Page 122 of Meant for Mayhem

“The whole series, yes. Have you?”

She walked closer to the display. “The price tag isn’t even on it. What if it’s not for sale?”

“What have we learned about asking nicely for things?” I kissed her temple, then walked across the store to find the bookseller behind the counter.

After a brief discussion, she followed me back upstairs to the display where Shannon still stood, biting the tips of her black nails.

“Oh, I love this one,” the clerk said. “You have great taste.”

Shannon’s eyes found mine as the clerk removed not just book one, but all of them, and the series below it that was the spin-off as well.

“It’s too much,” she whispered, eyes brimming with tears. “I don’t need this.”

“But do you want it?”

She hesitated a moment, then gave me the smallest nod.

“Thank you.”

This time, I pulled her into my chest, putting my hands on her hips. She rested hers on my chest, looking up at me.

“Someday I hope you realize that I’d give you anything you ever wanted, even when you’re too afraid to ask.”

Those grey eyes bounced between mine, blinking away tears.

“You’re too good for me.”

I shook my head, then leaned down and kissed her. It was sweeter than all the kisses we’d shared before. “I’m barely good enough.”

We left the bookstore a little while later after she’d insisted I cheated and had chosen what she wanted, not what I would have chosen for her. That led to a quick trip down the mystery aisle where I’d stolen another kiss, then excitedly explained the plot of my own favorite novel.

The drive home was quiet, but it wasn’t the awkward kind that you had the itch to fill. It was comfortable, easy even, with Shannon's hand in mine, and the bookstore bags tucked safely in the backseat.

Logan was waiting when we walked through the front door, half-asleep on the couch with the baby monitor balanced on his stomach. He gave Shannon a quick hug, wished her a happy birthday, then disappeared toward the elevator.

The apartment settled into silence behind him.

Leena was asleep.

The fire crackled softly in the living room.

Shannon carried the bookstore bag toward the couch, then dropped into her favorite spot, kicking off her shoes. She reached into the bag, pulling out my romance and her mystery.

“Ready?”

I untucked my shirt and rolled up the sleeves, then took the spot next to her and grabbed my glasses from the coffee table.

“As I’ll ever be.”

Reading together was something Shannon and I did most nights, so this shouldn’t have been any different. Except by the third chapter, I realized this wasn’t my typical book.

My eyes flew over the page, reading faster than I usually did. The opening scene hit like a slap shot to the chest—raw, immediate, and filthy in the best way. A stranger’s hands sliding up a woman’s thighs in a dimly lit hotel room, her back arching off the bed as he dropped to his knees and tasted her like he was starving for it.

The writing was sharp, confident, and unapologetic. Heat crawled up my neck the longer I read. I shifted on the couch, trying to adjust without being obvious, but my body was reacting and I wouldn’t be able to hide for long.

By the time the hero had the female main character bent over the balcony railing, the city lights glittering below while he took her hard from behind, I was half-hard and uncomfortably aware of every breath Shannon took beside me.

I glanced up, only to find she wasn’t reading at all.