Page 151 of Problematic

“Obviously.” He smirked. “I’m a criminal, not a monster.”

I wiped under one eye and turned back to the shelves, because eye contact with a mask somehow felt worse than eye contact with a book.

I pointed at the rolling ladder. “Does that thing work?”

His voice warmed. “Yes.”

“I want to try it.”

“I assumed.”

“You assumed correctly.”

He pulled the ladder along the brass rail and locked it into place. The soft rumble of wheels across metal sent a little shiver straight through my ribs. Then he offered me one bare hand, scarred knuckles up, palm open. Every note, every rose, every terrible, thoughtful thing he had ever done for me lived in that hand.

I bit back a smile and put my hand in his. His warmth swallowed my fingers. I climbed until I reached the third rail, eye-level with hardcovers I had only ever seen through my phone screen. He stood at the bottom, head tipped up, mask hiding everything except the intensity of him.

“You like it,” he said.

“I love it,” I whispered.

I stared at the silver lines in the rug because the mask had become too much. “I don’t know how to accept this.”

“Just pick a book.”

“You bring me to your secret murder penthouse, reveal a dream library, hand me a black card, and now you want me to pick a book?”

“I’m trying courtship without breaking the law. Work with me.”

I pressed my lips together, holding back another laugh, and failed. “Fine.”

My gaze landed on a paperback with a black spine and red lettering. The same series he had annotated. Of course. I pulled it free and hugged the book to my chest.

“You’re still banned from page 243.”

“Your appeal has been received.”

I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t you dare committee me in my own library.”

“Our library.”

He came up behind me. I felt him before he touched me. His hands settled at my waist, light enough that I had room to leave and firm enough that my body felt every finger.

“I keep waiting for the catch,” I admitted.

His thumbs stroked once at my waist. “There is one.”

My whole body tightened.

His mouth found the skin beneath my jaw. A kiss. Slow. Careful. Too gentle for a man with blood in his reputation.

I gripped his wrist.

“Is this all because of what I am now?” I asked before I lost the nerve. “The badge. The tower. The books. The expense privileges. This whole . . . demon billionaire book goblin enrichment program. Is this because I turned out to be useful? Something worth keeping fed? Because I’ve been nothing for a long time,” I said. “Then my eyes glow, and suddenly everybody has plans for me.”

He turned me slowly to face him. His mask gave me nothing. His body gave me more. Tension in the shoulders. Fingers tight at my waist.

“No,” he said. “I didn’t know you were a succubus when I put the first ward on your door. I didn’t know when I left the first rose. I didn’t know when I read your filthy book and realized you had terrible, fascinating taste in men.”