Ezra
Oh shit.
My mouth goes dry like I swallowed a handful of sand. I have got to stop with these damn eye rolls. Damien is currently glaring down at me, his usual steely gaze on mine and burning hot like never before.
“Damien, please. Not here.” I plead, softening my voice, praying he will show me some sympathy, but if the hungry look in his eyes is any indication, I highly doubt he will be letting me off.
“Actually. You’re right. I can’t make you scream as boisterously as I want here without drawing too much attention, and its high time you got a taste of what an actual punishment feels like, Ezra. What I did to you before was foreplay…tonight I’m going to give you a glimpse of the beast himself, pretty girl.” He whispers, sucking my bottom lip and biting gently before he rolls off me. “After dinner, we’re going out, so be ready.”
I gulp.
“Where?” I question warily, and he only smirks ominously in response, and I already know I’m not going to like this at all.
I gasp when he tugs me on top of him and kisses me deeply, making my toes curl. I couldn’t fight the moan that escapes me. Damien is one hell of a kisser, no exaggeration.
I can easily place him at the top of my list. I could honestly orgasm just by kissing him. “Someplace private, I can punish you freely without any wandering eyes, and we can be as loud as we fucking want,” Damien murmurs in my mouth. I whimper when he grabs my ass cheeks hard, massaging and grinding his hips up against my already moist aching lady parts. “I’m going to claim you, pretty girl. I’m going fuck the soul right out of you.” Liquid heat pools in my belly and rushes straight down between my legs. I groan breathily. “Throughout dinner, the only thing you’ll be thinking about is what I’m going to do to you later.”
I pull back from our kiss, breathless, mind in a sexed-up haze. “Speaking of dinner…we should…shower and get ready; my father loathes to be kept waiting.”
Damien brushes his fingers through my hair and tugs me down to meet his waiting lips again before he whispers, “Let him wait.” We kiss passionately for a while longer and pull apart, panting. I hate that I have no might against him. Why can’t I just resist him?
Because you love him, you silly girl.
The neurotic voice in my mind chimes in, and I shake my head. “No,” I whisper before I could catch myself.
“No, what?” Damien frowns, looking up at me. I blink, look down and shift off him.
“Um, no, we shouldn’t make him…wait.” I stand up, and Damien leans up on his elbows and eyes me curiously.
“Ezra?”
“S-shower,” I whisper, “I need to um…shower.” I turn and leave the bedroom and walk toward the bathroom and close the door. I lean against it and close my eyes.
I don’t love him. I can’t be in love with him. What’s to love? The man is barren of any real emotions. He’s heartless and ruthless and—a professional killer—I can’t love a man like that.
I just can’t. I won’t. I deserve better than the likes of Damien Wolfe.
Come on, Ezra, the signs are all there. The feeling you get deep inside when you’re near him. Your heart races when he calls you baby. Why you can’t seem to say no to him, because you think he will break down those walls around his heart and love you back. Deep down, you’re terrified of losing him. Admit it; you’ve gone and fallen for him.
No! No, no, I haven’t, I haven’t! I hate him. I despise him. He’s just got me all hyped up on sex, that’s it. I move over to the sink and stare at myself in the mirror.
You’ve fallen for him.
“Shut up, just shut up,” I whisper furiously, cradling my head in my hands and shaking my head. I know my feelings; I know what love is and this isn’t love.
I push those thoughts out of my mind, and after we both shower, we go and have dinner with my parents.
* * *
It wasthe usual humdrum table talk, my father trying to pry information out of Damien, who was skillfully avoiding answering anything too personal.
“What about your parents, Damien?” My father asks, taking a bite of his fillet steak enchilada and chewing. I watch Damien closely; his hand was fisted so tight under the table I was worried his knuckles would split. His jaw is set tight, and he stares into his glass of pinot noir…hard.
I decided it was time to get him out of the hot seat. I knock over my glass of wine, and the glass smashes against the table. “Oh, shoot.” I gasp and stand from my seat and dab the napkin on the red wine all over the table. I reach for the pieces of glass.
“Ezra, leave it. Isobel!” My Father barks, and Isobel comes running forward. “Clean this up.”
“No, I got it. I can clean up my own mess.” I slice my finger on the large piece of glass and hiss when it stings. “Ow.” Damien jumps up and grabs my wrist and inspects my hand.