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There’s nowhere else I’d rather be at ten o’clock on a Friday night. It helps, of course, that I’m getting paid to do nothing.
I also love getting paid to do nothing
“I’m in the honors English program. If anything, I’m overqualified.” “Great,” Vincent says, unmoved. “Lead the way.” “Unfortunately, leaving this desk to help cranky kids with their homework isn’t in my job description.”
This is what I get for reading smut on the job.
“So,” he says, “Thursdays and Sundays, you party.” “Yep.” “And on Fridays, you sit behind that front desk reading porn.”
I stare at him. He stares back. And then, just once—so quick I could blink and miss it—Vincent’s self-assured gaze flickers to my mouth. “Prove it.”
“Then practice on me,” he offers. “I’m here. I’m all yours.”
Page 23 is a little early for this
“Fuck,” Vincent says against my cheek. “You’re gonna kill me, Professor.”
“Seems unfair that you know my name and I don’t know yours,” he murmurs.
His tounge was literally just in her mouth....
“It’s not like he could just give a librarian a note that says, Had fun kissing you up against a bookshelf last week, I’d really like to put my penis in you now. What if she read it before it got to Kendall? This”—she taps the note—“is definitely code.”
“How’s the book, Holiday?”
“What do you need help with? That’s why we’re here, isn’t it? Because you’re bad with your words.”
“Maybe I can tutor you sometime,” he offers. “You know, in exchange.”
there a reason you’re giving me your résumé?” I interrupt. “I’m trying to prove a point, Holiday.” Vincent shrugs. “Seems like you have pretty high expectations for your love interests.
“I fucking hate Shakespeare,” I admit. Vincent smiles. “I knew there was a reason I liked you.”
I keep nodding. “Cool, cool, cool.” “You look pale as fuck,” Harper says. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna throw up,” I croak.
Vincent frowns. “Which note are we talking about?” “The note.” “No, I mean—the first one or the second one?”
“Your hair is so soft,” I grumble. “Do you really not use conditioner?” “You looked through my shower?” “Of course I did. I warned you I would.”
“Dirty talk has never done it for me, but you and your damned poetry . . .”
