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“Another one?”
“You left the other day and…I couldn’t stop thinking about how badly I want to taste you again.” His tone is even, his words are purposeful. I just wonder what that purpose is.
And he’s labeled the words correctly. They are a confession. Only, I’m not the person who’ll grant him immunity. I’m the person who’ll take them as warning.
“Never again,” I whisper, hating that I can’t be certain. “It will never happen again.”
“Maybe not. But I can’t get your flavor off my tongue.” He stops, just in front of me.
His body heat reacquaints itself with mine.
When his index finger reaches out to brush against my cheek, I hold my breath.
I’ve always heard the saying that there’s a thin line between love and hate.
Those people never straddled the line between lust and disdain. It’s become my permanent residence since the day Ezra walked in with his business partner, ready to make an offer on this place.
“Tell me to stop,” he instructs me.
His finger trails to my shoulder.
“Tell me.” His words sound like a plea. “And I will.”
That finger dips lower, grazing the swell of my breast.
Still, I’m silent, relishing in his desire for me, letting it wash over me even as it threatens to unravel me.
“I’m going to kiss you, Eloise.”
The sound of my name has me jerking back, blinking before I open my mouth.
“Stop,” I tell him, leaning against the nearest bookshelf, taking a breath so deep, I swear I take all the air in the room.
How am I going to last a whole summer in his presence?
“See you at noon,” he announces, as if the ghost of his touch was just something I dreamed up.
And without another word, he walks out, leaving me with the wooden beams that held me together when everything else had fallen apart.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
SOMETHING LIKE THIS
ELOISE
“You’re late,”I hear Ezra say as I get out of my car, three minutes past noon.
I turn to find him stepping out from the wood line, and I wonder if he’s just gotten through with hiding a dead body. The perks of reading dark romance and lusting after psychopaths and serial killers.
“Why are you such a peculiar person?” I ask, tugging at the hem of my shorts and looking around the area. The grass is a perfect shade of green and the cicadas are buzzing in the trees. When my gaze settles on him again, he’s a lot closer and a lot sweatier than I noticed before.
“It’s nice to see you, too.”
We stand in front of each other, and I look around again, not sure what comes next. “Sorry?—”
“Oh, no it’s okay,” he reassures me with a slight grin. He doesn’t even know what I was going to say. But if I’m being honest, neither do I. Was I apologizing for my awkwardness? For my tardiness?
My hands swing at my sides as he nods and gestures toward the house.
