He rumbles in approval. “Still taste the same under all the makeup.”
His thumb follows the path his tongue took, smearing the foundation I’d applied with painstaking care. The pad of his thumb comes away stained with flesh-colored cream, revealing my natural skin beneath.
“What are you doing?” I gasp out, unable to pull away despite every rational instinct that screams at me to run.
“Uncovering the truth.” His other thumb joins the first, both now working across my cheeks, my forehead, the bridge of my nose. “Did you think I wouldn’t recognize you? That I wouldn’t find you?”
Each stroke reveals more of what I’ve hidden, erasing Nico Duran and resurrecting the face Ezra used to trace with his fingers in the darkness of his bedroom.
I melt under his touch, boundaries dissolving as easily as the makeup he removes. My breathing grows shallow, each inhale filled with his pheromones, which have haunted my dreams every night since I left. The moment stretches between us, taut as a wire.
Then, survival instinct kicks in, and I wrench myself from his grasp, ducking under his arm. My hands shake as I back away, putting precious space between us.
But Aaiden’s study is only so large, and his body blocks the path to the door. I retreat to the desk, the mahogany cool through the thin fabric of my uniform pants.
Nowhere left to go.
Ezra advances, unhurried now, confident in his victory. My heart hammers, adrenaline flooding my system with fight-or-flight signals that have nowhere to discharge.
“You’re trembling.” He closes the distance between us once more. “Is it fear? Or anticipation?”
Both, I want to say, but the words stick in my throat.
He plants his hands on the desk on either side of me, boxing me in again with his body. His face hovers inches from mine, his scent engulfing me. Dizziness sweeps through me, overwhelmed by his proximity, by the memory of how those lips felt on my skin.
“What do I call you now?” His lips caress my ear, and a soft whimper escapes, my lashes fluttering. “Whose name should I moan when I’m inside you tonight?”
A shock of heat goes straight to my hips, my body responding to his words. Like the conclusion of tonight is already decided. Images flood my mind, tangled sheets, sweat-slicked skin, and Ezra’s weight pressing me into the mattress. My world tilts on its axis, reality blurring at the edges.
No. I can’t let this happen. Not again.
With strength born of desperation, I plant my palms on his chest and shove. The move catches him off guard, and he stumbles back just enough for me to slip to the side, putting the flimsy desk between us. But the heavy oak is insufficient protection from the force of nature that is Ezra Rockford.
My hands still tingle from the contact with his chest, the solid warmth of him beneath expensive fabric. “That’s not happening again.”
“No?” Ezra’s expression shifts, a predatory smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He tilts his head, studying me like I’m a puzzle he’s already solved. “Are you sure?”
I clench my jaw, refusing to answer. Refusing to admit how my body hums with want despite all my rational objections.
Ezra’s gaze trails down my body, lingering at my waist, then lower, and I feel it as a physical touch.
When he meets my eyes again, my stomach flips at the triumph in his expression. “Your body remembers me, even if you’re trying to forget.”
Ezra’s laugh ripples through the study, a wild sound that spreads heat through my hips. He stands opposite me across Aaiden’s desk, arms crossed over his chest, his stance casual, though he’s anything but. The smudged makeup on his thumb marks him like a painter who’s claimed his canvas. My canvas. My skin.
“It’s cute when you lie.” He pushes off from the desk and advances toward me again. “Or is this supposed to be role play? Do you want to pretend to resist?” The words wrap around me, a honeyed purr designed to lure me closer. “I can work with that if it’s what you need to give in.”
I back away until I hit the bookshelf again, trapped between leather-bound volumes and Ezra’s approaching form. “This isn’t a game.”
“No, it’s not.” Before I can react, his hand shoots out, cupping me through my uniform pants. The electric contact sends a shock racing up my spine and leaves me gasping. “Because we both know this has always been more than pretend.”
My body betrays me, hardening under his palm. A satisfied rumble vibrates from Ezra’s chest as he applies gentle pressure, remembering how to touch me from thirty-one nights spent learning each other’s bodies.
“Stop,” I whisper, but the protest lacks conviction. I should push him away, but my arms hang useless at my sides, fingertips tingling with the need to touch him back.
“Why?” His hand remains where it is, thumb tracing the outline of my hard dick and sending sparks dancing across my vision. “Give me one honest reason.”
I struggle to form coherent thoughts as his touch unravels me. The truth spills out before I can filter it. “I was older… I should have known better. You were too young.”
