This is bizarre...and exciting. It was a fantasy Victoria had cultivated in her mind for years; meeting a man in the stacks and making out with him until an elderly librarian cleared her throat. She just never expected to act it out in her thirties, during a charade like “let me train you in the art of shelving history books.” Placing her hands on his biceps again, she leaned forward. Victoria kept her eyes open this time, staring into John’s smoldering emerald gaze. “I’m ready,” she whispered.

“I am too,” he replied in a soft voice.

She started with a light peck against the seam of his closed lips, flicking a nervous tongue against his bottom lip. When she felt it appropriate, Victoria let her eyes fall shut and angled her face against his beard, easing her tongue past his barrier. A groan escaped his throat as he opened his mouth and allowed her entry. She raised herself on her tiptoes in an effort to reach him, possibly stand over him, and opened her mouth wider. Hanging on to his muscular arms wasn’t enough for her, so her hands traveled over his shoulders and gripped the back of his neck. His tongue met with hers and slid against it slowly. So achingly slow were his movements as his hands left the shelves and fell on her hips.

Hair fell away from his bun as she dug her fingers into his scalp. Chest to chest, they stood interlocked, arms wrapped around each other. Her breasts strained against the hard muscles of his torso, pushing with insistence. He dipped his head and gently pulled her bottom lip between his teeth. Victoria wanted more and she wanted it now. She almost didn’t hear the moans coming from her. She hadn’t moaned like that in a long time. Waves crashed against her beach and she hadn’t battened down the hatch for this incoming storm. A single kiss had wet the juncture at her thighs and sent her swaying from its pleasure. When John’s mouth tore away from hers, his lips traveled down her jaw and found their way to her neck. He sucked and nibbled at the sensitive skin at her pulse. “Johnny,” she breathed.

He let out a choked moan in response and licked her collarbone. “Victoria,” he whispered as he nuzzled her neck. A flat tongue lathed against her hot skin before suctioning it with a satisfying pop. That’s going to leave a mark.

“Mr. Donovan, you’ve got a call on line one,” Martha announced on the loud speaker. “Mr. Donovan, call on line one.”

Victoria’s eyes sprang open and she pushed him away. “Oh my god,” she said. Her questions and concerns quickly came back, shoving away pleasure and impulsivity.

John stepped back, chest heaving and his shoulder length hair disheveled, his lips stained red with her lipstick. “Sorry,” he breathed.