There was no ignoring the fact that he was turning me on. I really needed him to not know he was turning me on.

Nate unwittingly saved me. His hand dipped downward, shaking me out of the little sensual haze he'd put me in when I realized where he was heading.

For my belly!

I clutched at his hand to stop him, but when our eyes met in the mirror his expression was admonishing. He gave me a little shake of his head. "Let go, babe."

I shook my head back at him.

"Liv."

"Nate . . ."

His expression instantly softened at the panic in my voice. "Trust me."

Trembling, I let go of his hand and sucked in another breath as he stepped even closer to me, the heat of his front brushing against my back. And suddenly I was sucking in my breath for an entirely different reason as the rough tips of his fingers glided slowly down my stomach.

I had never been more thankful for a T-shirt bra than I was at that moment. Nate's touch was turning me on so much that my nipples had hardened to little points.

Oh, boy.

He didn't need to know that his lessons were causing that kind of reaction in me. For the first time since we'd met, I really wished my friend wasn't so goddamn sexy.

Flattening his hand, Nate smoothed it over my belly, back and forth, learning my shape, until my cheeks could have guided a lost sailor home, they were so red.

"Is this the barely there pouch?"

I nodded, unable to speak, sure that if I did it would come out all Greta Garbo and sex. That would definitely give away my hormonally charged state.

Nate's hand slid back over my stomach to my hip, where it stayed. He gave me a reassuring squeeze. "Feels good. Soft. Sexy." He murmured in my ear again, and I tried and failed not to shiver in response. "Your skin is like silk."

In my head I was panting and in reality I was really close to panting, so when he pulled back abruptly it was almost like he'd thrown a bucket of ice water over me.

Thank you. I needed that. I shook myself, giving my cheek an inner slap. Snap out of it!

"Now," Nate began, his voice all controlled and back to normal, "I'm a man, and as you know, I don't say shit I don't mean. So here's what I see."

Oh, God.

"Great hair, stunning eyes, gorgeous skin, fucking knockout smile, great tits, nice arse, and long, sexy legs. Fuckable. Very, very fuckable."

My lips twitched with laughter, and I had to admit to feeling a rush of real pleasure sweep over me at his analysis. "Succinct."

Nate shrugged as he took in my bright-eyed expression. "Just trying to get the point across that there are not very many men who wouldn't want to fuck you. And this is from a man many women find attractive." He flashed a quick, arrogant grin.

I rolled my eyes at him. He knew damn well how good-looking he was. I imagined that when you looked like a movie star it was almost impossible not to know how good-looking you were. "Of course you're attractive."

"Really?" He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the footboard of my bed as his eyebrows dipped together in consternation. "I thought you got tongue-tied around men you found attractive?"

Is his vanity pricked?

Inside I was gleefully guffawing at the idea. On the outside I was a lot nicer. "You cocky bastard, you know every straight woman on the planet finds you attractive."

He rewarded me with another arrogant smile, his dimples popping in that delightfully sexy way that could be really distracting. "So you don't get tongue-tied all the time?"

"You're different. You and I are friends, so I try not to think about you that way."

"Back at you, babe."

Hmm. Nice. I immediately plummeted from the high I'd been on. I didn't know what to say to that.

Nate looked like he wanted to laugh. "It doesn't mean I don't."

"Don't what?" I frowned.

His eyes drifted slowly over my body in a way that had me clamping my legs together in denial. "Think about you that way."

My heart slammed against my chest. "Really?"

He snorted. "Last time I checked, I'm a man and you're an attractive woman. Just because we don't fuck doesn't mean I haven't thought about it. That's how men work."

Unsuccessfully hiding a smile, I nodded casually. "Back at you. But," I hurried to explain, "because you're my friend . . . I don't know. I'm just comfortable with you. There's no sexual pressure, so I can just be me around you."

Nate took this in and then straightened from his position against the footboard. "I'm working the next few days, but on Thursday night I'll come back over and we'll continue."

I bobbed my head in agreement.

"I hope you're feeling more confident." He shot me another cocky smile.

Sighing, I looked back at the mirror. "It's nice to know there are guys out there who might think how you think, Nate. But not all guys are like you. I've seen you." I smiled sadly back at him. "You find women, in general, attractive. It's not a bad thing. It's a great thing. I wish all men were as easy to please."

Nate shook his head, looking a little impatient. "I'm not attracted to all women. Believe me." He took a step closer to me, so close I had to tilt my head back a little to meet his eyes, eyes that now smoldered in a way that caused the breath to hitch in my throat. "If you were just some woman in a bar, I'd pick you out from all the others, take you home, and fuck you so hard you wouldn't be able to walk straight in the morning."

I gulped.

In fact, I think I might have had a little mini-orgasm.

"Olivia?"

"Got it." I managed a whisper. "You think I'm attractive."

His lips twitched again, his dark eyes bright with amusement. "But do you?"

Eyes wide, I nodded rapidly. "Oh, I'm definitely getting there now."

Breaking out into a huge grin, Nate smacked my ass playfully before heading for the door. "Good. See you Thursday, babe."

CHAPTER7.

Great hair, stunning eyes, gorgeous skin, fucking knockout smile, great tits, nice arse, and long, sexy legs. Fuckable. Very, very fuckable.

Nate's voice kept ringing in my head during quiet moments. It had ever since Monday night. Every time I remembered his compliments I flushed with pleasure, smiling goofily, and then overanalyzed whether or not he meant it. Something I'm sure he'd be pissed off to learn. I couldn't help it. It wasn't like my confidence in my looks was suddenly going to grow overnight because the gorgeous Nate Sawyer said he found me attractive.

Okay, so I wasn't lying when I told him it helped.

It definitely helped.

Or at least it put me in a good mood for the next few days.

"Did you hear that Jude and Mari from Special Collections are getting married?" Ronan, one of my colleagues, asked me as we sat eating lunch in the staff room together.

Thinking about that harridan Mari, I replied dryly, "How nice for them."

"Jesus, you can hold a grudge," he chuckled, munching his sandwich while he texted his wife. I knew he was texting his wife because the two of them were addicted to texting each other throughout the workday. They'd been married five years and still acted like newlyweds.

My mouth parted in indignation. "She was horrible to me."

Special Collections was on the sixth floor of the library and could be accessed only by appointment. It was run by the rare-books staff-Jude, Mari, and a small group of colleagues who were trained in dealing with old and rare books. It was a pretty cool job, and by all accounts a pretty cool place. When I'd first started working at the library I'd asked Mari for a tour. I was promptly told that ordinary staff were not allowed in unless they had an appointment, and the appointment had to be for a legitimate reason.

"This isn't a small-town library, Miss Holloway," she'd sneered over her glasses at me. "And even if it was, what would a provincial like you find of merit in Special Collections?"

Ronan snorted as I reminded him what she'd said to me. "You've got to give her points for getting the word 'provincial' into the sentence."

"Oh, you know she meant 'American.' Elitist . . ."

"Elitist what?"

"Nothing," I mumbled, dipping my head to my e-reader again. "My mom always said if you can't say anything nice, don't say anything at all."

"My mum always said if you can't say something nice, say something memorable."

I laughed. "I might steal that."

The door to the staff room flew open and our colleague Wendy strolled in. She was grinning huge. "I just got asked out again by another student. This place is brilliant for my self-esteem. I can't believe I didn't think to come here sooner." She shrugged as she got a plastic cup of water from the water dispenser. "Of course, the fact that it's the third time I've been hit on by a woman is a little puzzling."

Sneaking a look at Ronan I saw him struggling not to laugh, which of course set me off. Once I lost control, he started laughing too. Wendy was a thirty-three-year-old wife and mother of two. She was attractive, friendly, funny, and just plain old nice. And apparently a hit with the ladies.

She watched us chuckle with a good-natured smile on her face. "What? Do you think I'm doing something to encourage it?"

I shook my head. "I don't know. Just take it as the compliment it is."

"You should know." Ronan smirked at me. "You're always getting hit on."

My eyebrows puckered together. "By barely out-of-their-adolescence boys who will screw anything as long as it has boobs and a vagina attached to it."

"We're using the word 'vagina' at work now?" Angus's voice jerked my head around from Ronan. My boss was leaning against the doorway, regarding us with cool amusement.

I smiled sheepishly. "We're talking about medical journals?"

Angus ignored that and wandered toward the coffee machine. "I met Michael here, you know," he suddenly offered up, which told us he'd been standing at the door for a while and knew exactly what we'd been talking about. "Fraternizing with the students isn't encouraged, but I was twenty-three and he was a twenty-five-year-old postgrad." He grinned at me over his shoulder. "Sometimes when you click you just click-you can't help who it's with. Have you never had that with anyone, Liv? A student, perhaps?"

My pulse throbbed in my neck at his pointed question. Oh, my God . . . did Angus know about my crush on Benjamin? I shook my head quickly. "No."

"Hmm." He smirked at me, leaning against the counter. "Well, I've noticed a postgrad or two checking you out . . . in the reserve section."

Was he saying he'd noticed Benjamin checking me out?

"Really?" I squeaked.

Laughing, Angus replied, "You're quite possibly the most oblivious person I've ever met in my life."

"Checking me out?" I asked for clarification.

"Yes. You." He frowned at me. "Why do you ask that like it's impossible?"

"Um . . ." Uh-oh. I didn't want my colleagues knowing that any self-esteem I had was clinging to my personality with a death grip.

Angus gave me a look that suggested he thought me more than a little nutty (he gave me that look a lot), grabbed his coffee, and strode toward the exit. "Try not to use the word 'vagina' outside of the staff room."

Ronan and Wendy laughed, but I was barely listening, diving inside my own head.

If you were just some woman in a bar, I'd pick you out from all the others, take you home, and fuck you so hard you wouldn't be able to walk straight in the morning.

Nate's delicious voice was echoing in my brain again, along with Angus's comments. Maybe Nate really was being one hundred percent honest with me. It was possible that men, actual men, not adolescent boys and young college boys, might find me attractive-might actually be okay with a woman who was a little overweight, had curves and an ass on her.

And here I'd thought Sir Mix-A-Lot wrote "I Like Big Butts" just because it was catchy.

"Huh."

"What?" Ronan's eyebrows rose in question.

"Nothing," I muttered. "I'm just having a possibly life-altering epiphany over here."

"Want to share?"

I shook my head with a smile and got to my feet. "Better get back to work." I cleaned up the small mess I'd made, rinsed out my mug, and headed toward the door, unconsciously singing out loud.

Just before the door shut behind me, I heard Ronan sigh heavily. "Great, now I've got Sir Mix-A-Lot stuck in my head."