Page 121 of Meant for Mayhem

And fuck, if that wasn’t exactly what she’d been doing with me.

She’d let me touch her when it felt temporary. When it could still be written off as adrenaline or proximity or the strange, convenient arrangement we’d made. But the second it mattered—when it stopped being casual and started being real—she put me back on the shelf the same way she did these books. Not because she didn’t want me. Because she did. Because wanting something this much was dangerous, and Shannon had spent her whole life learning how to walk away from dangerous things before they could cost her.

There was no adrenaline left to blame tonight. No forced proximity. No convenient excuse. Just the two of us standing in an empty bookstore, recklessly, heedlessly drawn to each other, and she was still trying to put the wanting back where it belonged.

But I was done sitting on the shelf.

This did matter, and it wasn’t casual.

It was real.

“Pick one for me.”

She looked over. “What?”

“A book.” I stepped beside her, close enough that my sleeve brushed her arm. “Your favorite one.”

One eyebrow lifted. “You’ll read whatever I pick?”

“If you recommend it, then yes.”

The smile she gave me then was dangerous. Every part of me wanted to close the last few inches, pull her against my chest, and find out what that smile tasted like. My hands stayed in my pockets by sheer force of will. The tension that had been simmering since dinner was no longer simmering. It was boiling, thick and inevitable, and I could see the same awareness in her eyes when she glanced at my mouth before looking away.

Shannon turned back toward the romance section, tapping her chin with a finger. “This feels like a trap. If I pick something terrible, you’ll never let me live it down.”

“I trust you.”

She looked at me over her shoulder. The glance lasted a beat too long. “Then I guess I shouldn’t go with the why choose mafia romance.”

A quiet laugh escaped me as she disappeared between the shelves. This time she moved slower, pulling books free instead of putting them back. Every few minutes she’d glance toward me, only to catch me staring. The air between the stacks felt charged, like the moment right before a fight drops or a kiss lands—something inevitable and irreversible.

Finally, she returned, holding a paperback against her chest.

“Okay.” She held it out. “This one.”

I looked down at the illustrated cover. Two people stood back-to-back, glaring at each other with enough chemistry that even I could see where the story was headed. When I lifted my eyes to hers again, the same chemistry was standing right in front of me, close enough to touch, and neither of us was stepping back.

The corner of her mouth lifted. "You said anything."

"I did."

"No complaining halfway through."

"I won't."

She studied me for another second, waiting for me to back out. When I didn't, she handed me the book.

"Good." Her smile softened. "You're going to love it."

I turned back toward the fantasy section she’d walked through multiple times. “My turn now.”

“For what?”

Rows of dark book covers with different scrolling text sat in front of me, but I passed them all and went back to the glass case at the end of the aisle Shannon kept glancing at. Inside was a special edition set of an older fantasy series I’d read before, full of dragons and magic and lore. They weren’t brand new, the hardbacks showing age on the corners, but the gold foil text and details were stunning.

“That one.” I pointed at it, waiting until Shannon followed my gaze.

“Have you read that one?” she asked, her voice sounding a little breathless.