His Violet (The May Flowers Series) Read online

  His Violet

  The May Flowers Series

  Fiona Starr

  Copyright © 2019 by Fiona Starr

  All rights reserved.

  No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without written permission from the author, except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

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  Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Epilogue

  More May Flowers Short Stories…

  About Fiona Starr

  The Blaze Family Romance Collection

  The Flirt Club!

  CHARLIE

  The first time I laid eyes on Violet Duchenne, there was a spark. It was one of those things… it rang through me in that moment when our eyes met. We were in Freshman Orientation—the A-through-E group—and she sat next to me in the university’s lecture hall.

  She had leaned over in her chair to get something out of her bag which was on the floor, and her long brown hair had fallen off her back to hang over her shoulder. When she sat up, her hair fanned the air, filling it with the scent of fruit and flowers and sunshine. I inhaled deeply, taking in as much as I could.

  “Your hair smells amazing,” I whispered over the instructor who was droning on about the dining hall.

  She flinched, clearly startled, but she didn’t say anything. When she looked at me and our eyes met, my heart flipped and it was like something in the air snapped me to attention. Maybe time stopped… maybe not… I don’t know. It was over in a flash, but we definitely had a moment—or at least I did.

  First, she turned toward me as if she wasn’t sure I was talking to her. Then, when she met my gaze, her brown eyes locked with mine and her lips parted. She gasped and then the magical part was over. After that her face turned pale; she seemed to cringe a little, then she lifted a hand to shield her eyes and leaned over so her hair formed a curtain, blocking me from view.

  I remember being stunned; I’d never had that effect on a woman before. I mean, it’s not like girls throw themselves at me, but I do all right, and I can definitely tell when I’m not wanted so I took her cue and turned my attention back to the lecture.

  That was two years ago. I had a couple of classes with her freshman and sophomore year, and I know we made eye contact sometimes, but I never got another opportunity to talk to her. She always seems to sit on the opposite side of the room from me and rush out at the end of class. But out of those few classes, Violet Duchenne disappeared.

  Until today.

  I step through the doors of the university’s library with a list of topics I need for a project in my Human Behavior class. Normally, I would go online and research everything that way, but we have to cite all these sources and I don’t trust the Internet to provide one-hundred percent reliable information.

  The air inside the library is cool and the main room smells of wood polish and dust. I know already that I’m out of my league when it comes to locating specific books on the shelves, so I head right to the research desk at the back of the building.

  I place my list on the white marble counter and wait for the librarian to notice me waiting. When she finally turns around, I can’t believe my eyes.

  “Violet Duchenne.” Her name falls from my lips and the people working at the table behind me send an angry shh in my direction. I turn and try to look apologetic. “Sorry,” I half-mouth, half-whisper.

  When I turn back, Violet’s eyes are as big as saucers.

  VIOLET

  Oh. My. God. Charlie Blaze stands at the help desk with a smile on his face that’s exactly like the one I remember. The sun beams in through the glass doors behind him, surrounding him with a buttery halo so bright I wouldn’t be surprised if a choir of angelic children appeared out of thin air and burst into song.

  I’ve imagined this moment so many times, and so many different ways, it takes a minute for me to catch up with reality. I’m overcome with a mental montage of the fantasy scenarios I’ve written in the pages of my diary over the last couple of years.

  But he doesn’t leap over the counter and take me in his bulging arms, caressing my cheek as he professes his undying love for me. He doesn’t take my hand and kiss his way up my arm to my lips telling me that my hair smells amazing as his gray eyes drink me in. He doesn’t tear my dress off, and…

  I force myself to swallow and I realize I’m gaping at him like an idiot. He is actually here. Charlie Blaze is here. In my library. At the desk where I work. Looking right at me.

  “Violet Duchenne.” My name moves from his mouth through the air and when it hits me, my skin breaks out in gooseflesh. I can’t breathe. I need to get out of here.

  He turns to apologize to some people behind him, and I feel like maybe I can escape. I could drop to the floor and crawl away while he’s not looking… pretend I was never here. But he turns around again and I know that I’m like a deer in the headlights… frozen and unsure. I have never had one before, but I imagine this is what an out-of-body experience must feel like.

  He smiles that smile again. “I’m Charlie Blaze. We met at—”

  “Freshman orientation, I remember.” My words rush over his in a jumble and I feel stupid and awkward. I also remember him from Freshman Economics, English Lit, Sophomore Civics, Comparative Religion, and the first two classes of Creative Writing that he must have dropped since he never came back. I don’t think there is a way to tell him any of this without sounding like a deranged stalker, so I decide to just keep it all to myself.

  “Yeah. Orientation. That’s right.” He runs his hand through his brown hair and bends his head, rubbing the back of his neck. When he looks up at me with a thousand-watt smolder, I know I’m going to be up late tonight adding the next installment to my diary. Holy shitballs—I have always thought he was good looking, but he’s downright dreamy in the flesh.

  The thought hits me like a splash of water in my face. Of course he’s dreamy. He’s always been dreamy. You know this Violet. You also know that he’s with Phoebe McEntire and not at all interested in you. What would a guy like Charlie Blaze have in common with a wallflower like you? It’s not that he’s here to ask you out or anything… he’s clearly here for help with school work.

  I talk myself down. Okay, Violet. Keep your panties on. Your diary fantasies of Charlie Blaze are not ready for Prime Time.

  I swallow the bitter pill of reality and try to compose myself. The fantasy montage is at it again and I see myself leaning forward on the counter, the cold marble perking my nipples which are visible through my sheer top. Then I see myself grabbing Charlie by the collar and pulling him toward me, asking him if he wants to smell my hair again.

  It takes everything in me to quiet my racing mind. How is an oversexed, under-serviced, wildly imaginative virgin supposed to cope when the object of her fantasies is standing before her with an eager smile on his gorgeous, chiseled face?

  I swallow hard, but my mouth is dry. “What can I do for you?” I ask. My voice is a whisper as my head drops down and my hair falls in front of my face. I bite my lip to prevent Diary Violet from saying, “Anything you
want, Charlie Blaze. Just take me.”

  CHARLIE

  Her head drops and her hair falls, hiding her face. It’s reminiscent of the lecture hall and that first day we met, but right before her eyes hit the marble, she bites her bottom lip and smiles. The sun catches a flash of her white teeth as they nibble on the corner of her luscious pink lips.

  My inner caveman bursts from hibernation and demands that I drag her off by her sweet-smelling hair immediately and show all the places she should be nibbling.

  I shake my head. What the hell, Charlie? Pull it together. “Um…” I shove the paper across the counter toward her as my caveman howls with disappointment. “I made a list.” It’s all I can think of to say. Smooth, man. Real smooth.

  Violet takes the paper and inspects the list of topics I need to research. “You must be in Professor Wilson’s class. Lots of people have been in this week asking for help.” She talks so low I have to lean in to hear her. Sending my movement, she looks up at me and blushes when our eyes meet. Then she looks away, studying the list again.

  “Yeah. Wilson’s Human Behavior, this research paper counts for a quarter of our grade. Do you think you’ll be able to find what I need?”

  “Are you going to stay and work today, or come back another time?” The flush on her cheeks makes her brown eyes even warmer.

  “Oh. I was hoping to work on it today. Is that all right? Sorry, I don’t spend much time in the library. Is it better if I come back later?”

  Her eyes flutter. “Oh. No. It’s fine. Absolutely. I can help you with this.” She starts typing on a computer behind the desk and making notes on a piece of paper. “It’s no problem. Actually, it’s my job.” When she’s finished, she glances in my direction, but doesn’t really make eye contact. “It will take me a minute to pull everything for you. Let’s get you a desk. Follow me.”

  She’s all business as she leads me through the stacks toward a small research carrel nestled into an alcove at the rear of the library.

  Unlike the rows of mini cubicles in the main library area, this carrel is like a tiny office squeezed into an old broom closet. It’s maybe six feet by eight, but it has a desk, a chair, and electricity for my computer and phone. I step inside. “This is nice.”

  She nods and looks at her hands. “It is. These are the old carrels from when they first built the library. There’s only a handful of them left after they did a huge remodel years ago. They are really nice to work in. Quiet. And it happens to be in the section where most of the books you need are.”

  “That’s great. Thanks.” I slip my bag off my shoulder, pull out my laptop and class notes, and lay everything out on the desk. This research paper is going to be pretty involved, and before I got to the library, I wasn’t sure how it was going to go. But now I feel at ease knowing I have Violet’s help to find the books for my research.

  “If you’ll wait here, I’ll take me a few minutes,” she says, her eyes already looking toward the door. And as she turns away, I realize I want her to hurry, she can come back and stand near me.

  * * *

  When Violet returns, she’s got an arm-load of books. “This should get you started. There are a couple of titles in the archive that I think will be especially helpful. I’ll go find them and be right back.”

  “That’ll be great. Thank you… Violet.”

  When I say her name, it makes her look up at me. The tiniest smile appears on her face. I smile too, and she steps backward, slamming into the door jamb as she leaves, her face turning all kinds of red. When I first met her, I thought she didn’t like me. But maybe Violet Duchenne is just painfully shy.

  About ten minutes later she’s back with another armload of textbooks. I spin in my chair to face her as she enters.

  “I found one that covers the first scientific studies done on body language, your list mentioned—” Violet steps through the doorway and the top book in the pile clips the wall, knocking her off balance. She overcorrects with a sideways step and bumps into the desk. Then she drops the books, and falls right into my arms.

  VIOLET

  I squeeze my eyes shut and brace for impact. When I open them, his gray eyes hold me as steady and strong as his arms, which are every bit as strong and bulgy as I imagined they would be.

  I freeze for a second. This isn’t happening. Then I feel his heart beating against my shoulder, which is pressed up against his chest. I smell his cologne, which is just a hint of something spicy and clean. I see the dark stubble along the edge of his tanned jaw. He’s looking down at me and the look on his face tells me he’s as surprised as I am.

  “Oh, My god. I am so sorry.” I say, unable to move from his marvelous embrace.

  His eyes hold mine as he growls. “I’m not.” And before I even know what’s happening, his lips are on mine. His kiss is soft and slow, like he’s not sure he should be doing this to me without checking first. He pulls my bottom lip into his mouth and I feel his tongue move across it. He pulls away, his eyes boring into mine.

  I don’t know what comes over me. It’s like Regular Violet and Diary Violet take one look at each other and Diary Violet, with all her steamy imaginings and sexy dreaming drop-kicks Regular Violet to the floor and takes over.

  My hands are in his hair. I comb through the thick locks on top and move to the shaved softness at the nape of his neck, luxuriating in the feel of his warm skin on my fingertips. I pull him to me, ignoring the fact that I am still laying awkwardly across his lap and we kiss again, this time Diary Violet opens her mouth and lets go.

  His mouth moves over my chin and down my neck, kissing me, caressing me with his tongue. Everything feels urgent and needy. He finds my ear and his breath is warm and hurried; it sends a thrill down my spine that makes me whimper.

  “Oh, Violet.” His voice is raspy and quiet, his face serious.

  “Charlie.” I breathe his name, and I hear the passion in my voice that sounds like someone I don’t recognize. I’ve dreamed this. I’ve pictured it and written it, and now that it’s happening, and it’s so surreal I truly feel like I am outside my body. But I know that I am not because every with move his hands make—every time his mouth makes contact with my skin—I feel it with an intensity I could never have imagined.

  He shifts his arm under my knees and lifts me off his lap as he stands. Then he turns and sits me upright on the edge of the desk; shoving the books aside and placing me down gently.

  I don’t want to stop kissing him. I don’t want any space between our bodies. I want to wrap my arms around him and hold him close and let him move his mouth over every inch of me.

  He stands in front of me and places a hand on each knee, leaning in to kiss me again. I open my legs and wrap them around him, inviting him closer, wanting him near… needing his body up against mine. My skirt shifts up my thighs and I just don’t care.

  His hardness is like a rod between my legs and the pressure makes me moan from a place deep inside. It’s involuntary, and hearing myself make such an animal sound shocks and thrills me. But instead of feeling like it’s happening to someone else, the sound seems to bring me back into my body. Heat explodes between my legs.

  Charlie reaches up under my hair at the back of my neck and grabs a handful, pulling gently, forcing me to arch my neck for him. My breath quivers as he kisses me along my jaw line. Then he’s back at my ear and the sensation it brings makes every nerve in my body sing. I grind against him, wondering how in the world my body knows which may to move.

  He unbuttons the top button of my blouse, then the next, revealing more of my neck and collar bone. He kisses the top of my breast and inhales deeply. “I want you, Violet.” His breath is hot on my skin.

  I’ve never been with a man before. I’ve wanted to—oh, god so many times, but the opportunities just never really arrived for me. I figured it would happen in its own time and until it did, I’d entertain myself, using my diary as the outlet for all of these thoughts I’ve played with ever since I first laid eyes on Cha
rlie Blaze.

  Now I’m here, with him, and it’s one million times better in real life. I want him. I him to be my first. I am ready to let go and allow him to take me, all of me, and finally satisfy this yearning I’ve harbored forever. I reach down and touch him, wrapping my hand around his erection, fighting against the fabric of his pants, which are straining to contain him. I squeeze him gently, amazed at how hard he feels in my grip. How big it feels in my hand. It isn’t what I imagined exactly.

  The phone on the desk next to my bare thigh comes to life. The vibration makes Charlie jump away from me like I’m a hot wire and he’s just received a hundred and twenty volts of electricity right into his spine. I glance down at the screen and see Phoebe’s face smiling through the glass screen.

  Charlie stares at me from the other side of the carrel, looking like a guilty man as the phone continues to vibrate and then, finally, thankfully, the call goes to voicemail.

  “Oh my god.” What was I thinking? Hell, I wasn’t thinking. What was he thinking? How could I let this happen? He has a girlfriend who clearly is still in his life. So what does that make this?

  “Violet. I…” He stops and exhales without saying anything more. But really, what is there to say?

  I glance down and feel self-conscious now that my skirt is up around my hips and my panties are in full view. I hop off the desk and try to arrange myself as I push past Charlie and leave the tiny room. My chest feels tight. I hurry around the stacks until I am around the corner and it’s okay to breathe.