Fever 4 by Kristi

Author:Kristi [Kristi]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2011-07-21T17:45:04+00:00

The main room is about eighty feet long by sixty feet wide and vaults five stories to a muraled ceiling. On the second, third, fourth, and fifth floors, bookcases line each wall from base to cove molding. Behind elegant banisters, catwalks permit access, while ladders slide on oiled rollers from one section to the next.

But it‘s the first floor I spend so much time on, with its freestanding bookcases crammed with all the latest, greatest reads standing tall on polished wood floors scattered with plush rugs. Two seating cozies, fore and aft, boast opulent yet comfy chesterfield sofas and brocaded chairs topped by soft throws, centered around my beloved respite from the Dublin rain and cold—fancy enameled gas fireplaces.

I glanced at my well-stocked magazine rack (sadly out of date) and my cashier‘s counter. I smiled at the old-fashioned register with the tiny silver bell that tinkled whenever the drawer popped open.

I moved to the counter.

A note was propped on the register.

Welcome home, Ms. Lane.

―Arrogant, overconfident jackass.‖ Keys lay on the counter beside it.

I wondered what car he‘d left me this time. I was reaching for the keys when, out of the blue, emotions bombarded me, intense and confusing. They were accompanied by a barrage of memories: the day I‘d stumbled into this place, my anxiety at being lost, meeting Barrons for the first time, my naïve conviction that he was exactly the kind of man I would never date.

―And we haven’t dated.‖ I crushed the note in my fist. Just had completely uninhibited raw sex.

Months of it.

I closed my eyes, more memories of this place crashing over me: the night I‘d seen the Gray Man devour a woman‘s beauty and had rushed here for answers, with no idea what was wrong with me but already suspecting it was permanent; the night I‘d accepted his offer of a fourth-floor bedroom overlooking the back alley and moved in; the day my daddy had come looking for me and I‘d realized I could never go home to Ashford until the madness in Dublin was over and I‘d either succeeded or didn‘t care because I‘d be going home the same way as Alina, in a box; the night I‘d given Barrons a birthday cake, then eaten it alone, after it had splatted from the ceiling.

I inhaled his scent. He was near, a few feet away. Lust nearly buckled my knees. He was a tireless lover. There was nothing off-limits with him.

―Ms. Lane.‖

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