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“Come here.” My commanding tone is one reserved for my men when they piss me off, but she needs a dominant hand right now.

Gracefully, she accepts my extended hand. I pull her between my legs and place my palms on the outside of her thighs, hating how tiny she is but also loving how delicate she feels in my grip. Even sitting, I’m still taller than her; the top of her head rests at my nose. Inhaling her unique scent deep in my lungs is euphoric.

“I don’t want you to be afraid of me, Hester.” Her emerald eyes soar up to meet mine. “I want you to think of me as home. I want to be your safe place.” Mesmerized, she gives me the most imperceptible bob of her head. Not sure if she’s agreeing with me or already feels that way; either way, she knows what I want now. “I have a million things I’d like to know about you, but I want it to be at your pace, though I also need you to understand my craving for you is intense. Far more than anything I’ve felt in my entire life. There’s a desperation inside me to mark you as mine, and being completely frank, I don’t know how long the caveman in me will wait.”

Her eyes widen, and her jaw drops again.

I wish she’d speak more. Tell me all the things running through her brilliant mind.

Brushing a finger along her jawline, I lean down and whisper against her lips, “Don’t make me wait too long, pretty girl.” Christ, does she hear the desperation in my tone?

CHAPTER 10

Hester

Chelsea has been staring at me for the last ten minutes, impatiently tapping her nails on the counter, while I’ve done my best to ignore her by scanning books back into the system to reshelve them to be borrowed again.

“You’re going to make me ask?” she sighs dramatically. Looking up at her, I become dizzy with how rapidly the burn of my blush rises. “Did you have sex?” she whispers as two women walk past the front desk.

“N-n-n-o.” My heart thunders as I think about what Cato did do to me, the way he demanded I call him Daddy.

“But you did do something.” She snickers as I turn away, chewing on my bottom lip. “He is so perfect for you, H. That man is very obviously obsessed with you.”

“D-d-o y-y-you think?” This damn stutter. Just one time, I’d like to have a normal conversation with another adult. Just once.

Dropping her feet to the ground, Chelsea stands and comes around the cart, getting in my space as she grabs my cheeks. It’s a little startling but not surprising. “Hester, you’d have to be blind not to see the way he was looking at you. That man wanted to eat you from head to toe and back again.”

Sort of feels like he already did that to me.

“Okay,” I breathe out. I’d be foolish to keep arguing with her. It’s just so hard to accept that someone could be interested in me because of my upbringing. No one ever wanted me as a child, and the scars still linger to this day.

The day passes slowly as a storm rolls in mid-afternoon, and I wonder if I’ll see Cato tonight. He never said anything when he dropped me off, and I hadn’t asked, that same old fear of rejection keeping me silent.

“Excuse me, Miss?” I turn and smile at the woman with two small children. “I’m looking for this book and wondered if you had it available?” She shows me an image of a popular children’s picture book on her phone.

It’s not the first time I’ve been asked. “N-n-ot y-y-yet.” Frustrated, I grind my teeth and inhale deeply before releasing it slowly and focusing on speaking clearly. “We have or-or-ordered s-some. Th-th-they’ll b-b-be here on We-we-wednesd-d-day.”

She smiles sympathetically but doesn’t comment, and I appreciate that. “We’ll be here then!”

Hating myself, I force out, “I c-c-can s-set one aside for you.” Mortified, I bite the inside of my cheek after rushing out every word so fast they probably made no sense.

“That would be so lovely, please do.”

After jotting down her name, they leave, and I want to puke, but I push the cart of books to the next aisle and start putting them back on shelves, fixing the ones people have picked up and placed back randomly.

Once that row is settled and I notice we aren’t too busy, I head back to the reception area to drop off the cart and make myself a warm tea as a thunderclap rattles the building, making the lights flicker in and out a couple of times before returning to normal.

Thunderstorms have always given me the creeps. The dark clouds, the noise, the heavy rain. The turbulence of change is just too much for me to process, and today, it feels ominous, like trouble’s coming, and I’m not sure why.

“Hey, girl, I’m just going to run next door to grab a double vanilla latte and a lemon cake. You want anything?”

I hold up my cup, and she shakes her head, then heads out.

All alone in a library is my dream come true. It could only be better if it were a home library. Which makes me wonder if Cato has one. Scarlett has a voracious love of reading, and his home is large enough to make it possible.

Pouring water into my thermal cup, I let the light music keep me company as I stir in the tea bag, then add a dollop of cream and a small spoonful of sugar. I cap the lid, clean up my mess, and go back out front, stopping short when two men enter. One looks a little worse for wear, with bruising and swelling all over his face. His arm is in a sling, and from how he holds his side, I suspect he might have rib injuries as well.

“H-h-h-hello, h-h-h-how c-c-c-can I help you?” I sound like a record skipping over a scratch.