He was shoving the books away and off the table as she rose and turned, his hands coming to grip her waist. She felt as if she were starving for him, drowning, and he was her oxygen. Heat was coiling through her as his hands slid under her shirt, palms smoothing along her back. Fingertips traced along her spine, causing goosebumps to dance along her skin. It was late; the library had been empty for some time now. Their table was situated in the far back corner and it had been well over an hour since she had seen another soul. 