Page 23 of The Autumn Leaf Bookshop (Everly Hollow #1)

“I love it when you call me that.” His mouth curves faintly, but his eyes are like fire as they lock onto mine. “Raene…”

My name sounds like a confession on his tongue.

I shouldn’t be turned on by hearing him say my name. I can feel heat curling in my core and wetness starting to pool in my underwear. Should I accept it or be disturbed by how he makes me feel?

He leans closer, so close I feel his breath warm against my skin as his hand slides from my hip to my cheek, his thumb grazing my jaw in the most gentle caress.

I press my palms against his chest, my brain is telling me to push him back, but the hard lines of muscle under my hands make me melt, and somehow, I keep my hand there. I’m entranced by the way he smells, like warm spices and citrus, books, and something purely him .

I can’t resist. Not anymore.

My fingers curl around the back of his neck, pulling him closer, closer to my lips.

The kiss starts gently, teasing-like, like neither of us is ready to let go of the anticipation.

We pull back just enough to search each other’s faces, to see if we’re both ready to lose this battle, and then our mouths crash together, hungry and desperate.

I cling to him like my body has wanted it forever.

He grabs my ass with a roughness that takes my breath away and lifts me as if I weigh nothing, never breaking the kiss.

His tongue slides against mine, demanding and intoxicating, and I wrap my arms around his neck, my legs instinctively hooking around his waist, locking at the ankles.

A whimper escapes my lips, and he swallows it like he’s starving for every damn sound. Then he gives me a low, guttural moan that vibrates against my mouth, and it’s one of the sexiest sounds I’ve ever heard.

As much as I hate fall, he tastes like it. Like cool autumn air, strong coffee, and a hint of cinnamon. He tastes like a craving I never knew I had, especially for this season, but it’s something I’d give anything to keep.

His body presses me deeper against the doorframe, and it makes my pulse thrum in my ears. His hands move to the sides of my thighs that are squeezing his waist, his fingers digging into my leggings like he’s trying to ground me to him, and every damn nerve in my body is on alight .

“You have no idea what you do to me.” He breathes the words like a secret against my mouth, yet they're rough and broken, like it’s difficult to get them out.

I gasp when his hips shift, the friction sending a sharp, dizzying bolt through me. I can feel the wetness of the fabric rub against my clit.

I say his name, my voice shuddering, and honestly, I’m not sure if it teeters on the cusp of a warning or a plea.

He leans back just enough to look at me, his eyes luminescent, the intensity of his gaze threatening to burn right through me. He takes a deep breath, shivers slightly, and presses his forehead against mine. “Say my name like that again, and I won’t want to let you go.”

I don’t want him to let me go. Not now.

I kiss him again, harder this time, and he groans low in his chest. His hand slides up my side, under my shirt, fingertips brushing bare skin. I arch into his touch without thinking, and moan when his thumb grazes my ribs, underneath one of my breasts.

He pulls back again, his lips swollen from kissing, his voice a rasp. “You taste like summer,” he says, his mouth curls into a sexy smirk that makes my stomach somersault.

“Good,” I whisper, my lips brushing his. “Then we’re even on the seasonal front.”

His hand cups the back of my neck, and he kisses me again, slower this time, like he’s taking his time, wanting to memorize the shape of my mouth, the taste of it .

His other hand grips my ass tighter, pressing me closer to him, and my whole body melts into his.

I can feel every hard, perfect inch of him through my leggings, and it’s maddening.

My fingers tangle in his hair, and it’s just as soft as I hoped it would be.

Tugging slightly, he moans into the kiss. It’s low and raw.

“Careful, Raene,” he murmurs against my lips. “You’re playing with fire.”

I love the way his nose brushes mine; the subtle intimacy makes me smile and sigh, as I run my hands through his hair.

“Then I want you to burn me,” I tell him, my voice shaky but certain.

The look he gives me can torture a woman…as his hand starts to go lower. Please don’t stop. I can feel myself throbbing with anticipation, wanting him inside me.

“Tell me if you want me to stop,” he says, his tone low, strained, as if he is barely hanging on by a thread.

I shake my head, my hands on his shoulders. “I don’t want you to stop.”

Something flashes in his eyes, like all control has snapped. His hand moves lower, slipping into my leggings.

He leans forward, his fangs scraping that sensitive pulse point on my neck as I tilt my head to give him access. A violent shudder rolls through me.

“I can smell your arousal before I even touch your pussy…” His fingers dip lower, teasing the slick heat of me, just one finger stroking through my wetness before pulling back to trace slow circles over my clit .

My head immediately falls to his shoulder, my nails dig in, and I suck in a breath before letting out a moan.

“ By the Seven , Raene…” he breathes, forehead pressing to mine as he dips a finger inside me, deep and slow, then adds another as his thumb continues its torturous rhythm.

“Oh my…” I groan, like I’m already falling apart, every pump of his fingers steals my breath. My head tips back against the doorframe, eyes fluttering shut, as he moves slowly, finding the rhythm that makes my knees go weak around his waist as I creep closer to that edge.

It feels so good.

“Look at me,” he commands, and when I force my eyes open, his gaze is locked on me. “I want to see you.”

Fuck .

I can feel the heat building inside of me, and it’s unbearable. It’s too much. My hips rock against his hand, my breath coming out in short, shaky gasps as his fingers curl upward to hit the right spot.

“Just like that,” he murmurs, his lips lightly brushing my jaw, my neck.

“Just…” I moan, rocking against him with a sharper roll of my hips, “like…” the word torn from me as heat pools even lower, “that.” I cry out, my voice shaking as I grind harder, desperate for more, not breaking eye contact.

“You’re so beautiful like this. The Goddess herself would envy you, Raene.”

The pleasure coils tighter and tighter, so sharp I dig my nails into his shoulders, nearly breaking the skin .

“Ash…I—” My lips part, but no words come out. I can’t speak. I can’t even think, I just feel, caught entirely by the pull of him.

“I’ve got you,” he growls, his lips brushing my ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down my spine. “You’re close, aren’t you? So perfect for me…” He pauses, his teeth grazing my earlobe. “...but I need you to let go, Goddess.”

And I do. The wave crashes through me, and I cry out, sobbing as my body trembles and clenches around his fingers. He doesn’t stop; he keeps moving inside me through every pulsing aftershock.

His lips are against my temple, murmuring words I can’t even hear because I don’t think I can process anything coherent at the moment.

When the world finally starts to piece itself back together, and the stars have floated away from my vision, I’m limp in his arms, my forehead once again pressed to his shoulder.

He exhales a shaky breath, kissing my hair before slowly lowering my legs from around his waist, setting me on my feet. Only my feet don’t quite work. My knees buckle, and I grab onto his shirt, still panting and breathless. My heart is trying to get back under control.

“Easy,” he says, one arm around my waist, holding me steady. His eyes are bright, a beautiful gold that pulls me in even further, and his jaw is tight like he’s fighting for control. “I’ve got you.”

I glance down, catching the obvious strain of him through his jeans, and heat floods me all over again. I want to fix that. I want to give him the same undoing he just gave me.

I reach for his belt, but his fingers close gently but firmly around my wrist. “Another time,” he says with a small, crooked smile, bending to pick my purse off the ground for me. His restraint feels almost unbearable.

“But…” I start, but the shake of his head cuts me off, handing me my purse.

“I’m okay,” he says, voice rough. “I’m more of a giver. I hope you consider that…adequate, he teases, but his face is serious.

Whoa.

“Alright then,” I say, my eyes not leaving his face.

A flutter of wings draws my gaze upward to see Nim, swooping back into the shop through an open skylight. He dives into the tree, and as he does, a single leaf drifts down and lands softly on the floor. I tilt my head.

“Is that normal?” I ask, pointing at the leaf.

Ash turns, his gaze following mine. He walks toward it, and I fall in step behind him. Crouching down, he picks up the leaf by the stem, turning it over in his hand as if it might reveal some secret as to why it has fallen. He straightens and runs a hand through his hair.

His face shifts, worry and puzzlement shadowing his features. “I’ve never seen a leaf fall, ever. With the enchantment, it shouldn’t be possible.”

“Are you okay?” I ask softly, reaching out, needing to touch him. A moment ago, it was all heat, and now he’s looking at the leaf as if his world is ending.

“Yeah…” he says, though it sounds more like a reflex than the truth. His gaze drops down to the leaf again, before he sets it carefully on the counter as if it will shatter. “Yeah.” He says a final time, but his eyes lift back to mine, and unease still flickers there.

“I know you have to get going, but are you sure I can’t convince you to stay? Just a little bit longer?” His hands slide to my waist, tugging me closer.

I reach up, my thumb brushing over the stubble on his jaw. “I wish I could, but I have plans with my grandmother. Just know…” my lips curve. “I had a nice time with you today, decorating…and accomplishing some other…things.”

His chuckle is low and warm. “Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm…”

He kisses me, soft and gentle, like that very first time, and it’s enough to make me want to stay.

“I’ll talk to you soon,” I whisper, forcing myself to pull away before I change my mind.

Even as I leave, I can still feel him. His hands are imprinted on my skin, his mouth owns mine, and the way he made me come apart like I was something delicate and precious in his arms, it lingers like a mark on my soul that will never leave.

Where the hell do we go from here?