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“To what do I owe this pleasure?”
Passive aggressiveness was never something I ever had to take part in, my blunt ways coming through before the need ever arose. And yet, in order to express my anger with him, I’d have to explain to him that I’ve missed his badgering presence that keeps me from sinking into myself.
That one email is unacceptable.
That Ilikehim.
Passive aggressiveness it is.
Ezra is silent for a moment, and I wonder if he’s hung up. I almost ask if he’s still there when he finally speaks again.
“I dreamed of you. And I woke up with my cock in my hand.” Another second of silence before, “I called your name when I came. Almost like I couldn’t help it.”
The last statement is said so quietly, I convince myself it was an inner thinking that couldn’t help but voice itself. Something meant only for him.
“That’s nice.” My voice is tight as I look out the window, wondering where Mrs. Gooden’s gone.
“Oh, it’s nice, is it? Truth or dare?” His tone is easy, but I’m learning that this means nothing when it comes to Ezra.
This man dons battle gear with a smile.
“Dare,” I grind out, scooting away from the desk so I can hop off the stool. The phone’s cord only allows me to walk so far as I await my fate.
“I left you something in the drawer.”
You’ve got to be kidding me.
“When?” I ask as I rush toward it, sliding the first drawer open before slamming it shut and reaching for the second one.
I open the second drawer and my right eye twitches at the small object staring back at me.
“When you weren’t there,” is all he says, and I find it impossible. I’m almost always here. But another question tumbles from my lips.
“Was Sophie here? Did you speak to her?”
I’m not afraid of what Sophie will think. I just don’t want to deal with anyone on my case about sleeping with the town’s enemy.
“Our secret is still safe,” he reassures me as I take a closer look at what’s in the drawer.
Bright pink with a little black button on the bottom, it almost looks like it’s meant for a child.
“Is that a vibrator, Mr. James?”
He ignores the question and gets right down to business. “Is there anyone in the bookstore?”
“No, but?—”
“Turn it on.”
My frustrated sigh only spurs him on.
“I don’t hear anything, Eloise.”
The only person to call me by the name I want, is the one I can’t stand in this moment.
“Because I’m at work. How would you feel if I interrupted your day for this foolishness?”
“I’d welcome it,” he says, his voice edging on a whisper. “Now turn it on.”
