Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
EZRA
T he aftermath of our time together still has Cara a little dazed.
She doesn’t protest as I carry her up to her room, cradled against me in a marital hold, her cheek resting on my shoulder.
Her soft, sated exhales are the only sounds accompanying us as I set her on the bathroom counter and start running a bath.
I undress her with unhurried ease, my gaze trailing appreciatively over every inch of skin revealed to me.
My fingers trace the warmth of her flushed body, revelling in it as she lets me move her to where I need her.
Tired exhales falling from between her swollen lips.
I silently curse my cock as it hardens in my trousers.
Completely bare, her clothes in a pile on the tiles, I lower Cara into the bath filled to the brim with bubbles that carry the familiar lavender scent of her.
I could climb in with her, the desire to do so spreads like wildfire south of my hips, but if I give in to that pull, I know the care she needs will be momentarily forgotten while I lose myself in her again.
I ring out the sodden flannel and gently swipe it over my bite mark on her shoulder, planting a chaste kiss in its wake before submerging the material beneath the surface of the water again.
I drag it up gently between her legs; she winces, but the small smile forming on her lips tells me the ache of where I’ve been isn’t the only feeling she’s experiencing.
“Too much?”
“Always enough,” she responds breathily, her gaze tracking between my lips and back up to my eyes as she shifts forward.
Her hand dips below the water to cover mine, holding me to her.
Her eyes glassy as her lips form an O. I allow her to press herself against my palm, revelling in her aftercare almost as much as I had pounding into her.
Almost —there’s nothing quite like fucking Cara Morgrieves raw.
The faraway expression brightening her rosy-cheeked face tugs at something inside my chest that hasn’t shifted in what feels like an eternity, something I thought I had lost.
“Bath then bed,” I say tersely. Leaving no wiggle room for her to argue.
“Yes sir,” she squeaks with a beaming sleepy grin, her fingers at her temples in salute.
“Teasing me won’t end well for you, Cara. You like having the ability to walk, right?” I canter my head, amusement flickering across my expression.
A sweet, amused laugh tumbles from her lips in response.
I had shown just enough of myself to Cara this evening, aware that anything more would likely break her.
The promise of fucking her so hard she’d be on the cusp of losing her mind isn’t an unwarranted one; I could feel the beast inside me clawing to break free and enjoy the spoils of her willing body.
But I’d move heaven and welcome hell before I’d let him loose on her.
Reaching over, she strokes the side of my face affectionately, and without thinking, I lean into it—chasing the immense comfort she doesn’t realise she’s giving me. “I trust you.”
Those three little words from her lips feel too heavy, a simple platitude that shouldn’t make my heart ache the way it is.
She tries to sharply tug her hand away from me.
The spark of horror eclipsing her carefree gaze from moments ago as she realises what she’s done.
I grip her wrist, coaxing her hand back and forcefully pressing it back against my cheek.
Her wide eyes dart to her prosthetic that she’s only now realising I’d removed and placed beside the sink with her gloves.
Seeing her without her prosthetic seems to be a step too far for her, and I yearn to settle her unease.
“Every inch of you is perfect, Red.” I never break eye contact with her as I lay a light kiss on each of her knuckles in turn. Silently imploring her to believe me.
Leaning in, her lower lip pulled between her teeth, I sigh as her fear of being so exposed settles, and her shoulders sag as the tension melts away.
Her lips hover a hair’s breadth from mine when she whispers, “Talking about perfect inches, you’ve got nine I’m intrigued to explore further. ” Her voice is a low, teasing purr.
The hearty laugh that barrels out of me as I get to my feet takes me by surprise, our playful exchange a world away from what I’m used to.
I flick water at her, and she squeals, wiping her face as she settles back against the tub, cheekily beaming up at me.
The bubbles barely do their job at covering the ample curves of her breasts, and I have the perfect bird’s eye view.
The nine inches she’s so determined to explore jolt below my waist, more than happy to let her have some fun with it as images of her on her knees, hollowing out her cheeks and taking me into her mouth fizzle at the edges of my last string of restraint.
“What have we discussed about teasing me, sweetheart? The desire to adjust your attitude isn’t solely sanctioned during our hunting sessions,” I warn.
“Duly noted, sir,” she sasses with a mock innocence, leaning into the sir , her two blue pools sparkling with mischief.
If there was ever the question of whether I’d like being called sir , consider it answered.
She lifts and extends her leg above the water, rubbing circles into her thigh as though she’s washing herself.
I glower at her as she continues to push my buttons, every move she makes piercing my dominant outer-shell like a bullet through glass.
“You practice that meanie glare in the mirror every morning, or is it all natural?” she presses—goading me into giving her what she wants.
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” I reply spiritedly, hauling her from the bath as she squeals wildly, uncaring as bath water flows over the sides out onto the floor around my booted feet.
Grabbing for a towel and pinning her over my shoulder caveman-style, I dig my fingers into the hollow of her hip closest to my face, nipping her skin with my teeth when she continues to buck against me.
“Ezra!” she barks, her warning holding little weight and doing nothing to chastise me as it mixes with a tittering giggle when I find her ticklish spot.
I swat at her arse cheek not branded with my name, not once, but twice; the ripple of her flesh and the pink tinge blooming there causing my dick to jump with excitement.
She has the audacity to pout theatrically when I drop her down at the foot of her bed.
“Arms up, sweetheart,” I instruct, and she complies, slowly raising her arms so I can wrap the towel around her.
Her pert nipples are begging to be teased.
The wicked glint in Cara’s eyes paired with the sly half smile spreading across her face alerts me to the fact that she knows exactly what she’s doing.
My plaything is feeling bold.
“It’s a fucking travesty to cover up this body, but if we don’t, I won’t be held responsible for my actions,” I state sternly, wrapping the towel around her and securing it.
“Ooh, colour me intrigued,” she replies, taking a step in my direction, gazing up with imploring doe eyes, our height difference even more apparent when she’s not wearing her boots.
Rising on her tiptoes, she lets the towel fall away, and I grunt at her lack of obedience.
“Oopsie,” she teases, zero genuine apology in her voice.
Do I want to fuck her? I’m insane not blind—of course I want to fuck her.
In a perfect world, I would spend the rest of eternity buried balls deep inside this woman, but for now, I need to care for her, I need to make right the damage I’ve already inflicted on her body.
I need her to know that she gets this side of me too.
Have I ever cared about someone this way?
I’m grateful I haven’t voiced the question because in all honesty, I don’t think I have ever cared for someone like this. I’ve never felt the drive to wonder how my presence, my touch—how any of it might affect another person.
‘You crave. You take. You ruin.’
I let the memory of my father’s words settle before I glance back down at the angel standing before me.
Tracing the line of her jaw, mesmerised with the flicker of heat that appears to skitter across her skin as she arches into my touch, I decide thoughts of my past are no longer welcome here with her.
She doesn’t deserve to be tainted by what I really am.
Because if I’m sure of anything, it’s that Cara could never look at me like this again if she knew the truth.
“On your knees on the bed, Red,” I order, and she doesn't hesitate, hopping up onto the comforter excitedly.
“Now we’re talking,” she caws, licking her lips, and that noise hits my ears again as my lips part.
The staccato thump of my heart that picks up pace when faced with this woman has a warmth filling my gut.
The curve of my smile tugs at my cheeks—it’s so effortlessly simple to be in her presence, to block out where we are and why I’m a prisoner here.
I revel in her purity, bathing for a time in her goodness before life as I know it comes crashing back down, because I know I can’t keep her, not forever like I want—not for an eternity like I’ve promised.
I don’t know how long it’d take, but I’d inevitably break Cara eventually; my harsh edges and broken psyche too much for anyone to bear.
So for this moment, I allow myself to merely exist here with her, in a state of unbridled happiness, where I get to believe that I’m the root cause of her joy.
I like this feeling.
Taking a step towards her, I spin two fingers in the air, motioning for her to turn around.
A breath hitches in her throat, a rosy flush accompanying the warmth in her eyes.
The enthusiasm illuminating her face dies away into a full-on sulking pout when I hold up the plasters and ointment from my pocket that I had taken from her bathroom cabinet.
“Spoilsport,” she counters but does as I’ve asked, shuffling around and wiggling her arse in the air. I clear my throat and silently beg my cock to calm the fuck down as it rages on all cylinders like a heat-seeking missile, direct coordinates leading home, right between Cara’s thighs.
“I look after what’s mine, Cara. Now lean forward, or I might just have to take a more forceful step to get you to do as I say.” My palm twitches around the ointment tube, aching to connect with her skin again, the other hand running through my mussed hair.
“I’ve got one perfectly good arse cheek, big boy, that isn’t nearly red enough; show me what you’ve got,” she taunts with a cheeky grin, looking over her shoulder at me.
I fumble with the lid, and Cara turns to face me, crawling to me seductively, every stunning inch of her bare body begging to be tasted as the soapy bathwater still clings to her flesh.
Done with the games, she squeals as I lift her up and throw her over my shoulder, swatting her good arse cheek when she wiggles as I put the tube lid between my teeth and yank it off, applying the cream to my name carved into her skin that I’m hoping scars nicely.
With the bandage plaster applied, I throw her back down on the bed, watching her with a longing smile as she rolls in her blankets giggling.
“It seems that manhandling you is the only way to get shit done around here, Red.”
“You’ll hear no complaints from me; I’m a big advocate for your powers of persuasion.”
“As I said: tease.” I make my way back to the bathroom to pull the plug on the bath and turn off the lights.
A sense of disbelief lingers at the normalcy of this moment as it hits me square in the chest. I watch her throw on an oversized t-shirt and scramble under her covers to get comfortable, leaving a space wide enough to fit me when she snuggles into the pillows on the far side.
“Is that?” I ask, brows furrowed as I see a flash of the Blackwood Asylum logo printed on the back of the t-shirt. My t-shirt.
“It’s amazing all the hidey-holes hidden away in this place.
Would you believe there is a secret room just behind that mirror?
” She beams with faux shock etched into her features.
Gesturing towards the two-way mirror that I’ve watched her through for the past two months.
Biting down on her lip to suppress a smirk.
I don’t say anything, I just smile right back at her. Sneaky Cara is a force to be reckoned with. She lays her head on her pillow, pulling up the fabric around the collar to her nose, inhaling my scent as though it offers her comfort.
I never let myself believe that I could one day feel this way.
To truly understand what I've been missing. To have for the moment, at least, someone like her.