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“Where is it?”
Julia turned to point at the wooden box on the table by the bas-relief.
Alex ambled over. “I guess you can get high quality junk in Moroccan bazaars, if you’re a choosy shopper.” He picked up the box and cracked it open. “Why, I’ll bet that—” And then he just stared. “Good Lord,” he said slowly.
When his gaze met Julia’s, his eyes glowed green with wonder. The quick jolt of connection took her by surprise.
“What is this?” Alex gazed at the amulet, brushing a finger over it.
“Don’t touch it,” she said, but it sent a shiver through the pit of her stomach. She felt a vibration, as though it were making a sound at some frequency too low to be heard. She swallowed. “I don’t know what it is for sure. It could be nothing. It could be an antique forgery. Or it could be a three-or four-thousand-year-old amulet. Take your pick.”
He whistled. “Not bad for a flea market. So you came down here to poke around?”
“Exactly. Now, if you’ll just give me some privacy….”
“Not a chance.” He set the box aside. “Forget about the doodad for a minute. You said last night that we were going to talk, and that’s what we’re going to do. I think you owe me that, especially after the routine you pulled this morning.”
“There’s no need for it. Especially after this morning.” Julia stepped into the book repository. She just had to remember that it was time to break up with him and get her life in order, not time to fall back into bed with him, despite the little warm flare of arousal that had begun to radiate through her. This was nothing new, it was the same effect he always had on her.
It didn’t mean anything.
“I think we got things settled already,” she added, busying herself with the computer.
“Oh, I don’t think so at all,” Alex said easily, pushing the door back to follow her inside. “If you wanted to break up, then what was last night about?”
“Last night was a lapse.”
“A lapse? Is that what you call it when you put my—”
“A lapse,” she said firmly, struggling to push away the sudden vivid memory of straining naked against him. “It’s over with.”
“So you’ve said. I’d just like to be clear on why that is.” His voice was reasonable, his expression open.
Julia eyed him warily. She knew this Alex. This was the Alex who almost never walked away from a negotiation without getting what he came for. The Alex whose face said “trust me,” even while he was leading his victim down the garden path. This was the Alex who was exceptionally good at getting people to say yes.
People like her.
“We said from the beginning it was going to be casual, that when one of us decided things should be over, they’d be over,” she reminded him. That was good. Clear and indisputable.
“I’m just trying to understand.”
“I’ve had some time to think,” she said as carefully as though she were picking her way through the jungle, looking for booby traps, watching for the loop that might tighten around her ankle and whip her up to leave her dangling headfirst from a tree. “What I think is that it’s best for both of us to end this.”
“For us?”
“For me,” she amended, flushing.
“And when did you decide that? This morning?”
“I decided it last weekend. I’ve just been waiting for you to get home.”
“Last weekend, huh?” He rested an elbow against the shelves and scrubbed the other through his hair. “But now, here’s what I don’t get. You let me in last night, right?”
“Yes, but I—”
“And you came to the door in your robe, which didn’t stay on very long.”
“That’s because you—”
“And then you took off my clothes and dragged me down on your living room floor and let me touch your—”
“Skip it.”
“All of this after you supposedly decided we were finito.” His eyes sparkled. “So why was that?”
Because he had a way of making her forget her own name, let alone anything she wanted except him? “It was late, I was tired.”
“You seemed pretty frisky to me. Incidentally, did you find a button on your living room floor? Because you ripped one loose when you were taking my shirt off.”
“Well, if you’d gotten it off faster, I wouldn’t have had to—”
He grinned at her. “Yes?”
Dangling headfirst from a tree. Julia ground her teeth. “I got distracted.”
“I don’t know, you seemed pretty focused to me. I like those noises you make when you’re focused.”
Her eyes narrowed. “This isn’t a joke.”
“I’m not laughing.” He reached out to touch the strands of hair that dangled from her chignon.
Julia jerked her head away. “You’re not listening either.”
“That’s because so far nothing you’ve said has made sense.”
Because he’d talked her in circles to where she couldn’t remember her points anymore. Her very valid points. Back to basics, she decided. “You’re not my type, Alex. And I’m not yours. This was just an…anomaly.”
He shifted. “And when I touch your anomaly, some very interesting things happen.” He reached out to stroke a finger down her throat.
Julia shivered. “I’m down here to work,” she said unsteadily.
“Go right ahead with what you’re doing,” he told her. “I’ll stay out of your way.” But his fingertips continued down, into the deep vee at the front of her jacket.
And her muscles weakened. How had he managed to get so close? She could smell a hint of his aftershave, spicy and clean. She could see the gold flecks in the green of his eyes. And she knew what came next, could already feel the tendril of heat curling between her thighs. It was the wrong thing to do, she knew it.
It was nothing she could stop.
“You’re not the kind of guy I go for,” Julia said, oddly breathless as she leaned into him.
“I can see that,” he answered, sliding his hands down over her hips.
“I like serious men.”
“I’ll buy some glasses.”
“This isn’t going to change my mind,” she warned him, but she’d already slipped her arms around his neck, her fingers up into his hair, because if she didn’t have him inside her, soon, she was going to die.
And then he crushed his mouth into hers.
It shouldn’t have overwhelmed her. For over six months, they’d been sleeping together. Kissing him wasn’t new. She should have been accustomed to it. It shouldn’t have started butterflies whirling in her stomach. It shouldn’t have made her react.
But she caught her breath and shivered at the taste of him.
And he was smiling, dammit, she could feel his lips curve against hers. He pressed her back against the shelves. “I always have had this librarian fantasy,” he murmured, nipping at her lips, dropping his hands down to unfasten the top buttons of her suit jacket. “Papyrus always gets me hot.” Then he filled his hands with her lace-covered breasts.
She couldn’t stop the moan.
She felt the shelves digging into her back, she knew they had no business doing this here, doing it at all. But his body was so hot against hers that she didn’t care. He was hard, she could feel it through his trousers and she twisted against him, wanting more contact, more friction, wanting to dispense with the infuriating barrier of clothing.
With an expert flick he unsnapped the front clasp of her bra, and slipped his hand up over her breast.
The heat, the quick friction was shockingly intimate in the midst of their surroundings. So forbidden. So arousing. Just the night before she’d lain naked against him and yet somehow here in this staid and sedate place, every touch felt like the first. The air was cool against her skin but his hand was hot, so hot. The raw silk of her jacket rubbed against one nipple; his fingers sent bolts of arousal from the other with every brush and squeeze.
It made her feel wild, wanton. It made her ravenous for more.
“God, you drive me crazy,” Alex breathed against her neck, inhaling her scent. What would she do if he told her just how much it turned him on that he could make her lose that calm composure of hers? That with mouth and hands he could turn her wild in his arms despite herself. He’d never guessed back before they’d gotten involved just how much heat was there, how much excitement. He’d never thought that she’d make him dry- mouthed with wanting. Now, just the taste of her throat, the feel of her pulse under his lips had his cock straining for release.
He felt her shiver, felt the rise of goose bumps as he worked his way lower, tasting the hollow at the base of her throat, the fragile skin on the tops of her breasts. Then he went lower still, desire rushing through him as he took her nipple into his mouth, heard her strangled gasp for air as he swirled his tongue around and over the hard little bud, feeling it furl and tighten.
Julia leaned back against the heavy wood shelves feeling only the slick heat of Alex’s mouth, his tongue on one breast, his hand tormenting the other. And oh, he knew what she liked, the rough scrape of teeth amid the slick caresses.
And the tightness, the growing tightness between her thighs where she knew she was growing wet, where she could feel the pulse of blood thudding.
“So just what do you have on under this?” he murmured, sliding his palms down her hips and up under her narrow skirt, using both hands to slide the fabric up, trailing along the silky hosiery beneath until he hit the tops of the thigh-highs she’d begun wearing habitually since they’d been involved. “Oh, honey,” he said explosively.
And then his fingers journeyed higher, slipping under the edge of the silk and lace she wore. He stroked her with a touch that shot through her like fire.
And oh, his hands were persuasive, fingers moving, circling, teasing her clit. She couldn’t get her breath. She clutched him against her because the heat and the pressure and the friction were tightening and tightening and carrying her along in a mad rush of sensation. She burst into orgasm, shaking against him, gripping him as the only solid thing in the universe.
It left her weak and gasping, half dizzy with reaction. With all that they’d done in the past, it had never been as intense as this. But it wasn’t enough, because he was still kissing her, and to her shock, need built afresh even as the orgasm receded.
Sudden compulsion flowed through her. She had to touch him. She fumbled for his zipper and he groaned as she brought him out, hard and heavy. They might not know each other at all but she knew how he liked it. She knew how to make him shudder and jolt. She knew how to take him so close to the edge, push him so far that he was grinding his teeth to maintain control.
Sinking to her knees, Julia breathed on the swollen head of his erection. She teased it with the tip of her tongue, licking first one side, then the other, quickly, experimentally. And then she slid his cock into her mouth in one quick rush, taking it as deep as she could, ripping a helpless moan from his throat.
It intoxicated her, as it always did. It aroused her. Maybe she was a little out of her depth with Alex, but when she was tasting him, feeling him hard against her lips, feeling his body quake with her every movement of her tongue, she was the one in control. She could play him, speeding up the motion, slowing it down. She could stroke him with hand and mouth and do everything she could to bring him to the edge because she knew he wouldn’t want to come that way. She wanted to tease him. She wanted to push his self-control to the limit until he had to beg her to stop.
And she smiled when she felt his hands on her shoulders, dragging her up.
“Let’s go down here to the reference desk,” Alex said huskily, leading her through the stacks to the row of reading tables against the wall.
“You know, when I was in high school, I had this thing for our librarian.” He walked Julia back until she felt the seat of one of the wheeled chairs against the backs of her knees. “She was fresh out of school, so she used to wear her hair up like yours and these tidy little suits, I guess to make herself look older. I used to fantasize about her, about what she had on underneath. Maybe I should check that out before you check out my books, Miss Covington.” He slid Julia’s skirt up and pressed her into the chair.
Shrugging off his jacket, he knelt before her. Strong and warm, his hands parted her thighs. His eyes were hypnotic. She was dissolving she was so wet, so ready for him to touch her.
“Look at you, so prim in your suit, with all these books around,” he breathed, leaning in to lick her thigh above the stocking, sliding his hands up over her breasts. His breath was warm as a touch, sending little shivers through her, all of it focused on that spot where she ached for him. “Oh, yeah, you’re better than any fantasy.”
He draped her legs over his shoulders, then hooked the scrap of silk out of his way. Helplessly Julia let her head drop back. She felt him trace one finger, then the tip of his tongue through those soft, private folds, making her shudder. And then the time for teasing was done and he found her with his mouth in a slick caress that had her crying out and arching against him.
If he’d tantalized before, now he was relentless, driving her up, eyes hot and intent. He didn’t keep to a rhythm but changed his speed and touch continuously until she could only quake and gasp, waiting for the next touch, waiting for the next taste that would send her over.
She heard a high-pitched gasping and she realized that it was her, and her world focused down to the heat of his mouth, the torment of his hands on her breasts and the want, the want, the want that dragged her closer, always closer as every muscle in her body tightened into the ultimate arousal. So close, teetering on the edge.
When he pulled away, she cried out, until she realized that he’d dragged out his wallet to get at his emergency condom, sheathing himself and thrusting into her with a slick, hot rush that had her crying out again. Then he was moving in her, hot and hard and relentless, using the chair to slide her on and off his cock, teasing her with little strokes and then thrusting himself home hard. And giving her that sweet, good friction that took her up and made everything he’d done with his mouth seem inconsequential next to this hard, insistent reality that dragged her up and up until she was balanced on the edge. And then with another stroke she went over, so that she was falling, shuddering and clenching around him. It was that, finally, that sent him surging against her for a handful of hard, quick strokes to spill himself even as she still shook.
And then Julia heard the noise through the still open door.
She tensed. “What was that?”
“What?” Alex asked hoarsely.
“That noise. Outside.” She scrambled away. Heart hammering, she dragged down her skirt, buttoning her jacket and fighting a growing sense of embarrassment and horror.
Someone was there, and heaven only knew who. What if they’d heard? What if they’d seen? What if she and Alex were busted? Catching her breath, expecting the worst, she hurried out the open door into the main conservation lab.
Only to find it empty. No one there, she saw with a rush of gratitude. No guards, no conservators, no staffers wondering what was going on in the stacks. Just a quiet, empty conservation lab. They hadn’t gotten caught, despite taking an absurd chance. Relief flooded through her.
And then she saw.
“Alex. The box.”
“The box?”
“The amulet,” she almost wailed. “Oh, my God. Did you move it?”
“I put it right back where it was. Right there.” He pointed to the table with the bas-relief, but where the open box had been now sat…
Nothing.
Anxiety swept through her. She couldn’t stop staring, blinking as though the box would magically appear.
But it didn’t. No box, no amulet, just the folder of photographs and drawings, with the smooth table behind it.
The White Star was gone.
4
Friday, 7:30 p.m.
