Chapter 23

twenty-three

. . .

Sloane

The library is quiet, the faint buzz of the air conditioner the only sound as I make my way up the stairs. My heart races with every step, a mix of nerves and anticipation tightening in my chest.

This is ridiculous. I’m ridiculous. It’s not like I haven’t seen him before—seen all of him before—but something about meeting him here, in this tucked-away, clandestine corner of campus, makes it feel…different.

Dangerous.

When I reach the third floor, the soft glow of sunlight streaming through the tall windows, I spot him immediately. He’s sitting at one of the back tables, his long legs stretched out under the desk, looking completely at ease.

And he’s wearing glasses.

I stop in my tracks, my breath catching as I take him in. The fitted gray sweats sit low on his hips, clinging just enough to highlight the lean muscles of his thighs. The tank top is snug, showing off his broad shoulders and the sharp lines of his arms. And then there are the glasses—thin black frames perched on his nose, making him look maddeningly intelligent and hotter than any guy should have the right to be.

How dare he?

He glances up from the book in his hands, his expression calm, neutral, like we’re just two students meeting for an innocent study session. His lips twitch into a barely-there smirk when he catches me staring.

“Right on time,” he says, his voice low and steady. “I was starting to think you’d chickened out.”

I roll my eyes, trying to steady my breathing as I walk over to the table. “You’re a little too confident for your own good, you know that?”

He sets the book down, leaning back in his chair with that infuriatingly cocky grin. “And you’re a little too nervous for someone who doesn’t think anything’s going to happen.”

“I’m not nervous,” I lie, pulling out the chair across from him.

“Oh, really?” he says, arching an eyebrow as he rests his chin on his hand. “Then why are your hands shaking?”

I glance down, cursing inwardly when I realize he’s right. My fingers tremble slightly as I unzip my bag, pulling out a notebook and setting it on the table like I’m actually planning to take notes.

“Maybe it’s because I don’t know why you’re wearing those glasses,” I shoot back, hoping to shift the focus. “Is this part of the disguise? Or are you just trying to look smarter than you are?”

He laughs, low and warm, and the sound sends a shiver down my spine.

“You don’t like them?” he asks, adjusting the frames.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Good,” he says, leaning forward slightly, his eyes locking onto mine. “Because you’re going to be seeing a lot more of them.”

The words hang between us, charged with more meaning than they should be, and I feel my cheeks flush.

“Stop distracting me,” I mutter, flipping open my notebook even though I have no intention of using it.

He doesn’t reply, but the look on his face—the way his smirk softens into something darker, hungrier—tells me he’s not planning to let me study anything except him.

“Hey,” he says, his voice taking on a serious tone. “I’ve missed you these last couple of days. Seriously.”

I wave it off, trying to keep things light. “Oh, you’ve missed the sex. Obviously.”

“I do enjoy the benefits. But no. I’ve missed you. I like just hanging out with you, too, you know.”

I glance away, fiddling with the edge of my notebook, but his hand covers mine, warm and grounding.

“Hey,” he murmurs, his tone soft but insistent. “You okay?”

I nod, forcing a small smile. “Yeah. Just…I don’t know. You caught me off guard.”

He studies me for a moment, then leans back, his smirk returning. “Want to take a walk?”

A few minutes later, we’re weaving through the shelves, the quiet hush of the library wrapping around us. I clutch a book I pulled off a random shelf—a really big one, heavy enough to double as a doorstop—pretending to read the back cover as we move.

“You’re really into that, huh?” he teases, glancing at the book.

“Oh, yeah. It’s riveting,” I deadpan, turning it over in my hands.

He smirks. “So…you like big books?”

I glance up at him, tilting my head. “I like a lot of big things,” I say, lowering my voice as my fingers trail down his arm. “Why? You hard yet?”

His eyes darken, and his smirk sharpens as he steps closer, his voice dropping. “Not quite yet. Why?”

“Can I help you with that?”

His breath catches, and for a moment, I think I’ve caught him off guard. But then his smirk returns, slow and deliberate.

“Not that this is about taking turns,” he says, leaning in so his lips brush my ear, “but there’s something I want to do.”

“What?” I ask, my voice a little breathless.

He doesn’t answer—not with words, anyway. Instead, he takes the book from my hands, setting it on a nearby shelf, then drops to his knees in one fluid motion.

“Asher—” I start, my voice a mix of surprise and nerves, but the look he gives me silences every thought in my head.

“You okay?” he asks, his hands sliding up my legs, pushing my skirt higher as he waits for my answer.

I nod, my breath hitching as he presses a soft kiss to the inside of my knee. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he murmurs, his lips trailing higher, sending shivers rippling through me.

I brace myself against the shelf, biting back a moan as he moves closer, his mouth warm and deliberate against my skin. The world narrows to just him—the way his hands grip my thighs, the way his tongue teases, the way my body trembles with every soft, maddening touch.

Then I hear it.

Footsteps.

“Asher,” I whisper urgently, tugging at his shoulders. “Someone’s coming!”

He glances up, his eyes still dark with hunger, but he doesn’t panic. Instead, he leans back slightly, adjusting his glasses as he mutters, “Dropped my glasses. Don’t worry.”

The footsteps get closer, and I hold my breath, my heart racing as I see a librarian’s shadow moving down the aisle.

“Everything okay over here?” the librarian asks, her voice casual but curious.

“Yep!” Asher says loudly, still crouched on the floor, pretending to search for something. “Just dropped my glasses. Got ’em now. Thanks!”

The librarian pauses for a moment, then continues down the aisle, her footsteps fading into the distance.

I exhale sharply, my cheeks burning as Asher stands, brushing off his hands with an infuriatingly calm expression.

“Let’s get back to studying for Econ,” he says loudly, glancing at me with a barely concealed grin.

I glare at him, but the effect is ruined by the way my legs are still trembling. “You’re insane,” I mutter, grabbing the book and shoving it back onto the shelf.

“Better get back to studying,” he counters, his smirk widening as he takes my hand and leads me back toward the corner table.

“So…econ. What do you think about the Gold standard? Do you think it really caused all the wars of 1914?”

“It wasn’t the cause

He smirks. “Every time I try to out-smart you, you’re one step ahead of me.”

“Does that intimidate you, that I’m smart?”

He laughs. “Honestly…yeah, I admit it. I think you’re smarter than me.”

“It’s not a competition.”

His hand falls on me. “Promise me something, Sloane.”

“Yeah?”

“Just that you’ll never, ever dumb yourself down for me. I like you exactly the way you are.”

My breath catches as he sits down in the chair I was just occupying, his hands still holding mine as he guides me closer.

“Come here,” he murmurs, his tone a mix of command and invitation.

I hesitate for half a second, my heart pounding, before I let him pull me into his lap.

The second I’m straddling him, his hands move to my hips, steadying me as I settle against him. My skirt rides up slightly, and I’m hyperaware of every inch of him beneath me—solid, warm, and completely focused on me.

“This okay?” he asks, his voice softer now.

I nod, swallowing hard as my hands rest against his chest. “Yeah.”

“Good,” he says, a hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth before his lips capture mine.

The kiss is slow at first, deliberate and teasing, but it doesn’t stay that way for long. His grip on my hips tightens, pulling me closer as the tension between us snaps, giving way to something more urgent, more consuming.

My fingers curl into the fabric of his tank top, and I can feel the way his muscles shift beneath my hands as his lips move against mine. He kisses me like he’s been waiting for this moment forever, like he’s trying to make up for every second we’ve spent apart.

A soft sound escapes me, and his hands slide up my sides, sending heat pooling low in my belly. He pulls back slightly, his forehead resting against mine as he catches his breath.

“God, I’ve missed you,” he murmurs, his voice rough and unguarded.

His words send a fresh wave of warmth through me, and I tilt my head, pressing a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

“I’ve missed you too,” I admit quietly, the truth slipping out before I can stop it.

His eyes darken, and I can see the flicker of something deeper in them—something that scares me as much as it thrills me. But before I can get lost in it, his lips are on mine again, silencing every doubt, every question, and leaving nothing but him.

His hands move to my waist, sliding beneath my sweater and grazing the bare skin of my hips. The contrast of his calloused fingers against my softness sends a shiver rippling through me, and I can’t hold back the quiet gasp that escapes my lips.

“Asher…” I whisper, not entirely sure if it’s a plea or a warning.

He leans back slightly, his smirk returning as his thumbs draw slow circles against my skin. “You’re even more beautiful than I remember,” he murmurs, his voice low and rough.

My cheeks flush, and I can’t stop the soft laugh that bubbles up. “You saw me two days ago.”

“Too long,” he says, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Before I can respond, his hands tighten on my hips, lifting me effortlessly as he stands. My breath hitches as he carries me the short distance to the desk, setting me down with a deliberate slowness that makes my heart race.

The cool surface beneath me contrasts sharply with the heat radiating from him, and I’m hyperaware of how exposed I am, my skirt riding high as he steps between my legs.

He rests his hands on my knees, his gaze locking onto mine as his fingers trail upward, spreading my legs with a deliberate, unhurried motion.

My pulse pounds in my ears, my breath catching as he kneels before me, his smirk softening into something more reverent.

“You’re nervous,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost teasing.

“A little,” I admit, my cheeks flaming as his hands slide higher, his touch sending sparks racing across my skin.

“Good,” he murmurs, leaning forward just enough for his breath to ghost over my thigh. “I like knowing I can do that to you.”

“Asher, what if someone comes?” I blurt out, my voice a little too loud for the hushed sanctity of the library.

He pauses, his lips hovering just above my skin, and tilts his head to look up at me. The glint in his eyes is unmistakable—equal parts amusement and challenge.

“No one studies at this hour,” he says smoothly, his hands still tracing lazy patterns on my thighs. “And if they do? Guess they’re getting a free show.”

My jaw drops. “Are you serious?”

He shrugs, his smirk deepening. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had an audience.”

I swat at his shoulder, mortified.

He takes my wrist gently and presses a soft kiss to my palm, his playful expression softening for a moment. “Relax, Sloane. No one’s coming. Just me and you. That’s it.”

His reassurance does little to calm the frantic fluttering in my chest, but the way his hands slide higher, anchoring me in place, makes it hard to remember why I was worried in the first place.

My vision blurs, the world narrowing to just him and the heat pooling low in my belly. I lean back on the table, my palms pressing against the cool surface for balance as Asher sinks his mouth between my legs.

A soft gasp escapes me, my body tensing at the first brush of his lips. He moves deliberately, his hands gripping my thighs to hold me in place, his thumbs tracing small, maddening circles against my skin.

“Asher,” I whisper, my voice trembling, but I don’t even know what I’m asking for.

He glances up, his eyes dark and full of something I can’t quite name, before dipping back down, his tongue finding a rhythm that steals the air from my lungs.

The contrast between his mouth—hot, soft, unrelenting—and the cool library air against my skin sends shivers rippling through me. My fingers curl against the edge of the table, gripping tight as waves of sensation roll through me, sharp and insistent.

“You taste incredible,” he murmurs, his voice rough and muffled against me. The words send a fresh jolt of heat through me, and I arch my back, unable to keep still under his touch.

Every nerve in my body feels like it’s on fire, the tension building with every slow, deliberate movement. He’s meticulous, teasing me with just enough pressure to keep me on edge, never letting me fall completely.

“Asher,” I say again, this time more desperate, my hips shifting against his hold.

He chuckles softly, the sound vibrating against me in a way that makes me tremble. “Patience,” he murmurs, his lips curving into a smirk I can feel more than see.

I bury my face in my arm, biting back a moan as his hands slide higher, his thumbs pressing into my hips to keep me steady. The tension inside me coils tighter, threatening to snap, and I know I’m seconds away from losing control completely.

The thought that someone could walk in at any moment flickers through my mind, but it only adds to the rush, the intoxicating mix of fear and desire making every touch, every sound, every movement feel sharper, more electric.

“Asher, please,” I whisper, my voice breaking as the dam finally starts to crack.

His grip tightens, his mouth working me over with a single-minded focus that sends me careening over the edge. The world blurs, my body trembling as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over me, leaving me breathless and completely undone.

“Please, what?” He says, looking up, and licking his lips.

“Please. I need it.”

The words fall from my lips before I can stop them, raw and desperate, and I can see the shift in his expression immediately. His smirk softens, replaced by something darker, hungrier, as his hands move to the waistband of his gray sweats.

“You need it, huh?” he murmurs, his voice low and teasing as he unties the drawstring with deliberate slowness. The soft rustle of fabric fills the quiet space as he inches the sweatpants down, his movements unhurried, as though savoring every second.

My breath catches as more of him is revealed, my heart pounding in anticipation. The sharp line of his hips, the tension in his thighs, and finally—him.

“Is this what you want?” he asks, his voice a little rougher now, his confidence radiating through every word.

I can’t look away. The sight of him steals the air from my lungs, leaving me dizzy with want. Heat floods my cheeks, and I nod, my voice barely a whisper when I manage to speak.

“Yes.”

His smirk returns, a little sharper this time, as he steps closer, his hands sliding to my hips to pull me flush against him. The heat of his skin against mine is overwhelming, and I grip his arms for balance, my fingers digging into the hard muscle beneath.

“Say it again,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against my ear.

I swallow hard, my voice trembling as I obey. “I want you.”

The low growl that escapes him sends a shiver down my spine, and his hands tighten on my waist, anchoring me in place. His gaze burns into mine, dark and unrelenting, as though he’s searching for something he already knows he’ll find.

“You’re going to have me,” he says, his voice a promise as his lips find mine, hungry and insistent. “All of me.”

“Mmm,” he groans, his voice low and rough as he presses into me, inch by inch, stealing the breath from my lungs. “It never gets old, taking you bare.”

The words hit me like a spark, igniting something deep inside. My nails dig into his shoulders, anchoring myself as my body stretches to accommodate him, every nerve ending coming alive under his deliberate movements.

There’s something primal about the way he says it, like he’s savoring every second, every inch, every sound I make. And I am making sounds—soft, breathless whimpers that I can’t control, that I don’t even want to.

I tilt my head back, my breath catching as he fills me completely, the stretch just on the edge of too much. His hands slide to my hips, holding me steady as he pauses, letting me adjust, his dark eyes locked onto mine.

“You feel so good,” he murmurs, his voice raw with restraint, like he’s holding himself back for my sake. “Every damn time.”

A soft moan escapes me, and I grip him tighter, pulling him closer as I meet his gaze. There’s something in his eyes—intensity, hunger, and something softer, something I can’t quite name but that makes my chest tighten.

“It’s different with you,” he admits, his tone softer now, like he’s saying it more to himself than to me. “You make me lose my mind, Sloane.”

His words send a shiver down my spine, and I can’t hold back the small, breathless laugh that bubbles up. “Good,” I whisper, my voice shaky but teasing. “You’re not the only one.”

His smirk returns, sharp and knowing, and he dips his head, capturing my lips in a kiss that’s slow and consuming. His movements are deliberate, controlled, but I can feel the tension in his body—the way his fingers tighten on my skin, the way his breath hitches with every shift of my hips.

“God,” he groans, his forehead resting against mine as he starts to move, each thrust slow and deliberate, making me feel every inch of him. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

His words send a shiver racing through me, and I cling to him, my nails digging into his shoulders as the tension inside me coils tighter, sharper, unstoppable. Every movement, every sound, every touch pulls me closer to the edge, until it’s all-consuming, a storm building inside me with no way to hold it back.

“Asher,” I gasp, my voice breaking as the waves crash over me. The world dissolves into white-hot pleasure, my body trembling as my orgasm surges through me, stealing my breath and leaving me utterly undone.

He groans again, his grip on my hips tightening as his pace falters, his own restraint clearly slipping. “Sloane…”

A few moments pass, the room filled only with the sound of our ragged breaths. His hands move to my waist, steadying me as he leans back slightly, his gaze locking onto mine.

“On your knees,” he says, his voice low and commanding.

I blink, my heart racing at the intensity in his tone, but I obey without hesitation, sliding to the floor as he stands.

The look in his eyes as he watches me is enough to make my cheeks flush, but there’s no time to be self-conscious. He grips the base of himself, his knuckles brushing my lips in a silent invitation.

“Finish me,” he murmurs, his voice rough with need.

I glance up at him, my lips parting as I take him in. The taste of him, the way his hands tangle in my hair, the low groan that escapes him as I move—every detail sends a thrill racing through me, fueling my own desire to please him.

“That’s it,” he mutters, his voice strained as his fingers tighten in my hair. “You’re so good at this. So fucking perfect.”

His breaths come faster, his body tensing as he nears his release. I brace myself, my hands resting on his thighs as he finally lets go, his low groan filling the room as he spills into me.

I swallow every drop, savoring the way his body shudders beneath my touch, and when I glance up, the look in his eyes—sated, unguarded, and still completely focused on me—makes my chest tighten in the best way.

“Come here,” he murmurs, pulling me to my feet and into his arms.

I rest my forehead against his chest, my body still trembling as his hands slide up my back in a soothing motion.

“You’re going to ruin me,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to the top of my head.

I smile, closing my eyes as I let myself get lost in him, even just for a moment.