Karina Bliss: What the Librarian Did / LA Cinderella: What the Librarian Did / LA Cinderella

She didn’t think, didn’t question. She didn’t do anything Rachel Robinson normally did. It didn’t seem to be that important. She couldn’t stop. Not even when his mouth settled on hers with a possessiveness Devin wasn’t entitled to, and his hands slipped under the flounces of her dress and pulled her closer to the erection under his jeans.

Tugging out his shirt, she slid her hands beneath it and across his broad chest to the tight male nipples. His body was extraordinary, every ridge and indentation a moving, living landscape for her exploring fingers. Someone was panting, and Rachel became conscious that it was her and tried to shut up. But he kept doing things that made her gasp as he steered them toward the bedroom.

When they came up for air, she saw a white bed on a black granite floor in a starkly beautiful room that overlooked a thousand twinkling city lights. Devin kicked off his boots, shrugged out of his jacket and pulled off his shirt. The dragon on his right arm glared at her. Under his right pectoral, another tattoo began—an abstract of curves and spirals in the Maori style, tracing over his ribs and disappearing into his jeans.

“You okay?” Devin asked, and Rachel realized she’d stalled.

“Yes.” Trying not to feel self-conscious, she unzipped her dress and stepped out of it, remembering too late she was wearing those awful knee-high stockings.

Devin’s gaze roamed hungrily over her lingerie and stopped below her knees. “What the hell are those?”

“Sex toys … you never know when you’ll need ties.”

“Great, let’s use ‘em.”

“Have you no inhibitions at all?”

“None.” He took her into his arms once more. When he bent to kiss her again she couldn’t remember which way to turn her head, and they bumped noses.

“Sorry.” Her arms were suddenly wooden around his waist. “Devin, I don’t—”

“My fault,” he said. “I’m overthinking this. To tell the truth, I never had sex completely sober. And I haven’t had sex at all for over a year.”

Rachel lost her self-consciousness. Of their own volition, her arms lifted to wrap around his neck. “I’ll try and be gentle,” she whispered, and Devin chuckled. This time when they kissed there was no mistiming, no awkwardness. They’d recaptured the lazy, electric ease that narrowed their world down to this room.

His fingertips were light on her face as he traced her features, watching her through half-closed lashes, a smile tugging at his mouth. By touch, she learned the slight bump in the strong bridge of his nose, the scar under his right eyebrow. Above the raspy jaw, his cheeks were baby-soft.

Her nipples tightened as his thumb dipped between her breasts in the black strapless bra and began a gentle circling under the lace. She pulled his head down for a kiss, warm, liquid, and they fell on the bed, where they bounced on the springs and broke apart, laughing.

Lifting his knuckle, Rachel kissed the dragon’s head, then followed its sinuous length up Devin’s arm. Under her lips, his skin broke out in goose bumps.

His fingers tangled in her hair. “Before we go too far, let me get some condoms from the bathroom.”

Rachel didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

He rolled over her to go get them and somehow her bra ended up at her waist and his mouth at her breast, his hands teasing circles on her inner thighs. She pushed him off. “Go!”

Sitting up, Devin cupped her face and smiled. Somehow it was a gesture more intimate than anything they’d been doing on the bed, and her throat tightened. “How did we end up here, again?” he asked.

“Wrong turn I guess,” she said lightly. She’d learned a hard lesson eighteen years ago. Never confuse sex with love.

“No,” he said. “Sooner or later I would have got you here.”

Something in his male arrogance took her straight back to another charmer, and Rachel instantly stiffened. “You … sound like you planned this,” she said, watching him closely.

She caught the telltale flicker of guilt before he smiled at her. “This I didn’t plan.” He disappeared into the bathroom.

So good, she thought, stunned, at faking sincerity. And oh, my God, she’d nearly fallen for it. Humiliated, Rachel hauled up her bra and covered her breasts.

Except she wasn’t sixteen anymore and no man got away with making a fool of her. Reaching for her dress, she paused. She had an idea. Did she dare?

When Devin came back, she was lounging seductively against the pillows in her underwear. Rachel held up the stockings. “Let’s use these.”

He blinked, then chuckled as he rejoined her in bed, jeans tightening over muscle. “You nearly had me.”

“And I want to have you.” She dropped her tone to husky. “Tied up.”

Half smiling, he scanned her face, and Rachel hid it against his chest, right over the place where his heart should be. His hand caressed her nape and she resisted the urge to turn her head and bite it. “I’ve always wanted to try it,” she murmured instead, “and you’re the perfect guy to do it with.” Under her cheek Devin’s ribs rose and fell in what felt like a sigh. But when she glanced up he gave a lazy shrug.

“Sure, babe, whatever you want.”

“Lie down.” All business, she looped one of the nylons around his wrist, then tied it to the bedpost.

“You put your bra back on.”

Rachel grabbed his other hand. “I’m shy.”

“You know,” Devin said thoughtfully, “I never thought I’d say this, but I was kinda looking forward to old-fashioned sex for our first time … ouch. Maybe you could loosen the tension on that one.”

She yanked his trapped wrist against the post and double knotted the second stocking. “So you’re suggesting they’ll be other times, then?”

His eyes narrowed. “Okay, what’s really going on?”

Rachel clambered off the bed and glared at him. “This wasn’t something that just happened. You had every intention of seducing me tonight, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but you changed my mind and then …”

“And then?”

“Hell, I don’t know … you changed it back.”

With his arms tied to the bedposts above his head he looked like every Amazon’s idea of a human sacrifice, pagan, muscular and deliciously vulnerable. Furious at the direction of her thoughts, she bent and scrambled for her dress. “You’re pathetic.”

“Rachel, you know we’re about more than sex.”

Hand frozen on her dress, she barely registered his comment. There was a pair of red stilettos under the bed. Lying on their sides at right angles, as if they’d been kicked off in a hurry.

I haven’t had sex at all for over a year.

The son of a … Enraged, she picked them up and tossed them onto his washboard abs above the hip-hugging jeans, hoping the heels left a mark. “Next you’ll be telling me you’re a cross-dresser.”

She waited for signs of guilt. For shame. Devin looked at the shoes and started to chuckle. The chuckle grew into a laugh that shook the bed. He laughed until his head was rolling helplessly on his shoulders.

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