Chapter Eleven #3
I slide my hands from his hair to his jaw, spreading my fingers across his stubble.
He drops his hand and cups my hips. I become the aggressor, taking what I want.
Ezra reacted to my confession the way I had hoped.
I know he would never hurt me the way Bobbie did.
From the moment we met, my body and mind knew he was trustworthy, yet I’ve been hesitant.
The heat increases, and I roll my hips. His groan vibrates through me, and he glides his palms up my sides.
His thumbs graze the sides of my breasts, and I arch my back.
I have to pull away to catch a breath. He allows me a second before he takes over.
The kiss becomes fast and desperate. I move my hands from his face, and slide my fingers under the top of his shirt, gripping the edge of the fabric.
He’s hard, and I press against him, needing relief from the burning.
“Fuck,” he growls, jerking back. “A jaguar is walking to your door.”
“No.” I lick my lips and drop my forehead to his. “I need…”
“I know, baby.” He brushes my hair back and grips the side of my neck. “Me too.”
Haven knocks on the door.
I love her, but I want to hurt her.
Backing away and standing, I stare at Ezra. He grits his teeth, shifting on the seat, and I glance down. He’s as uncomfortable as I am.
“Rylee,” Haven calls out, and I shake my head.
“I’ll be on the balcony,” he says, standing stiffly, and I bite my lip. “Not funny, mate.”
“What?” I release my lip and widen my eyes. “Just a minute,” I say to Haven.
Ezra narrows his eyes. “You know what.” He turns and walks toward the glass doors. I wait until he walks through them before letting Haven inside.
“Are you okay?” she asks as she enters.
“Yes. Why wouldn’t I be?” I brush my hands down my shirt.
“I called, and you didn’t respond. Then I sent a text.” She walks toward the table.
“I must have left my phone in the bedroom after Heath messaged.” I shut the door.
“Is Ezra here?” she asks, lifting her eyebrows. She knows I don’t let just any man in my home.
“Yes.” I glance toward the balcony. “He’s outside.”
“Really?” she says slowly.
“Yes, really.” I walk to the table and close the lids of the containers. “Why is that so hard to believe?”
“Do you want a list of all the reasons?” she asks, tilting her head.
“No.” I bump my shoulder against hers. “I like him,” I whisper.
“I would hope so.” She leans her hip against the table, turning to face me. “Is he staying with you?”
“He wasn’t.” I exhale and mimic her position. “But I asked him to stay tonight.”
“That’s good.” She frowns. “Isn’t it?”
“Yes. I want him here. I won’t get into details, but his actions have shown me that I can trust him. Staying at the hotel is hard for him.” I pull out the chair and sit.
“And you,” she says softly.
“Yeah,” I whisper, and she pulls a chair close to mine. “I want to be around him all the time.”
“Have you…” She looks across the room. “Talked?”
“I told him just now over breakfast.” I laugh and rub my forehead. “He was eating pancakes, and I told him I was assaulted. Shit, it all came bursting out.”
“I don’t think there is a good time to tell someone that,” she mumbles, pulling my hand away. “It’s a big step for you. I know you don’t share. I’m glad you opened up to him.” She grips my hand.
“He’s been open and honest. I knew it needed to happen, yet I was afraid.” I sigh. “I feel lighter. He took it well, and we were moving on to more pleasant things when you showed up.” I wrinkle my nose. “What did you call it when I interrupted you and Remy?”
“Smushy,” she laughs.
“Yes, he left me smushy and wanting more.” I laugh with her.
“I have news for you…” She leans forward. “You are dreaming if you think he took it well. Nothing bad against you, but I can guarantee there is a storm in his gut. Even though they are dead, he needs to kill someone.”
“There isn’t anybody to kill.”
“Isn’t there?” she asks, lifting her brow.
“No—” My parents. How could I forget? “He’s going to find them,” I say softly.
“Yep.” She fiddles with the container. “Is the food still warm? We could eat and watch the show.”
“Show?” I frown.
“Yes. Your mate is wreaking vengeance on the parents who are a waste of skin,” she hisses, and I look at the door and then at her.
“I know any good mate would want to eliminate anyone who hurts the one meant for them.” The food lid pops, and she peeks inside.
“Remember, Hunter couldn’t let my dad get away with everything he did?
Ezra is the same, so I doubt he will let it go.
” She snags a sausage. “Did you tell him he could?” She takes a bite and runs her fingers over the holes in the wood.
“I didn’t say no. I was on his lap at the time, so it was hard to concentrate,” I mumble, staring at the damage Ezra’s claws caused.
“I bet,” she snorts with a mouth full of food. “Would you be upset if he kills them?” She licks her fingers.
“No.” I pick up my fork and take a sausage before she eats them all. “Why should I care what happens to them? Especially if what Bobbie said is true.”
“I don’t blame you.” She brushes her hands together. “Well, it’s a good thing you don’t care because Ezra is going to go hunting.” She grins and finds the pancakes.
Haven’s right; my family has been dead to me for years. If they helped Bobbie in any way, they deserve the wrath of my mate.
Why does the thought make me fall for him even more?