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Yes. I definitely have a crush on him. If he were on one of my dating apps, I’d swipe right so fast my finger might break.
Is he flirting with me after insulting my book choice? “Um … what exactly did you find so repetitive about it?” I might be a little protective of my favorite author.
“Moving on.” I force myself to stop glaring at Mr. Shits All Over My Favorite Book.
“Like you think they don’t have good taste in books. When, after tonight, I think you’re the one who doesn’t know a good story when it’s right in front of your face.”
“It’s just an opinion about a book. I’m not judging anyone. Diversity is beautiful. If everyone had the same taste, life would be boring.”
He’s so … Ugh! I don’t know. Why does he have to wear cute shirts and say profound things that make it hard to stay mad at him? He’s supposed to be the last good guy. I think I need him to be that guy.
He has an innocent arrogance. An oxymoron? Probably, but it’s the best label.
“Nah. Pretty is a timeless compliment. Cute as a bug’s ear is a little dated. ‘The brightness of her cheek would shame those stars …’ if you’re into Shakespearean compliments. Or are you partial to the eighteenth century? ‘Sweet lady, your virtues have so strangely taken up my thoughts, that therein they encrease and multiply in abundant felicity.’”
Eric’s quoting Shakespeare and eighteenth-century pick-up lines? Be still, my beating heart.
I playfully lean into him and quickly right myself because he’s a slippery guy. I can’t fall for his charm when I know he has such poor taste in books.
“Yes. Books are life,”
“Books aren’t life. People use them to escape life, learn things that will help them achieve success, or find new ways to cope with life. Life is what happens outside the bound story. Life isn’t the letters on the page; it’s what inspires those words.”
That stupid smirk. Gah! I hate it and love it in equal parts. I love a good debate about anything except my favorite book.
“You’re cute when you’re mad.” He taps the toe of my sneaker with his before sipping his coffee.
Gah! The little things he does are cute
“Fine. Let’s go with fuckable again. You look fuckable when you’re mad.”
He’s insulted my favorite book. And books are my friends, so I must defend my friend. “You’re crude and … and …” Dammit! I’ve got nothing! “A real chivalrous gentleman would have offered to pay for my coffee. And stop looking at me like that!”
Anna, Thanks for hosting the book club. It was the most donnish experience I have enjoyed in a long time. Think of this as a hostess gift. Regards, Eric
“He’s obnoxious.” And sweet. And funny. And sexy.
“No. You don’t get to be pouty because he was critical of your book pick. He’s one person. Everyone hated my book pick, and you didn’t see me unfriending anyone because of it. I think you’re pissed because you’re attracted to him. And now that he doesn’t share
“Don’t be embarrassed. If you took off your shirt, I’d overheat too.”
He saunters toward me, backing me into the corner of the room. “Mating dance?”
“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the day we met.”
“We were destined to reach this moment. The flirty glances, the sexual banter, the coffee date, you and your not-so-subtle nudging me, and my mating dance.”
Laughter spills from deep in my chest. I can no longer hold it together. “Go. Home! You’re an idiot. The opposite of sexy is a man saying the words ‘mating dance’ unless he’s narrating
Eric lowers his voice. “The skittish female Homo sapiens’ face flushes as she drops her chin to disguise her attraction to the rather well-endowed male as he makes his advance. She’s stubborn but not immune to his mating dance. It’s only a matter of time before he imparts his scent onto her, marking her for life.”
🤣
I shut the door behind me, mouth agape at the trail of flower petals in a rainbow of colors, starting at my door and leading to the stairway. A few areas are scattered; probably other residents have traipsed through the trail. I follow it to the stairs, lobby, out the door, and straight across the street to the pizza place.
For one second, can we discuss the bouquet of stems on the table? Petal-less flowers. If he’s going for original, he’s beaten every other guy in the field. “You have a mess to clean up,” I say while keeping a straight face even though it’s hard to do around Eric.
Eric Steinmann isn’t anything I’ll be able to quit without therapy.
“When you’re not insulting my favorite book, you’re rather charming and sexy.”
“Anna Banana … our neighbor heard you last night,” Eric says.
The nerve!
Men like Eric should come with a warning because he’s relentlessly … everything. Relentlessly sexy.
“Next, I planned on letting you read to me while my tongue explored …”
🤭🔥
“Good morning, Anna Black.” He grins a second before kissing me. His confidence is its own entity.
need therapy. Therapy for obsessing over a book. Therapy for having no control over my attraction to the wrong guy. Therapy for my flawed personality that’s gotten me into this pray-the-STD-away jam I’m in.
It’s tough to fall in love with something and feel judged for that love. Books possess power. They are no more ink and paper than humans are flesh and bones. Humans have souls
💕
I guess I’m a romantic for books. When someone shares my love of a story, it reaches deeper than a kiss, and it’s a bond that can’t be broken.
Either books are ruining me for men, or men are ruining me for books. Well, just one man … and one book.
The human brain is terrible. Thoughts are the worst poison. I’m fucking toxic to myself, and I can’t stop it. Eric’s gaze tracks
I have no direction in my life because this woman is the sunrise for which I wait in the dark to chase after every long night.
“What’s that saying about hiding treasures in plain sight and no one will find them? That’s those damn books. Men have been trying to figure out women since the beginning of time, and women decided to hide their secrets in the very books that make us roll our eyes at them when they read them.”
“Kiss me.” She grins. “Call me your baby.” She kisses my neck. “And tell me I’m pretty. It’s all I need.”
“Baby, we can’t die at the end. Romance readers are too fickle. They need their HEA.”
