The kiss deepens, the controlled patience giving way to desperation. His tongue traces the seam of my lips, seeking entrance that I have neither the strength nor the desire to deny.
I open to him, allowing him to claim my mouth as he’s claimed every other part of me, with the absolute conviction that I’m already his.
His hand finds the box I still clutch between us, removing it and placing it off to the side.
“Later,” he promises against my lips. “We have time.”
And for once, I allow myself to believe.
13
Ezra works my buttons open, each one coming undone with such deliberate care that it leaves me trembling. I’m more exposed now than I’ve ever been, not just from the slow revelation of skin, but from the way his eyes hold mine, refusing to let me retreat into the safety of another persona.
Ezra sees me in a way no one has since my grandpa was taken away, and he’s determined to strip me bare of every single one of my defenses.
When tears spill over from being overwhelmed, he soothes me with gentle kisses as he pushes Knox’s jacket from my shoulders. He tosses it to the floor with a whisper of expensive fabric, and he untangles my tie from my neck with a slow drag that goes straight to my groin.
The tie joins my jacket on the floor. “Stop thinking so much.”
“Force of habit.” The words choke off on a moan as his hands slide beneath my shirt, palms warm on my bare skin.
Ezra leans down, his lips brushing my ear. “Break it.”
My breath stutters as he removes my vest, then unbuttons my shirt with the same unhurried motions, each inch of exposed skin claimed by his mouth. The heat of his tongue tracespatterns that have my muscles jumping and my legs shifting restlessly on either side of his hips. I reach for his clothes, needing to ground myself in the distraction of undressing him, but he catches my wrists in one strong hand, pinning them above my head.
“Not yet.” His free hand continues its work, spreading my shirt open to reveal my chest. “I want to see all of you.”
I tremble beneath the heat of his stare, burning through every defense I’ve spent a lifetime perfecting. For so long, I’ve hidden behind fabricated identities, wearing their masks so convincingly that I painted right over myself. Now, with Ezra tracing every inch of unveiled skin, I feel like a forgery under scrutiny, stripped bare by the most unforgiving authenticator.
Will I pass? Will he find me wanting?
His mouth finds my neck, teeth grazing sensitive skin, and my thoughts dissolve into sensation. He works his way down my body, cataloging every reaction, every small gasp and shiver. My belt pulls free with a slither that leaves me shuddering, and then my shoes are tugged off. They thud onto the floor just before my pants join the growing pile of discarded clothing. All the barriers I hide behind now lie in a jumbled mess on the floor, leaving me fully exposed.
When I lie naked beneath him, my heart pounds with equal parts fear and desire. Ezra stands to remove his clothes, the smooth efficiency of his movements betraying his impatience despite the restraint with which he divested me of my armor. The lamplight catches in his hair and on the intricate lines of his tattoos as he reveals the masterpiece of his body.
He returns to the bed, bare body sliding over mine, and electricity races through my veins.
His weight settles between my thighs, his hands framing my face, forcing me to face him head-on. “Stay with me. Don’t disappear inside your head.”
As he grinds our hard cocks together, the friction of our bodies draws a moan from deep in my chest. Ezra’s hand slides between us, wrapping around both our lengths, and my back arches off the bed at the pleasure.
“Ezra—” His name falls from my lips on a desperate moan.
“I’ve got you.” His hand leaves my dick to delve lower between my legs, finding my already slick entrance. “I’ve always had you, even when you thought you were running.”
His fingers breach the tight ring of muscles with the same deliberate patience he’s shown all night. My body opens for him, muscle memory recalling the pleasure his touch brings, reminding me how perfectly we fit together despite all the reasons we shouldn’t.
I gasp as he finds that spot inside me, and pressure builds at the base of my spine, my slick thickening with each careful stroke. My nails dig into his shoulders, leaving half-moon indentations in his flesh.
“Please,” I whisper, pride abandoned along with pretense.
Ezra replaces his fingers with the blunt head of his cock, pushing forward with an exquisite slowness that borders on torture. My legs wrap around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back as I try to urge him deeper.
He captures my wrists again, pinning them beside my head as he establishes a rhythm that leaves me breathless. Each controlled rock of his hips, each rub of his abdomen over my hard dick, is designed to bring me to the edge without allowing me to fall.
His focus never leaves me, cataloguing every flicker of emotion across my face, adjusting his pace when my breathing quickens, waiting for me to calm before he starts over again.
I writhe beneath him, frustration at being denied my orgasm bringing tears to my eyes. “Ezra, please.”