Chapter Twenty-Five
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
GIMME YOUR EYES
ELOISE
I hear the sound of running water as I turn about the room, taking in its minimal furnishings. Just enough to keep a simple man comfortable.
And while Ezra is the kind of man who can afford a far more luxurious lifestyle, I somehow see him as a simple man with simple pleasures. He doesn’t brag or boast, doesn’t remind me of his wealth or the fact that it seems like the more I get to know him, the more I realize that helping out the bookstore likely didn’t affect his bank account much.
Then again, I don’t know his life back in the city. I don’t know what he goes back to. Hell, he could have a whole girlfriend he’s hiding from me.
But the idea of Ezra being someone’s boyfriend makes my mouth curve. Nothing about him fits such an inane title, I think as I glance around.
A massive bed, two nightstands on either side with matching lamps, and a large dresser. Nothing personal. Nothing?—
I stop at the sight of something on the far nightstand. At first, I can’t tell if it’s what I think it is. But when I approach, it confirms what I already knew.
This tricky little fucker.
How the hell…
I snatch up the offending object and storm into the bathroom, slowing down for a moment at the sight of his perfectly sculpted ass as he stands under the warm water that already steams up the glass shower door. He stands there like a statue for a moment, the water cascading over flesh and muscle and bone.
Before I can think better of it, I slap the book against the glass.
The man has the audacity to take his time to turn and look at me, a small smile forming on his face when he sees the copy of Wuthering Heights staring back at him.
“Who told you?” I demand, wondering how he schemed his way into my life, into my body, until I showed up here in the middle of the night on my own like I’d been summoned. Like this was the only place where peace existed in my life anymore.
The old me would’ve never done something like this.
But maybe I like the new me.
Maybe I like seeing my favorite book on his nightstand, even if it scares the hell out of me.
“Sophie,” he answers, wiping the water away from his face as he reaches to open the shower door. He combs his fingers through his hair, and I try not to pay attention to the neatly trimmed body hair that smatters his chest and trails down his stomach, down to his pleasure center.
My heart hammers in my chest, and I take a step back like the coward I am.
“Does she know?” I ask, clutching my favorite story to my chest like a life preserver. Like it’ll somehow steady the heavy beating against my ribcage.
“Would it be so bad if she did?” he asks, his gaze never wavering. Those damn green eyes stare at me like they’d find me anywhere I tried to hide from them.
The non-answer hangs between us as we stare at each other, him daring me to be brave and me wishing he could’ve found a time machine and met me back when I was.
Maybe it doesn’t matter if Sophie knows. Maybe she already does. But the price of my pride, of this secret, of everyone knowing he saved our bookstore in return for my company…it doesn’t sit right with me.
They’d call me a whore. Their whispers would do more harm to my store than I ever could.
Neither of us speaks as I try to wrap my brain around every thought that threatens to pummel me. Thoughts I don’t want to think right now.
I ran away to get away from them. I ran here to stop thinking.
“I just want to know you, Eloise. That’s all.”
The steam billowing around me beckons me into his aura, and I can’t help but step into the shower, pushing him against the far wall, under the hot spray.
Immediately, his shirt clings to my skin, the fabric wrapping around my mid-thighs. As if he can read my mind, he runs his thumbs along my skin, from the sides of my knees up to my hips, peeling away his shirt from my body. All while he peers down at me, not kissing me, not blinking.
Is he afraid to scare me?
“You don’t have to be gentle with me,” I murmur, my gaze on his lips before settling back on his eyes. “I won’t break.”
“I might,” he whispers just before he yanks his shirt over my head. And maybe I knew we’d be here because I didn’t bother with a bra or panties. I had no desire for that kind of barrier.
So when he pulls my naked body against him, I sigh just as he presses his mouth to mine, breathing life into me.
I just want to know you, Eloise.
Had anyone else ever known me so keenly?
Wordlessly, he uses two fingers to press me back against the tile wall, sinking to his knees before me. I watch as he reaches for my foot, kissing the inside of my calf as his eyes never leave mine. He hitches my knee over his shoulder, and before I have a moment to catch my breath, he steals it.
His lips and tongue and touch all meet at my center, causing me to cry out. Had it ever been like this?
“Gimme your eyes,” he murmurs before running his tongue against my slit. “I want to see how good I make you feel.”
Greedy man. He wants every piece of me he can get.
And in my desire to wrap myself in this pleasure, I try my hardest to oblige.
It’s a fight to keep my eyes open but I do as he says.
And after I come, when he slips inside of me, my legs wrapped his waist, I sink my teeth into his shoulder.
Anything to keep from whispering the words sitting on the tip of tongue.
He doesn’t just make me feel good.
He makes me feel love.
I’ve just spent almost the entire day naked, I remind myself as I pull into my driveway, a sore heaviness settled between my thighs that is both unfamiliar and the source of my smile. The lights are off in the house and the guesthouse above the garage. My phone has been turned off, and for all I know, the bookstore could’ve burned to the ground.
But I needed this. I needed time to stand still, even if it couldn’t ever again. I needed to give in and let go.
Little snippets of the pleasure-filled day accompany me as I walk toward the front door, keys in my hands.
“Your body is so beautiful to me. It belongs in beautiful things.”
A white box, left on the bed for me after brunch, filled with frippery and laces and satins. He asked me to try them all on for him as he laid on the bed, heavy lids over green assessing eyes.
And then we did things I’d never experienced outside of literature.
Garters weren’t meant to keep wrists banded together. Stockings weren’t meant to muffles cries of pleasure.
Then again, men like Ezra weren’t meant to exist outside of the pages of the books I’d read.
“Get on your knees.”
Those commands of his no longer make me pause and wonder. Because I know the reward is far greater than the risk of feeling silly.
I unlock the door, smiling to myself. Smiling at how utterly spent my body feels.
“What would you like me to do to you?”
There’s a spark of fear that power gives you. And I worry that once these moments are over, I’ll never know them again.
I hear his words and feel him on me as I unlock the front door.
“I’ve never met someone I wanted more in my life.”
I sigh as I set my things down, and nearly jump out of my skin at the sight of my older sister sitting on the stairs.
“Where’ve you been?” Sophie asks, her tired stare regarding mine with distrust.
How rich.
“Working,” I grumble, placing my keys on the table next to the front door. “Any other questions?”
She sits still for a moment, assessing me with eyes that know what sin looks like up close. She can probably smell the sex on me.
But she gets up and walks out, slamming the front door behind her.
I watch through the window as she makes her way back to the guesthouse, wondering what the hell it’ll take to bridge this gap between us.
Knowing neither of us will be the one to lay down the first brick.