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I laughed. His dark eyes roamed over me, and I tried my best not to squirm under his hot gaze. He reached out and stroked my cheek. His touch made me shiver slightly. This was the first time I’d been able to think since he’d kneeled down between my legs and sucked me through my underwear. My cheeks pinkened at the thought. I’d only slept with one man in my life, and he’d never done the things Ezra had.
Ezra’s fingers strayed away from my cheeks and caressed their way down my throat. I closed my eyes enjoying the lightness of his touch until I felt him brushing over my scar. The action immediately caused me to tense. “What happened?” he asked.
I jerked upward, breaking the moment between us. I hadn’t thought that Ezra would ask about the scar on my chest. I felt silly now thinking that. He was a prosecutor, so odds were that he’d seen gunshot wounds before, and this one was bad.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” I said, pulling the sheet up.
Ezra released a heavy sigh and sat up as well. He turned his attention on me, and I felt as though he could see all the lies, I told on my skin. “Someone shot you,” he said, plainly.
My mouth dried, and I felt myself go cold. Since Ezra, I hadn’t had the nightmares that had plagued me for the last year. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I whispered.
I prayed that Ezra would just let it go, but Ezra is the type of man who is used to getting his way. Unlike Nikolai who would use force and pain to get what he desired, Ezra used manipulation and pleasure.
His fingers crawled under the covers and stroked the inside of my thigh. My breath caught in my throat. “Stop,” I ordered, grabbing his hand. “Don’t manipulate me.”
I threw back the covers and slid out of bed.
Ezra released a heavy sigh of frustration. “Where are you going?” he asked. I could tell he was irritated, but I didn’t care. Just because we’d had sex, did not mean that he owned me. My secrets were my own, and I chose when to share them or not.
“I need to get home.” I looked around for my dress and tried not to wince as I put pressure on my ankle.
Ezra got out of bed. I looked over to where he was standing, gloriously naked, and holding onto my clothes. “Give those to me,” I ordered, storming forward.
“No.”
I reached out, intent to yank them away, but he just held them over my head. “Give me my clothes, Ezra.”
“No.”
I wanted to kick him in the balls, but I knew that wouldn’t get me anywhere. Ezra was a powerful man. He’d never physically hurt me, but I knew he’d defend himself. My scar twinged slightly as I remembered what happened to me the last time a man ‘defended’ himself against me.
“Fine,” I huffed. I grabbed the sheet off the bed and rolled it around my body. “I’ll leave like this. What do you think the press will say when they see me fleeing your apartment in a sheet?”
Ezra’s eyes sparked, and for a moment, I wondered if I’d pushed him too far. After all, becoming mayor was the one thing he cared about.
“You wouldn’t do that,” he told me, his tone flat. “I know you.”
“You don’t know shit about me!” I yelled. His words pissed me off, and I could feel all the anger I’d carried over the last year building in my best. “Don’t think that because we fucked that you suddenly know me.”
He shook his head. “I know you because I watch you. I can’t stop fucking watching you. I can’t stop wanting to know what goes on in that head of yours.”
His words were too much, and I was starting to feel as though the walls were caving in on me. “Please,” I muttered. “Please just give me my clothes, and I can leave. You can tell your mother that you’re done with me, and we can both move on from this ridiculous plan.”
Ezra shook his head. There was an eerie calmness in him that set me on edge. “No.” He threw the dress on the bed and walked towards me. Before I could stop him, he gathered me in his arms, pressing my body against his warm, firm skin. “You’re under my skin, and I’m under yours. I’ll never move on from this.”
His words were raw, and I felt my body tensing. His lips crashed down on mine, and I though I wanted to push him away, I couldn’t. As our tongues clashed, I felt Ezra pulling the sheet from my body. His fingers pressed into the junction of my thighs, and I moaned against his lips as he slid two inside.
“I can’t,” I moaned out, and I wasn’t sure if I was telling him that I couldn’t give him the information he wanted, or that I was too sensitive for more sex. Either way, Ezra wasn’t listening. His fingers pressed inside of me, igniting the flame that he’d lit hours ago.
“I’m inside of you,” he told me. “My body. My cum. My fucking soul.” His tongue reached out to caress my ear, and I shuddered. His fingers found the spot that made me clench in desire.
“You don’t own me,” I moaned out, even as I rode his fingers to the ecstasy that was just out of reach. “You’ll never own me.”
He chuckled before pressing his thumb against my clit. It was too much and just enough. I felt myself tumbling into oblivion.
* * *
I’d fallen into a deep sleep after my last orgasm. I’d tried to repay the favor, but Ezra wouldn’t let me. He’d led me back into bed, saying nothing more about the scar or what happened between us.
