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Half laughing, I shoved my phone into my pocket, expecting the phone to ring again. The silence was strangely deafening. When it didn’t ring after a few minutes, I yanked out my phone again, doing the same thing I’d done three nights before. Stare and wonder.
As a cold shiver drifted down my spine, I had no doubt he’d call again.
* * *
“Why am I your salvation?” I demanded as soon as I picked up the phone. Another three days had passed, his call waiting until after midnight. After chastising myself for allowing the calls to last for far too long, I’d made a nonemergency call to the police, curious as to what they could do. It would seem someone saying they were coming for me didn’t register as a threat, let alone that the calls had been very short, likely untraceable. They’d encouraged me to change my number.
And watch my back.
“Do you not believe you’re capable of delivering someone from the penalty of sin?”
I thought about his question and was curiously intrigued. “Engaging in sin is a personal choice. There is no one capable of delivering anyone from the penalties required if the act is violent or heinous.”
“But what if it’s from indulgence in the art of dark proclivities?” There was a strange profoundness in his words, although I couldn’t put my finger on why.
“Then that would depend on if both parties are interested.” Why was I talking to him? This had turned from a stalker trying to get my attention to something far too personal. What if he knew where I lived?
“An excellent point, Sierra. However, it is often that someone doesn’t know what they need until they are forced into the experience. I’m certain you’ve realized that given our frank and delicious conversations.”
I dragged my tongue across my lips, realizing the discussion was going in a place that I couldn’t allow. “That would depend entirely on trust and there’s no chance I can trust you. None. Don’t fool yourself. This is all about getting your rocks off and I want no part of it any longer.” I felt a strange pull to the man, as if we were already connected. It was uncomfortable but at the same time exciting.
He laughed, deep and throaty, the huskiness of it coursing through my veins. “Trust is earned, my sweet. When it’s broken, there is often no ability to reconnect the electricity a second time. There’s only a need for an entirely different level of satisfaction.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning there is a very thin line between love and hate. I hope our relationship doesn’t reach that point.”
I swallowed, moving toward the front room, the darkness luring me to the window overlooking the busy street. There were enough lights from other businesses and overhead to give me a pristine view of the area. Sadly, with the number of people going in and out of restaurants and bars, it was impossible to tell whether anyone was watching the bistro. Maybe if I got his name, I’d have more luck with the police. “You have the advantage of knowing my name, but I don’t know yours. That doesn’t seem fair in an effort to build trust.”
“You are highly intelligent, Sierra, a woman who thrives on being organized, everything in its place. However, you also crave the darkness, someone who will guide you through the vast emporium of unbridled desire. My name is not important, only what I offer.”
I closed my eyes, loathing the way my body reacted, my nipples fully aroused, the thin lace of my bra adding to the aching and need. “And what are you offering?”
He hesitated, his breathing labored. “Rapture.”
With that, the call was dropped.
* * *
“I finally wore you down,” Clarice said, although the tone of her voice reminded me of a purring kitten. She oozed sex appeal in her attire and mannerisms, drawing every male’s attention the moment she walked into a room. I’d never been so self-confident, unless it was about business.
I’d buried myself in the success of Corks and Books, even though in the back of my mind I’d known it was nothing more than a way of keeping my mind active. Avoidance, my friends had called it. ‘Refusal to engage in a life you deserve to live,’ I’d heard more than once.
“I wanted to come to dinner,” I assured them, glaring at Dierdre when she laughed. One week had passed since I’d heard from the dark stranger. Every minute of those seven days I’d wondered if or when he’d call again. Every phone call I’d received I’d jumped nearly out of my skin, breathless with anticipation. What was disturbing was that I’d been disappointed when I hadn’t seen a blocked number appear on the screen.
“Girlfriend, do you remember the last time we were out together?” Clarice asked as she swirled her margarita, her eyes constantly roaming the man candy in the restaurant. My friend had purposely selected the spot noted in the latestRaleigh City Lifemagazine as the hot and happening pickup spot in the city. They’d been trying to fix me up with whatever Tom, Dick, or Harry they thought would be a good fit.
I’d been on seven blind dates in two years, every one of them at their insistence.
“I remember,” I huffed, yanking the margarita into my hand, sloshing some over the side. “Okay, so it was three months ago.”
The two women looked at each other and laughed. “Try seven,” Clarice corrected.
I rolled my eyes but realized they were right. I needed to get out more, even if only with friends.
“We need to find you one hot stud, at least for a single night,” Dierdre added.
As I leaned over the table, I slowly glanced from one to the other. “Let me think. Who was the last perfect stud? Oh, yes. Jonathan. Wasn’t that his name? An accountant for whatever large firm. I honestly never believed accountants enjoyed talking numbers, but that’s what he did through the entire dinner. And the man wore suspenders.”
