The library was closing up, the kind of quiet that pressed into your skin and made every breath feel heavy, loaded with anticipation. Emma was alone, except for the low hum of the heating system and the occasional creak of old floorboards under her feet. She adjusted her glasses, but the thin frames did nothing to mask the way her pulse hammered against her temples.
Her phone buzzed—Lily’s name flashing on the screen with a single message: Dad’s stopping by. Heads up.
Emma’s stomach clenched, heat pooling low and sharp. Mark—her best friend’s dad—was everything she wasn’t supposed to want. Older, rougher, with a body carved like a goddamn statue and eyes that could burn through steel. He smelled like leather and whiskey, the kind of scent that made her toes curl and her panties damp befo
