“Tell me, Aurora …” Ezra’s voice is quiet, but it settles like a dare. “Which one do you want?”
There are so many that I don’t know where to start.
Eventually, I decide I’m going to pick something I’ve never heard of before.
My body involuntarily sways back and forth as I search for one that calls to me—the perfect book for me in this moment.
“May I look through that one?” I ask, pointing to a slightly worn book with a dark green cover and a four-tier cake embossed in gold foil on the spine.
“Your wish is my command, Aurora,” Ezra says as he unlocks the case.
His long fingers gently pull the book from the shelf, and just before I slip into another fantasy about the way they might learn my body, he places it in my hands.
“I must say, I wasn’t expecting that. I assumed you’d gravitate toward the classics—Austen, Brontë, maybe Tolkien. But you went with … cake.”
Ezra tilts his head, studying me like I’m a puzzle missing half its pieces.
“Tell me, Aurora … do you bake?”
I’m just full of surprises, Mr. Aster. Hope you can keep up.
“Uh, no, not really. I’m an okay cook but a horrible baker,” I say distractedly, while I plop myself on the floor and open the front cover.
“Hm.” Ezra takes a moment to consider my response. Seeing this man confused is more amusing than it should be.
“May I ask why you chose this book, then?”
He seems genuinely curious, which throws me into a panic because I don’t have an intelligent or deep reason for my choice.
When I lick my lips, Ezra’s stormy eyes slip down to my mouth. Suddenly, all I want to do is run my tongue over the hard ridges of what I’m assuming is a beautiful body.
“Um, I don’t really have a reason. Sometimes I just … wait. If I’m patient, the right book always finds me.”
I keep my eyes glued to the little green book while my face turns several shades of red.
But my embarrassment quickly fades when I begin flipping through the pages, pausing here and there to admire the skillful artwork and carefully detailed directions.
I can almost smell the cakes baking and feel the sticky sugar on my fingers.
When I finally reach the end, I realize I’ve spent the better part of an hour in silence, drooling over this book.
I’m surprised to find Ezra sitting on the floor beside me. He’s discarded his suit jacket, leaving him in a vest and a crisp white button-up shirt.
The strange man watches me with a dreamy expression that seems completely out of character for him.
“Oh shit. I’m sorry, Ezra. You should have said something! I’m sure you’re a busy man. I can come back another day to finish the tour if you have other things to do.”
I hug the little book to my chest and push to my feet, trying not to look as flustered as I feel.
But Ezra’s faster.
One moment, he’s beside me. The next, he’s standing in my way, his voice weaving through my ribs and settling deep.
“I have all evening, Aurora, and I must admit your unique view of books has me curious to know more about you. The look of ecstasy on your face while you studied that book was a work of art. I could have watched you all night.”
My face burns hot when I hand the book back to him, then watch his quick, silent movements as he locks the book back in its case.
When Ezra turns around, I watch the shadows dance and twist across his beautiful, sharp features. If my hormones would fucking cool it for one goddamn second, I would ask about theplayful shadows. But his voice has me frozen in place with a pathetic ache pulsing between my thighs.
