This work contains themes and scenes intended for mature readers (18+). It explores intimacy, emotional complexity, and adult relationships through contemporary romance and erotic realism. Reader discretion is advised.
The Library
Physical Reality of The Moment
Cotton and Jasmin trespass in the library, finding a connection that bypasses ritual and lands squarely in the messy, physical reality of the moment.
An Excerpt from this Chapter...
The kiss wasn’t a sacrament. It was wet. It tasted of salt and mint.
Cotton’s hands found Jasmin’s waist. The wool of the sweater was rough under her palms. Jasmin’s legs hooked around Cotton’s thighs, pulling her in.
There was no slow, deliberate liturgy. There was just friction. The hard edge of the table digging into Cotton’s hip. The sound of their breathing, loud in the empty room.
Jasmin slid off the table. She pulled Cotton down to the rug—a worn, scratchy Persian thing that smelled of dust.
Cotton’s knee hit the floor hard. She winced.
“Okay?” Jasmin asked, pausing.
“Floor is hard,” Cotton gasped.
Jasmin laughed. A low, breathless sound. “We can stop.”
“No.” Cotton pulled her down. “Don’t stop.”
It wasn’t graceful. Getting jeans off over boots was a struggle. There were elbows and awkward angles.
But it was real.
Cotton felt the weight of Jasmin on top of her—solid, heavy, warm. She felt the scratch of the rug on her bare back. She felt the cold air of the library raising goosebumps on her skin, contrasting with the heat of Jasmin’s mouth on her neck.
She didn’t map Jasmin’s body. She didn’t catalog the reactions.
She just felt.
The pressure of Jasmin’s hand. The hitch in her breath. The way she murmured Cotton’s name—not as a prayer, but as a request.
Cotton. Please.
When it happened—the friction, the heat, the release—it wasn’t a shattering apotheosis. It was a physical relief. A grounding wire snapping into place.
Cotton lay back on the rug, panting. Her shirt was twisted. Her back stung from the wool.
She felt entirely, wonderfully human.