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Being around E.Z. brought me moments of happiness I never believed would be possible again. His flirting and teasing slowly brought me back to life, and I was beyond grateful for that. I was grateful for all his jokes and laughter. I wanted more of him. As much as he was willing to give me.
“It would be better if you were here with me,” I said when E.Z. didn’t move. My voice showed my nerves. I couldn’t quite help the quiver.
I scooted over and pulled back the covers, offering a smile. “We’re both wearing clothes. And I was practically in your lap five minutes ago,” I said as casually as I could manage. “Come distract me. I need some E.Z. time.”
I didn’t want to sleep. I knew what nightmares I would relive if I went to sleep thinking my own terrible thoughts. Real life would plague my dreams.
E.Z.’s white teeth peeked out slowly as a boyish grin grew, crinkling the skin at the corners of his eyes. His face was hands-down the most attractive part of an all-around stunning man. Not because it was handsome— his face was very handsome— but because it was vibrant and expressive.
E.Z. propped up a few pillows against the white-washed wooden headboard before sliding under the covers and leaning back, his head slightly elevated.
“Distract you, huh?” E.Z. teased, settling in.
I turned onto my side, facing him, and rested my head on his upper arm. I wrapped my arms around him, pressing against his side and wiggling to get comfortable. I breathed him in and felt better for it. Just being around E.Z. brought a lightness to my chest. Holding him and being held by him was something else entirely.
“Tell me a story. Get me out of my head.” And into yours, I added on silently. “You tell the best stories.”
“Kaia Sugar Plum,” E.Z. said, lifting his arm and allowing me to slide closer and lay my head against his chest. His arm curled around my back, pulling me tight and he rubbed soft, soothing caresses on my arms and shoulder with the other. “I’ve come to think I’ll do anything for you.”
“Thanks,” I laughed lightly. “Are you always the sweet talker?”
“Can’t help it if I speak the truth.” He smirked at me. “And I like seeing you smile, Kaia Starbear.”
I rewarded him with a slightly bigger smile. “E.Z., what’s with the nicknames?”
“What do you mean?” he asked, trying and failing to sound convincing.
“E.Z., really? You just called me Sugar Plum and Starbear, which I’m convinced it not a word. You know exactly what I mean by nicknames.” I playfully swatted his belly, leaving my hand to rest there.
“Oww. Fine. I’ll tell you. You’re quite the violent little thing, aren’t you?” E.Z. chuckled, soft and low.
His thigh turned out when he rolled slightly to face me. I lifted my leg over his to make room. His thigh was so much bigger than mine, thick and hard, the muscles evident even through the leggings.
“It’s something I’ve done for a while,” E.Z. said. I felt them shift against my inner leg as he moved to get comfortable. “My mom always associated nicknames with love. If she gave you a nickname, she liked you. No matter how terrible the name, if you had one, it was because she liked you in some way.” E.Z. grinned an outrageously cocky grin. “Kaia Button-nose.” He tapped said nose and chuckled.
My breasts were pressed to his side. They grew fuller and heavier when E.Z. chuckled, his chest shaking.
“So why don’t the guys have nicknames?”
“They do. They all do,” E.Z. said, his fingers tracing patterns on top of the hand resting on his stomach. He continued his caress to my shoulder, then slowly back down again.
“Why haven’t I heard them yet?” I asked, slightly breathless. Touching and being touched by E.Z. felt exhilarating. My skin tingled in the wake of his fingers.
“You used to call Elijah ‘Ash,’ just like the rest of us,” E.Z. said with a laugh. “I’m the mastermind behind that gem.”
I laughed.
“We picked out each other's friendship names. I was eight. He was going to have Fire, so Ash,” E.Z. continued. “To an eight-year-old, that was an epic name. I’ve since become more selective with my choices. Try a couple on for size. See what fits.”
I shifted my hand on E.Z.'s stomach and felt each defined muscle through his tunic. They flexed and hardened under my palm as his grip on my waist grew tighter. Encouraged, my fingers found every dip and ridge as I ran my palm up his chest. I wanted to explore everywhere. Touch everywhere and set it to memory.
His gaze was following my ministrations. I watched his face. His eyes darkened and his jaw locked, swallowing thickly.
“And Elijah picked E.Z.?” I asked.
“Ash could never come up with something that amazing. He picked Fresh. Like fresh air.” The disgust was evident in his voice.
I giggled, but it came out embarrassingly breathy and wanton sounding. E.Z.'s fingers were trailing up the curve of my neck, pushing into my hair. My eyes closed, and my head tipped back, pushing further into his fingers. Shivers were racing down my spine.
