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He lunges forward and has me on my back before I can finish the question, a small shriek tearing from my lips.
When his eyes drop to study my mouth, I know exactly what’s on his mind. Sadly, it won’t fix anything.
“I’m still mad at you for using sex against me at the cabin.”
He cocks a brow at that, but his stare doesn’t move from my lips.
“I said I’m sorry.”
When Ezra rocks his hips between my legs, I can’t help the heat spreading through me. He’s addictive, this man. And toxic.
“So you want to fuck for twenty-four hours?”
His grin stretches wider, his beautiful eyes flicking up to mine.
“It’s not a bad plan, but no.”
I sigh, the strength draining out of me that I have to wrestle back.
With one look, Ezra can disarm me, make me forget. If I could climb inside him and fix all the broken parts, I would. But it’s something he needs to fix on his own.
Wiggling to pull away, I shoot him a look when his hands tighten down on me, but he lets me go, both of us straightening up to sit facing each other.
“What would twenty-four hours give us? I mean, really? No matter what we do, or what we say, we end up in the same place.”
Something unsaid rolls through his expression. Pain, maybe. Anger.
Maybe there is no word for it.
No, wait. There is.
Defeat.
The only question is whether he can accept it this time, or if he’ll fight.
There’s no question in my mind that Ezra would destroy everything in his path if he thought it would lead us to the end he wants.
He’s so strong. Not just in body, but in mind and heart. It’s fair to say he’s stubborn to a fault. But he’s also Violence, the name he carries in the group so right for him that it hurts.
He would rather destroy the world - destroy himself - than admit he can’t have everything he wants.
Not that he wants bad things.
It’s fair to love a person and want them.
It’s fair to want to protect the people you love.
But what’s not fair is the belief you have to carry the responsibility for everything on your shoulders alone.
He surprises me when he finally says the one word neither of us have yet spoken.
“It gives us time to say goodbye. Without fighting. Without insults or accusations.” He laughs, the sound so sad it breaks my heart. “I wasted the last six weeks attacking you. Hurting you. Feeling hurt by you.”
Gritting his teeth, he stabs a hand through his hair.
“Fuck, I’m not good at this, but you know what I mean.”
Yeah, I do. And honestly I’m a little surprised to hear him admit it.
