<b>Chapter </b><b>83 </b>
-HUNTER-
Thadn’t meant to follow her.
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After dinner, I had nned to lock myself in my study and review the quarterly reports that had been sitting on my desk for three days.
But then I had seen her slip quietly down the hallway toward the library, and my feet had betrayed my better judgment.
The library was my sanctuary. Floor–to–ceiling mahogany shelves, leather–bound first editions, and windows that overlooked the gardens.
It was where I came to think, to escape, to remember who I was beneath the expectations and responsibilities.
But now, watching Celine reach for the top shelf while bnced precariously on the old woodendder, I realized it had be something else entirely.
She was humming softly to herself…some tune I didn’t recognize…as she worked her feather duster along the spines of books touched in decades.
Thete evening light filtered through the tall windows, turning her chestnut hair to gold where it escaped from her messy bu
She was wearing that simple ck dress again, the one that somehow managed to be both modest and devastating.
probably hadn’t been
It hugged her curves in ways that made my mouth dry, especially from this angle, looking up at her as she stretched to reach the highest shelves.
I should leave. Walk away. Pretend I had never seen her here, never noticed how her ankles looked so delicate above those sensible ts, never watched the way she bit her lower lip in concentration.
Instead, I moved closer.
Thedder creaked under her weight as she leaned further to the right, and my heart nearly stopped as it wobbled.
“Careful,” I said quietly, reaching out to steady the base.
She gasped and nearly dropped her duster, spinning to look down at me with wide brown eyes. “Hunter! I didn’t hear youe in.”
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you.” My hands gripped thedder’s sides, and I was acutely aware of how close I was to her legs.
“This thing is older than both of usbined. I should have reced it years ago.”
“It’s fine,” she said breathlessly. “I’m almost done up here.”
But she didn’t move toe down. We stayed frozen like that–her perched above me, me looking up at her like she was some goddess who had descended from the literary heavens.
“What are you reading these days?” she asked, her voice softer than usual in the hushed atmosphere of the library.
I nced at the shelf she’d been dusting. “Mostly financial reports and legal documents. Nothing as interesting as…” I tilted my head to read the spine of
the book nearest to her.
“The Complete Works of Lord Byron.”
“Byron was a scandal in his time,” she said with a small smile. “All that passionate poetry and romantic drama.”
“Sounds exhausting.”
Sheughed, and the sound made something warm unfurl in my chest. “You would say that. You probably prefer your emotions <b>filed </b><b>alphabetically </b><b>and </b>
color–coded
16:47 Sat, 2 Aug.
“Hey,” I protested, though I was fighting a smile. “I have emotions. They’re just very well organized.”
“Mmm.” She pretended to consider this seriously. “And where exactly do you file ‘attraction to the help‘?”
The question caught me off guard. She was looking down at me with mischief dancing in her eyes, and I realized she was flirting with me.
Actually flirting.
“Under ‘Complications,” I said honestly. “Cross–referenced with ‘Things That Could Ruin Everything.””
Her smile faltered slightly. “Oh.”
“Buttely,” I continued, my voice dropping lower, “I’ve been thinking about starting a new filing system.”
“What kind of system?”
“One where I stop caring about proper protocol and start caring about what I actually want.”
The air between us shifted and became charged with something electric and dangerous. Celine’s grip tightened on thec fluttering at the base of her throat.
“And what do you want?” she whispered.
The honest answer would have terrified us both. So instead, I said, “Come down from there before you fall.”
could see her pulse
She hesitated for a moment, then began her descent. As she reached the third rung from the bottom, she missed her footing slightly, and instinctively, my hands moved to her waist to steady her.
The moment my palms made contact with the soft curve of her hips, we both froze.
She was still a step above me, which put us nearly at eye level. This close, I could see the flecks of gold in her brown eyes and could smell that slight vani scent she always carried.
Her lips were slightly parted, and I found myself cataloging every detail of her face like I was trying to memorize it.
“Hunter,” she breathed.
“I know,” I said quietly. “I know this is a bad idea.”
“Terrible idea,” she agreed, but she didn’t pull away.
“The worst.”
Her hands had somehow found their way to my shoulders, and I could feel the warmth of her palms through my shirt. “We should stop.”
“Absolutely.” But even as I said it, my thumbs traced small circles against her sides, and I felt her shiver in response.
“Someone could walk in,” she whispered.
“Caroline’s at her book club. Mother’s at her bridge game. The staff doesn’te in here after dinner.” The words came out rough like I was convincing myself as much as her.
“So we’re alone.”
“Completely alone.”
<b>For </b>a heartbeat neither of us moved. Thery Celine’s fingers curled into my shirt, and whatever restraint I’d been clinging <b>to </b><b>snapped</b><b>. </b>
I lifted her d
edder and backed her against the bookshelf in one smooth <b>motion</b><b>, </b><b>my </b>body <b>caging </b><b>her </b>between the <b>mahogany </b><b>and </b><b>my </b><b>chest</b>.
<b>2/5 </b>
10.47. <b>Dal</b>, 2 Aug
Her eyes widened, but she didn’t protest. If anything, her grip on my shirt tightened.
“Tell me to stop,” I said roughly, my forehead resting against hers.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “I’ve been wanting this week.”
The confession undid mepletely.
I kissed her.
62%
Not the gentle, testing kiss I had nned, but something desperate and hungry that spoke of weeks of suppressed longing.
Her lips were soft and warm, and when she kissed me back with equal fervor, I felt something fundamental shift inside my chest.
My hands tangled in her hair, destroying what was left of her careful bun, and she made a small sound of pleasure that nearly brought me to my knees.
Her fingers worked at the buttons of my shirt with an urgency that matched my own, and when her palms finally made contact with my chest, I groaned against her mouth.
“God, Celine,” I murmured, trailing kisses along her jaw, down the column of her throat. She tasted like honey and promises
ted to devour her.
Her head fell back against the books, exposing the graceful line of her neck, and I took shameless advantage, pressing open–mouthed kisses to her pulse point until she was trembling in my arms.
“Hunter, please,” she gasped, and I wasn’t sure if she was asking me to stop or continue, but the sound of my name on her lips in that breathy tone made desire pool hot and heavy in my stomach.
My hands mapped the curves of her body through the thin fabric of her dress….the dip of her waist, the re of her hips, the soft swell of her breasts.
When my thumb brushed across her nipple through the cotton, she arched into me with a soft cry that I swallowed with another kiss.
“You’re so beautiful,” I whispered against her lips. “So perfect. Do you have any idea what you do to me?”
She answered by pulling my head down for another kiss, this one deeper, more demanding. Her tongue danced with mine, and I pressed closer, letting her feel exactly what she was doing to me.
The books behind her back shifted slightly under ourbined weight, and somewhere in the logical part of my brain, I registered that we needed to slow down before we brought the entire shelf crashing down around us.
But then Celine’s leg wrapped around my hip, pulling me impossibly closer, and rational thought became impossible.
My hand slid down to grip her thigh, holding her against me as I rocked forward slightly. The sh drew matching groans from both of us, and her fingers dug into my shoulders hard enough to leave marks.
“We should…” I started, but the words died when she nipped at my lower lip with her teeth.
“Should what?” she challenged breathlessly.
“Move somewhere morefortable,” I managed. “My room. Your room.
. Anywhere with an actual bed.”
For a moment, I thought she would agree. Her eyes were dark with desire, her chest rising and falling rapidly, and I could feel the rapid beat of her heart against mine.
Then reality seemed to crash back over her like cold water.
“Oh god,” she whispered, her hands suddenly pushing against my chest. “What are we doing?<b>” </b>
<b>I </b>stepped back immediately, giving her space, though every instinct I had screamed in protest. “Celine…”
16:47 Sat, <b>2 </b>Aug 0
“This is crazy,” she said, running shaky hands through her mussed hair. “I work for you. Your mother would have a heart attack. Caroline would…”
“Caroline would throw a party,” I said quietly. “She’s been telling me for weeks that I should…”
“Should what?”
I looked at her… really looked at her. Her lips were swollen from my kisses, her hair wild, and her dress wrinkled.
She looked thoroughly lustful and gorgeous, and I wanted nothing more than to pull her back into my arms and finish what we’d started.
But I could see the panic building in her eyes, the way she was already pulling back into herself.
“Should be honest about how I feel,” I said simply.
She stared at me for a long moment. “And how do you feel?”
62%
The question hung between us, loaded with possibility and danger. I could lie, deflect, and make some jokes to ease the tension. It would be the safe choice, the smart choice.
Instead, I chose honesty.
“Like you make me want to read poetry I don’t understand,” I said softly. “Just to hear youugh when I butcher the verses.” <fn8187> Content originallyes from fin?novel</fn8187>
Her expression softened, and for a moment, I thought I’d said the right thing.
Then footsteps echoed in the hallway outside, and we both froze.
“Mr. Hunter?” called Sally’s voice from somewhere near the front entrance. “There’s a phone call for you. Says it’s urgent.”
Reality crashed back with all the subtlety of a freight train.
Celine quickly began smoothing her hair and dress, while I hastily rebuttoned my shirt and tried to look like I hadn’t just been thoroughly wrecked by the woman I employed.
“Coming,” I called back, my voice only slightly strained.
When I looked at Celine again, she was back to being theposed, professional woman who’d walked into my library an hour ago.
Only the remaining flush on her cheeks and the slightly swollen státe of her lips gave away what had just happened between us.
“This doesn’t change anything,” she said quietly, but her voicecked conviction.
I stepped closer, close enough to touch but careful not to. “Doesn’t it?”
She looked up at me with those expressive brown eyes, and I could see the war raging behind them…desire to fight with practicality, want to battle with
fear.
“Hunter…”
“Think about it,” I said softly. “Think about us.”
Then I forced myself to walk away, leaving her alone among the books and the ghosts of what we’d almost done.
But as I headed toward the phone call that would probably require me to fly to London or Tokyo or somewhere equally far from her, I knew one <b>thing </b><b>for </b>
certain:
Everything had changed.
And ther
ack.
16:47 <b>Sat</b>, <b>2 </b>Aug ? ▼ D
<b>Chapter </b><b>84 </b>
CELINE-