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Because if I don’t, I’ll chain her ass to my bed so she can never leave again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
GIMME YOUR EYES
ELOISE
I hearthe 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 ofWuthering Heightsstaring 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.
