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“Tell me you wouldn’t be with me if none of the barriers existed. If it wouldn’t hurt Damon. If you weren’t engaged to Mason. If there was nothing standing in our way, would you still refuse to give this a chance?”
Breath shudders from my lungs when he moves his hands to hold my wrist in one while brushing the hair from my face with the other.
His fingertips trail softly down the side of my face, a touch so gentle that I know he’s worshipping me, treating me like I’m the most precious gift this fucked up life has given him.
Ezra’s thumb presses to my lips, a silent reminder of the secrets we told each other, of his promise to protect me, of the surrender I’ve always given him in return, even when I didn’t know that was what I was giving him.
Pushing past my lips, he runs the pad of his thumb over the sharp edges of my teeth, breath bursting from his lips when I bite down.
A growl low in his chest, his hips rocking again, slow and hard.
“That‘s my girl,” he whispers against my ear. “Hurt me as much as you want. But it won’t chase me away.”
Another shiver races down my spine as heat blooms in all my forbidden places, my insides clenching tight in need of what he gives me.
“Always my queen,” he murmurs, an idle observation and nothing more.
I laugh at that. “I’m hardly a queen.”
Low male laughter bursts against my cheek.
“You have no idea what you are. What you’ve always been.”
I shake my head, but my back arches when I feel the ridge of his erection between my legs.
“I’m weak.”
More low laughter.
“You’ve held my leash since the night you kissed the bruises on my chest. And it wasn’t the tenderness that tamed me. It was the violence in your eyes. The rage.”
His hand sweeps down my body, brushing the side of my breast before he grips his fingers on my hip to hold my body still beneath him.
It’s just like Ezra to control this dance. To tease me with ironclad patience until I’m begging for more.
“I’ve been on my knees at your feet for ten long years, killer. And only a woman who stands as strong and tall as you is worthy of that type of devotion.”
Memories assault me. So many bursting to life in my head. Ezra used to watch me all the time when we were in school. Study me. Even from across crowded rooms, Ezra held me in place by an amber stare that called to me on a sensual whisper.
I always assumed it was because he enjoyed trapping me in place. I never imagined it was because I’d trapped him.
“But that still fixes nothing-“
My back arches, and my thoughts are lost when he rubs his cock hard between my legs, his hand sneaking up my shirt to take possessive hold of my breast. Pinching my nipple from over my bra, he nips at my throat when I arch into the pain.
“You let me take care of the details, Em. Just make me a promise again, and this time, keep it.”
His eyes lift to capture mine, so much pain swirling behind them. Years of it. But within the regret, the sorrow, and the battle he will never stop fighting, I see something in his eyes I haven’t seen since the night I first made him a promise.
I see hope.
And it rips the ground out from under me.
Ezra’s head drops to gently bite the side of my breast from over my shirt, his hips moving again in a slow caress that forces my eyes to flutter closed, wet heat blooming where our bodies meet.
“Promise to be mine.”
Moving to the other breast, he bites me again.
