Queen Move

“Can I come in?” I ask.

“Uh, sure. Yeah.” He steps back, allowing me entrance. A modern chandelier of wood and blown glass hangs from the foyer ceiling. There’s very little furniture in the sitting room off to the right – a couch and a television. A mismatched coffee table.

“You just moved in?” I ask, my question slicing through the tension.

“Few months ago. I didn’t want to choose the furniture…by myself.”

He holds my stare and I bite my bottom lip, look away. I’m always in control, but I feel completely out of my depth right now. What if he has found someone else? Even though Aiko seems to be with Chaz, who knows if Ezra remained single? He’s still staring at me, his eyes intense, alert. His posture, deceptively indolent, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. But there’s so much tension in his broad shoulders, in the tight muscles of his neck.

Unsure what to say next, I step farther down the hall to inspect photos on the wall. There’s a series of collages. The first holds pictures of Noah, as to be expected. Lots of them with Ezra and a baby girl who could only be Mai.

There’s no pain in my heart seeing her, at first swaddled in Ezra’s arms and then growing bigger, rounder. Eventually standing on her own, her smile bright with a few tiny teeth. There’s no jealousy or resentment. How could there be? With her midnight blue eyes, sulky-sweet mouth and dark curls, she’s so obviously, like Noah, an extension of Ezra.

And I fall in love with her on sight.

“She’s beautiful, Ez,” I breathe.

“She is.” He comes to stand beside me, slips his hand into mine. I squeeze his fingers, but still can’t look away from the little dark-haired cherub Noah holds like a priceless piece of art. Ezra runs a finger over a picture with both his children. “He’s great with her.”

I nod, still processing the strength of my response to his daughter. My eyes drift to a collage of photos on the wall beside the one with him and his kids. At first, I don’t recognize the two children in the photos. They’re obviously older pictures, not shiny and glossy like the others. It’s easily a dozen of them. A girl and a boy at the park, on swings. Riding bikes. Eating dinner, surrounded by family. And at the center, them as babies in a bathtub.

“It’s us.” I can only gather enough air to manage those words. “Ezra, it’s—”

“Us.” He smiles and points to the photos on the wall. In one, it’s a Saturday evening meal, one at my old house. Our parents are there, my father and mother holding hands. Kayla, Keith. Ezra and me.

“Where did you find these?”

“My mother’s attic, garage. She has a lot more. These were just some of my favorites.” He pauses, turns his head to stare at my profile. “Are you here to stay?”

I don’t look away from the two babies at the center of the collage, caught mid-splash in the tub. A lifetime. We’ve known each other all our lives, yet missed so much. Wasted so much time. Not anymore.

“If you still want me.”

The words have barely left my mouth. He pulls me into him, pushes me to the wall. His body cages mine, protective and aggressive at once. I slip my hand into a gap between the buttons of his shirt, finding velvet over stone beneath. He squeezes my ass with one hand and clasps my neck with the other, tipping my mouth up and open. His kiss is deep, craving, the press of his shoulders and chest and hips and thighs a delicious weight that pins me in place so he can take all he wants.

God, how I’ve missed this—missed him. The textures, the taste and scent of him. He feels and tastes and smells like mine. I reach between us to palm his cock, sliding my hand up and over the hard, extended length of him.

“Let me give you a tour of the house,” he pants into my neck. Grabbing my hand, he drags me up the stairs. “There’s a kitchen, a half bath, a rooftop patio and some other shit.”

He crosses the landing, rushes us down the hall to a large bedroom and pulls me into his arms.

“Tour’s over.”

I drop my forehead to his shoulder and laugh, trying to catch my breath. “I don’t get to see the rooftop patio?”

He sets his thumbs under my chin and pushes up until our gazes lock. “After.”

“After what?”

His eyes go black-blue and he

licks the arch of my neck, sucks my earlobe, cups my breast, brushing the nipple to hard life. He takes my mouth, the kiss a drugging, thorough exploration that makes my head spin.

“I want you so bad,” he says, his breath coming harshly. “My dick is telling me to take you right here on the spot.”

He gives me a head-to-toe heated perusal, licking his lips. “But you’re my gift. I also want to take my time unwrapping you, spreading you out on my bed.”

“As long as you’re inside me in the next five minutes, I don’t care which option you take. It’s been a long time, Ez. I need dick, not options.”