Leather Bound. Shanna Germain

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      Resisting the urge to say his name again just for the fun of it, I said, ‘Tell me about your book.’

      He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. The dark edges around his irises made his caramel eyes even more like chocolate. It’s weird to admit that I kept wanting to lick his eyeballs, but they just looked so much like a decadent dessert.

      ‘What would you like to know?’ he asked.

      What I wanted to say was: I’d like to know why every time I look up at you, my whole body goes a little trembly. I’d like to know what your mouth tastes like. I’d like to know how your face looks when I very lightly touch the underside of your cock. Whether you’re the kind of man who will hold my wrists down on this very desk while you fuck me.

      What I actually said was: ‘How about a title, an author and a publisher, for a start.’

      ‘Well, that’s the trouble,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t have any of those. Thus the non-existent part.’

      I nodded as if I understood what he was saying, but a bad feeling was forming in the pit of my stomach. We occasionally got crazies at Leather Bound, people who were obsessed with finding something that only existed in their own minds. I hadn’t pegged Davian for that, but you never knew.

      ‘Well, tell me what you do know,’ I said.

      From my semi-precarious position on the desktop, I grabbed my laptop and popped it open, then started taking notes.

      ‘It’s the only copy, because it’s handwritten, and it’s old,’ he said.

      After a hesitant pause, he added, ‘Also, it’s the manifesto of a secret sex club.’

      It was only by the grace of some deity that I didn’t fall off the desk. Or laugh out loud. My internal ‘is this man crazy?’ quiz-taker checked off another box towards a ‘yes’ answer. That made me sad.

      ‘A secret sex club,’ I said.

      He had the decency to look slightly chagrined. ‘I know how it sounds,’ he said. ‘And it’s going to sound even worse when I tell you it’s for a friend.’

      He was flipping the copper closures on his briefcase, staring at me intently. It wasn’t a fidgety gesture but one of intense concentration, as though he was trying to figure out something that was swirling around in his brain. I did that kind of thing sometimes when I was thinking, usually playing with an earring and a pen until Lily had to swat it out of my hand. Something told me it was way more irritating when I did it than when he did; on him, it reminded me of a lion studying prey, deciding on weaknesses before gearing up to pounce.

      ‘It’s called The Keyhole Club,’ he said.

      ‘The book or the club?’

      ‘Both.’

      While trying to type THE KEYHOLE CLUB, my fingers kept going to the s and x keys. I got SEXHOLE the first two times, but I finally nailed it. My ninth-grade typing teacher would have been so embarrassed.

      ‘And it’s a manifesto on sex,’ I said.

      He nodded. This time, my fingers still managed to find the wrong keys. KEY, I wrote. I backspaced three times and then wrote SEX.

      ‘Anything else? Sex is pretty broad.’

      He shook his head.

      ‘Davian, if you’re uncomfortable talking about sex…’

      ‘No,’ he said. ‘I’m not uncomfortable talking about sex. I’m not uncomfortable with sex at all.’

      He shifted forward in the chair, his hands resting on his knees. Only half a foot closer to me, and the hair on the back of my neck lifted at his very presence. Despite how strongly he was falling into the crazy category, that honeyed gaze kept threatening to do me in.

      I shifted back slightly and looked over his head at a blank piece of wall. Nothing to see here. Move along, libido.

      He let me shift back, but didn’t move away himself. I knew it was impossible to feel his breath from where he sat, or to feel the heat from his skin, and most of all it was impossible to feel that he was somehow hitching my lust up with every exhalation, and yet there it was.

      ‘In fact,’ he continued, although I was kind of hoping he wouldn’t, ‘I’m very comfortable with sex. I just –’ and at that he did sit back, and my lust took a little tiny tumble down the stairs, my body sighing in both relief and disappointment at being released. ‘– haven’t ever seen the book myself, so I don’t actually know very much about it.’

      You could just tell he was the kind of man who was used to knowing things. Being in a position where he had to admit his lack of knowledge seemed to put him on edge.

      ‘So you’re looking for a non-existent sex book for a super-secret sex club that a friend of yours, what, lost?’

      Despite the lust that kept blooming in my body at every turn, I was definitely starting to think I was getting taken for a ride. Either that, or this guy had lost his marbles.

      The potentially crazy guy nodded.

      ‘That’s really not much to go on,’ I said.

      He caught me with that gaze again, a tormented heat. I felt the weight of his want as solidly as if he’d pressed himself against me.

      Why do I always have a thing for guys with complicated eyes? Never do I fall for a clear gaze, a simple, single colour. I’m a sucker for a little sadness behind the eyes, a fierce spark of defiance.

      Kyle had that. Davian too. Probably, if I were to look back at every man I’d fallen in lust with, it was true of them all. There was some kind of warning sign in that, if I was smart enough to pay attention.

      But Davian’s gaze was on me, and I couldn’t think beyond the needy lust that licked at my thighs.

      ‘You know,’ he said quietly, ‘I walked in the door with this urgent need to find this book for my friend, but, since I got here, all I can think about is you.’

      His voice carried both surprise and a sense of wonder. I had no idea what to do with either the shift in tone or the complexity his words carried. It was like Davian’s sole purpose was to accidentally keep unbalancing me. It was certainly working.

      ‘By which I mean,’ he added, ‘all I can think about is kissing you.’

      More unbalance. Teeter-totter all the way down.

      At that, my cheeks flushed hot and fast, damn them. In the process of bringing my hand up to my face to cover the red, I knocked an entire pile of books off my desk. He didn’t bend to pick them up nor offer to help. Instead his gaze stayed solidly on mine, almost as if daring me to reach down and get them.

      I left them where they’d fallen, waving my errant hand at them as if to say, ‘No worries, they do that all the time. On their own. For no reason.’

      ‘I don’t … I, uh …’ Get it together, Janine. Least professional bookstore owner ever. Least professional СКАЧАТЬ