Page 41

“For now.”

His face changes.

The answer was crueler than I intended, but fear has been using my mouth for years.

Ezra comes closer. “You stopped touching me below the waist three months ago.”

I look at him.

“You stopped asking whether I wanted you because the answer frightened you,” he says.

“You were fading.”

“I’m still fading.” His voice stays soft.

That makes it worse.

“And today I can feel my whole body. Pepper is safe upstairs. Your alpha is shaking the walls, and you’re hiding in a ledger.”

“I’m not hiding.”

Ezra reaches for my belt. His fingers remain solid against the buckle. My breath leaves hard.

“You are,” he says.

I catch his wrist, but I don’t move it away. The bond hums between us, bruised and hungry. “I don’t want to lose you in the middle of this.”

“You lose me while standing still.”

That breaks what is left of my restraint. I pull him against me and kiss him. Ezra makes a rough sound into my mouth. His hands grip my shirt, and I back him against the desk hard enough to rattle the pen cup.

The kiss turns hungry fast, months of caution giving way beneath the pressure of Pepper’s heat, Ezra’s solidity, and every want I have trained myself to bury.

He opens my belt. I bite his lower lip. His cock is already hard when I reach inside his pants. He’s warm. Solid. Real beneath my palm. Ezra shudders and presses his forehead against mine.

“Still here,” I say.

“For the moment.”

“That’s enough.”

His eyes close.

I stroke him slowly, learning the weight again. His mouth finds my neck. His hand slips into my jeans and wraps around my cock with a confidence that makes my knees threaten to give.

For several strokes, everything is familiar.

Then his fingers cool. The pressure changes.

Part of his hand fades around me, leaving a strange trail of cold tingling along my shaft while the heel of his palm remains firm.

I freeze.

Ezra’s breath catches against my throat. “Don’t stop.”

“I can’t feel all of you.”

“You can feel some.” His voice is unsteady, but not afraid.