WE TALKED INTO THE rest of the night, our backs to the bookshelves and junk food wrappers from the vending machine in a pile at our feet. We talked about Riley, Sophia, the future, how since I had a big red stain on my criminal record and couldn’t do police work that maybe I could start my own private detective business like the dude from the Lisa Montgomery book Heist My Heart. Yeah, I’d been at the presentation to hear her, far enough from Paige so she wouldn’t see me yet, and it was fucking awesome.

Paige collected the trash and brushed stray crumbs off her tight black skirt as she stood. “There’s one more thing we haven’t talked about.” She held her hand out to help me up, and the slight V in her hot librarian button-up shirt dipped for a nice view.

Jesus H., I’d missed her. Not just her body—hear that, dick?—but how we just clicked together so comfortably. I’d never spent almost the entire night talking to a woman about our future, but it felt exactly right. Everything felt right with her, especially her hand in mine when I grasped it and the immediate zing between our palms. I stood, close enough so the toes of my boots and her librarian heels touched.

“What’s that?”

Her tongue skimmed the bottom of her teeth and her chest heaved. “Um, we haven’t talked about bacon.”

I smoothed some hair behind her ear then tracked my thumb down her jaw. “Bacon?”

“Uh-huh.” She closed her eyes when my thumb found her lower lip and outlined its perfect shape. “I like having your around, so maybe we could talk about portion control.”

“No can do,” I said and replaced my thumb with a kiss on the corner of her mouth. “I have no control.”

“Me neither,” she said with an evil grin. Then she wrapped her arms around my neck and kissed me with her whole body.

I pushed her against the bookshelf and shifted so my thigh rubbed up her center, then pressed into her to feel the heat between her legs. She gasped. I moaned into her mouth.

“While you’re at it,” she said between kisses, “can you grab Rage For Two?”

My head swam with need. I fisted the bottom hem of her shirt to keep from falling over, my knuckles scraping over the warm flesh at her waist. Her skin was so soft, so perfect. My fingers crept toward the dip of her spine just above the delicious rise of her ass. Her silk thong teased my fingertips. Her whole body arched into mine when I gave them a slight tug.

“I asked if you’d get me a book,” she panted, “not play with my underwear.”

“I didn’t know they were mutually exclusive.” I sank my lips to her ear, close enough to breathe against it, and groaned when she squirmed against my thigh. “Would you like me to remove it?”

Her eyes flamed brighter, and her beautiful mouth fell open. “My underwear?”

“My hand. What kind of book retriever do you think I am?”

She laughed, a breathy one that sounded more like a sigh. One hand circled my waist. The other fingered the button on my jeans.

“I missed you.” Her gaze flicked up to mine.

“Me too.” I grabbed the book from the top shelf and brushed its frayed edges across her cheek to her lips, memorizing each tug and ripple and the way they fell apart on a soft moan. Her warm breath blew across my knuckles. The fingers of my other hand slipped over her hip to the skin on her belly and pulled at the top of her thong in a steady, slow rhythm. Her head fell back against the shelf, her eyelids fluttering with every pant. I knew that if I slid my hand a little lower, she would be soaked.

“You missed you too?” she asked.

I sank into her with a loud affirmative groan, kissing, tasting, teasing her with my tongue while my hands explored everywhere. She melted around me, the heat between her legs pressed into my thigh, her arms winding around my back to pull me closer.

I worked open the clasp of her bra. Her soft skin tipped with hard nipples against my hands nearly undid me. I rolled one underneath my thumb while my other hand slid lower down her smooth belly, taking her skirt down with it. With just her thong between us, I could smell her sweet arousal. It worked my entire self into a frenzy. I pinned her against the bookshelf, my hips already thrusting against her, while I claimed her mouth, her tongue, her soft moans for my own.

One frantic hand fumbled with my zipper while her other fished for a condom in my pocket. “I’ve never...fucked in a library before.”

But sweet Jesus, I could tell by the excitement in her voice that she’d always wanted to.

I slipped a hand to her thigh, wound the fabric of her thong around my fist, and yanked. She gasped, her chest heaving against mine, her warm hand freeing my dick and guiding it into a condom. Then, with one slow push, I was inside, every muscle clenched at just how little control I had. It had been six months. Good thing we had the rest of our lives to make up for it.

With her legs hiked up around my waist, I pumped into her, slowly, but quickly losing control. I reached between us and swiped my thumb across her clit. She came instantly, contracting and shuddering and moaning around me. My own release stormed down my back and straight to my balls.

We collapsed against each other, breathing hard, while the woman I loved looked at me as if I were home.