kiss.
I finally stopped breathing altogether when he snaked a line of kisses across my cheekbone to the skin just behind my ear, the heat from his lips scorching the sensitive skin. I reached for him, only to have him grab my wrist gently and slide it above my head, out of reach. I took his other hand and held it to my hip for only a second before his mouth met mine again, his free hand sliding up the hem of my tank top to rest on my ribcage.
“Javier,” I whispered suddenly, not just because we were in a library but because I couldn’t find the strength to stand up, let alone speak. “I think I heard the elevator.”
He froze in place for just a second before he quickly slid my shirt back down and pulled me up to stand next to him. A co-worker stumbled coming off the elevator, lugging a black metal book cart behind him across the groove separating the elevator from the floor, almost falling down when it finally rolled across and sending a few titles thudding loudly to the floor. Javier reached for the stack of books on my desk and I quickly grabbed the pencil that we had accidentally knocked to the floor. Other than a twig of hair that had pulled loose from my ponytail, nothing was out of place.
It was all I could do to finish the research. Paper? What history paper? Oh, that paper. Every time Javier re-appeared with another book, I wanted to throw him on the floor and finish what we had started. And every time a delicious image of making out with him in the library basement flooded my brain, I was reminded that we weren’t alone by the dull clang of another musty old book being returned to its rightful place on the metal shelves.
Javier stole glances at me as he gathered and replaced the books, which was almost hotter than the intensity of our pre-interrupted kiss. I caught him watching me from between the shelves more than once and was on the verge of asking the book stacker politely if he could leave for about thirty minutes before I dismissed that idea as probably being a great way to get banned for life from the library. I had to get out of there before I did something truly embarrassing to both me and my family name.
“I think I’m done here,” I said quietly, pointing to my neat stack of copies that Javier had made. “Are you still hungry?”
“More than I was before, even,” he said, hinting with his eyes at what he meant. I bit my lip and looked over at the direction where I had last seen the employee with the cart, then shook my head slightly. Javier smiled his most wicked grin, but took my hand and led me to the elevator.
We pulled through a fast food drive-thru and took our sacks to the park overlooking the campus. One of the perks of a really old Southern school was an almost-maniacal need to manicure the lawns, so the grass was incredibly lush and even a little too green. We found spots on the ground and began eating greasy fries and hours-old burgers.
“See? Now you can experience the food of my people,” I said, rolling my eyes at the limp hamburger and waving a flopped-over french fry in his direction.
He laughed, but shot me a cringing expression before saying, “No, it is good because it is different. I don’t think it is good to eat too many times though.”
“Oh, like aji peppers are good for you? I thought I was going to choke! Food that spicy will kill you!”
“No, my grandmother is seventy-eight, and her mother is ninety-one. We live a long time on peppers!” He held up an arm and flexed a muscle, pretending to demonstrate how his native food builds strength. All I saw was a ripped bicep and the hint of solid strength beneath the fabric of his shirt as it pulled tightly across
I finally stopped breathing altogether when he snaked a line of kisses across my cheekbone to the skin just behind my ear, the heat from his lips scorching the sensitive skin. I reached for him, only to have him grab my wrist gently and slide it above my head, out of reach. I took his other hand and held it to my hip for only a second before his mouth met mine again, his free hand sliding up the hem of my tank top to rest on my ribcage.
“Javier,” I whispered suddenly, not just because we were in a library but because I couldn’t find the strength to stand up, let alone speak. “I think I heard the elevator.”
He froze in place for just a second before he quickly slid my shirt back down and pulled me up to stand next to him. A co-worker stumbled coming off the elevator, lugging a black metal book cart behind him across the groove separating the elevator from the floor, almost falling down when it finally rolled across and sending a few titles thudding loudly to the floor. Javier reached for the stack of books on my desk and I quickly grabbed the pencil that we had accidentally knocked to the floor. Other than a twig of hair that had pulled loose from my ponytail, nothing was out of place.
It was all I could do to finish the research. Paper? What history paper? Oh, that paper. Every time Javier re-appeared with another book, I wanted to throw him on the floor and finish what we had started. And every time a delicious image of making out with him in the library basement flooded my brain, I was reminded that we weren’t alone by the dull clang of another musty old book being returned to its rightful place on the metal shelves.
Javier stole glances at me as he gathered and replaced the books, which was almost hotter than the intensity of our pre-interrupted kiss. I caught him watching me from between the shelves more than once and was on the verge of asking the book stacker politely if he could leave for about thirty minutes before I dismissed that idea as probably being a great way to get banned for life from the library. I had to get out of there before I did something truly embarrassing to both me and my family name.
“I think I’m done here,” I said quietly, pointing to my neat stack of copies that Javier had made. “Are you still hungry?”
“More than I was before, even,” he said, hinting with his eyes at what he meant. I bit my lip and looked over at the direction where I had last seen the employee with the cart, then shook my head slightly. Javier smiled his most wicked grin, but took my hand and led me to the elevator.
We pulled through a fast food drive-thru and took our sacks to the park overlooking the campus. One of the perks of a really old Southern school was an almost-maniacal need to manicure the lawns, so the grass was incredibly lush and even a little too green. We found spots on the ground and began eating greasy fries and hours-old burgers.
“See? Now you can experience the food of my people,” I said, rolling my eyes at the limp hamburger and waving a flopped-over french fry in his direction.
He laughed, but shot me a cringing expression before saying, “No, it is good because it is different. I don’t think it is good to eat too many times though.”
“Oh, like aji peppers are good for you? I thought I was going to choke! Food that spicy will kill you!”
“No, my grandmother is seventy-eight, and her mother is ninety-one. We live a long time on peppers!” He held up an arm and flexed a muscle, pretending to demonstrate how his native food builds strength. All I saw was a ripped bicep and the hint of solid strength beneath the fabric of his shirt as it pulled tightly across
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