Screwed Into Forever [Forbidden Collection]
I sank into the worn velvet armchair tucked between the stacks, the one customers sometimes used to read a chapter before buying.
I opened the book. The first story was about a librarian and a stranger who came in after hours.
I laughed under my breath. Too on the nose.
But I kept reading.
The words were lush, explicit. The stranger’s hands on her thighs, the way he whispered commands against her ear, the slow build of tension until she begged.
My pulse quickened. Heat pooled low in my belly.
I glanced around—the shop was empty, windows dark, street noise muffled by snow. I was alone.