a page in your life?”
“That copy of Othello is atrocious.”
“I got it used.”
“Still. I’ve been watching you.”
I grin. “I’m distracting, I know.”
“I really should be studying.” She pouts, crossing her arms over her chest. “I just hate it so much. And I hate that I hate it, which makes it worse.”
The emotion in her voice, that edge of wobbliness, makes me reach over and put my hand on her knee. I swipe my tongue over my lip. I want to kiss her, but I manage to hold off. “I’m sorry.”
She kisses me instead, surprising me with the force of her lips against mine, her delicate fingers working through my hair. We haven’t fucked since a couple days ago on the train, and every second of that was worth the ache in my knees. I become aware all over again of the fact we’re underneath a table, tucked away in a forgotten corner of the library, but just when my dick twitches with interest, she pulls away.
“Thanks,” she says, her voice as soft as a cloud.
“You should take your mind off it,” I say, trying to sound normal instead of the total horndog I’d like to be right now. The way her skirt falls over her thighs is practically criminal. “Tell me about your book.”
She shakes her head, but she’s smiling. “You’ve been waiting for a chance to pull that out.”
“Maybe. But tell me at the table, I’m too big for underneath here.”
She snorts, but clambers back into her chair across from me. It was getting cramped under the table, but what I really needed was some separation. Another minute, and I’d have ruined another pair of her tights.
“It’s a romance novel,” she says.
“I figured.”
She goes all squinty-eyed, like she’s expecting me to laugh. I just raise my eyebrows. “What kind of romance?”
She sighs, undoing her braid and shaking out her hair. “I don’t even know if it’s any good.”
“So? It’s still cool that you’re doing it.”
“Thanks,” she says. “I don’t know, I’m trying my best. There are so many authors I admire, and the thought of making up a story that someone might like just as much…”
“It’s magical.”
She smiles. “Yeah, it is magical.”
“I’m nowhere near that creative, so I’m fucking impressed.” I nudge her boot with my sneaker underneath the table. “What’s it about?”
“It’s a fantasy romance. Basically, this wolf shifter has to get mated in order to take over the pack after his dad dies.”
“And he doesn’t want to?”
“Not really, but he knows it’s important, so he’s trying to find someone when this human woman crosses paths with him. She’s on the run from her abusive ex and she needs a place to stay, so he lets her hide out with him.”
“That sounds cool.”
Flush colors her cheeks. “You don’t have to pretend.”
“I’m not pretending.” I lean over the table, reaching out to take her hand in mine. She’s wearing a ring with a little moon and stars hammered into the metal; I wonder if she got it because it reminded her of her book. “I’m guessing they’re like, meant to be?”
“Basically. But he needs to mate a werewolf, so if she wants to be with him, she has to agree to be bitten.”
A grin spreads over my face. “Kinky.”