Page 16 of Must Love Libraries and Libations (Moonshine Hollow #2)

“What if…” I bit my lip, then decided wine had made me brave enough to voice the thought. “What if she wants honesty? Real honesty. And not just about wanting to escape.”

“What do you mean?”

I took a deep breath. “I mean, what if we have to be honest about…about what’s really happening here. Between us.”

He went perfectly still. “Miss Windsong…”

“Because something is happening, isn’t it? That kiss yesterday wasn’ t nothing.”

“I shouldn’t have?—”

“But you did. And I kissed you back. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it ever since.” My heart was pounding so hard I was sure he could hear it. “Have you?”

For a long moment, he just stared at me. Then, quietly, he said, “No. I haven’t.”

The admission hung between us like a spark waiting to catch fire.

“So, what do we do about it?” I whispered.

Instead of answering, he reached out and touched my cheek, his fingers rough but gentle. “You make everything complicated, Miss Windsong.”

“Primrose,” I corrected breathlessly. “Just Primrose.”

“Primrose,” he repeated, and something in the way he said my name made my stomach flutter. He stepped closer to me, leaning in, his lips close to mine but not touching. “Even your name is full of life and light. Too cheerful to be attached to someone like me.”

“You forget,” I said with a grin. “Even the sweetest-smelling roses have thorns.”

“Not you,” he whispered. “Never you,” he said, then gently set his lips on mine.

When he kissed me this time, it wasn’t hard and desperate like before. It was slow, deliberate, like he was memorizing the taste of me. His lips held the warm sweetness of the wine, with the deep oak flavors lingering behind. But there was also him…just him.

And I wanted him.

I melted into him, clutching his shirt as he drew me closer.

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he murmured against my lips.

“That makes two of us,” I replied, then claimed another kiss.

His hands found my waist, pulling me onto his lap, his tail wrapping around me. I could feel the heat of his skin through his clothes, the way his breathing had gone rough and uneven.

“Primrose,” he gasped into my ear. “Tell me to stop.”

“Now, why would I do that?”

His mouth moved to my neck, pressing hot kisses along my throat that made me gasp. His hands roamed my back, one settling at the base of my spine while the other gently gripped the back of my neck.

“You are so soft. I have felt nothing like you in so many years. Smooth like silk,” he said, his hand drifting up my arm. “You’re so unlike what I am.”

I was drowning in sensation, in the feel of his mouth on my skin and the low rumble of his voice. When his lips found the sensitive spot on my collarbone, my back arched, and I couldn’t hold back a moan.

The sound seemed to inflame him. His hands grew bolder, one sliding up to cup my breast through my dress. Even through the fabric, his touch sent fire racing through my veins.

“Do you like that?” he whispered.

“Yes,” I replied, my voice quivering.

With trembling fingers, he unlaced the front of my dress, slowly revealing my breasts. His golden eyes were molten as he looked at me, drinking in the sight of my flushed skin and the rapid rise and fall of my chest.

He set his mouth on my breasts, kissing the mounds. “You taste like summer magic.”

He squeezed my breast gently as his long, forked tongue slid across them.

Lowering the fabric and freeing them, he groaned when he touched my nipple.

I could feel his hard member pressed against his trousers and his tail slipping under the fold of my dress.

When his tongue slid across my pert nipple, I arched against him with a cry.

He lavished attention on one breast, then the other, until I was trembling and desperate for more.

My hands roamed his broad shoulders, feeling the play of muscle beneath his shirt.

“More,” I whispered, surprising myself with my boldness. “Please, Erasmus.”

He lifted his head to look at me, his eyes dark with desire. “Are you certain?”

Instead of answering, I pulled my dress over my head, baring myself to him completely. His intake of breath was audible.

“Primrose,” he breathed, then bent to worship my bare skin with his mouth.

I was lost in sensation. He made me feel like I was the most precious thing he’d ever touched. When his hand slipped up my thigh, his fingers pulling aside my panties and finding the wetness between my thighs, I saw stars.

“You make me come alive,” he murmured, his fingers exploring me carefully. “I’ve spent centuries alone, but I can’t stop thinking about you. I dream of your softness, your smell, of holding you, feeling you. I want all of you.”

“Erasmus,” I whispered.

“Lie back.”

I nodded, and he helped me gently lie down.

He kissed my leg, starting from my knee and moving upward. He drizzled kisses on my thighs.

“May I?” he whispered gently.

“Please. Yes. Please.”

Gripping my hips, he gently began to work his tongue, and then his lips, across my feminine folds.

I cried out, my hands grabbing at his horns.

“Erasmus, I’m sorry, I?—”

“It doesn’t hurt,” he whispered. “Hold on to me,” he said, then went in again.

The sensation was indescribable. His forked tongue did things to me I’d never imagined possible, his strong hands holding my hips as I writhed beneath him.

“Erasmus,” I gasped, feeling something building inside me.

“Feel it all,” he whispered against my heated skin. “Let me give you pleasure.”

And then, I felt something new. His tail trailed up my leg.

As his lips and tongue worked, I felt something else.

The tip of his tail, warm and slightly rough, pressed gently against my entrance.

The sensation was foreign but incredibly arousing, adding another layer to the overwhelming pleasure he was giving me.

“Yes,” I breathed. “Oh, gods. Erasmus…yes.”

The combination of his mouth and the gentle press of his tail slipping in and out of me sent me spiraling over the edge. I came with a cry that echoed off the stone walls, my whole body shaking with the force of it.

He held me through it, pressing soft kisses to my inner thighs as I slowly came back to myself. When he moved up to gather me in his arms, I could feel the hard length of him pressing through his clothes.

“That was…” I couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t find words for what had just happened.

“Everything,” he said, his voice rough with want.

I reached for the fastenings of his shirt, suddenly desperate to feel his skin against mine. “I want to touch you, too.”

He helped me, shrugging out of his shirt with urgent movements that made his wings rustle behind him. His chest was magnificent, all carved muscle and warm, stone-colored skin. I traced the ridges of his abdomen with wondering fingers, marveling at the way he shuddered under my touch.

“Your wings,” I whispered, reaching around to stroke the powerful appendages. They were softer than I’d expected, the membrane warm and sensitive. When I traced along the edge of one wing, he made a sound that was pure pleasure.

“Primrose,” he groaned. “I… It’s been a very long time since I’ve been with anyone. And never someone like you.” His voice was vulnerable in a way that made my heart clench.

I cupped his face in my hands, meeting his uncertain gaze. “You matter to me, Erasmus. I think…I think I’m falling for you.”

He went very still. “Primrose…” For a long moment, he just stared at me, his breathing ragged, his whole body trembling. Then, so quietly I almost missed it, he said, “I’m falling for you too.”

The moment the words left his lips, the wine cellar filled with brilliant pink light. The music swelled to a crescendo, and, suddenly, we were tumbling through space.

“Primrose,” Erasmus called, grabbing me protectively, his wings wrapping around me as the witch’s magic took hold of us. We swirled in brilliant pink light, music mixing with giggling laughter as we tumbled through the air.

And then…

With an unexpected thump, we landed in a heap on what felt like a much softer surface, Erasmus’s full weight pressing me down, his wings still wrapped around me.

“Ow,” I mumbled against his shoulder.

“Primrose. Are you all right? Are you hurt?” he asked, immediately trying to lift his weight off me while his wings unfurled. The movement made us both very aware that we were still very undressed, neither of us knowing where we were.

“I’m fine, but we’re practically naked. And where are we?”

The blinding pink light made everything blurry.

“I don’t know… I…”

But then, a familiar chittering sound made us both freeze.

Erasmus pulled back, and we looked around, the room finally coming clear. As a half-elf, I had good night vision. The room came slowly into view, revealing…

“Stevenson?” I asked, spotting the bookwyrm. He was sitting on a bookshelf, studying me curiously.

The bookwyrm trilled questionably at me.

“Oh my god, we’re in the library proper!” I squeaked, frantically looking around for anything with which to cover myself.

The witch had deposited us on a couch in one of the reading nooks in the back of the library. And there I was, in only my panties, Erasmus in a state of undress, his erection pressing dangerously at the seams of his pants.

I grabbed a pillow from the couch and rose, looking around everywhere for my dress.

“Erasmus,” I said, desperation in my voice. “My dress!”

He rose quickly and began looking frantically. “Library,” he said. “We need Miss Windsong’s dress. Will you please help?”

Nearby, the books on the stacks shuffled as if in agreement, then the shuffling set off in every direction as the library itself attempted to save me from the kind of embarrassment that would make me want to leave Moonshine Hollow.

“My mother! If my mother hears about this, she’ll die right on the spot.”

Erasmus turned, looking about for my dress, but then paused. “Wait. Something is not right…” Erasmus said, buttoning his shirt as he rose. “Wait here.”

“Erasmus,” I whispered. “Don’t leave me.”

“One moment.”

He stepped out of the nook, disappearing around a corner.

“Erasmus!”

The moment he turned the corner, I heard the bookwyrms call to him. They were so loud. I had never heard them so loud before. A chorus of clicks, honks, and whistles reverberated off the walls of the library. Usually, the creatures merely read or slept.

Once more, the bookcases gave a shudder, and as if carried on the wind, the vibrating books pulled my dress along and set it gently in my hands.

“Oh, thank all the gods. Thank you, Library,” I said, and began quickly pulling on my dress and hurrying to join Erasmus.

Against all odds, I’d penetrated his stone heart. He said he was falling for me. I hoped it was true, because I was one hundred percent falling for that stubborn, infuriating, and perfectly wonderful gargoyle.