Total pages in book: 75
Estimated words: 71647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 71647 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 358(@200wpm)___ 287(@250wpm)___ 239(@300wpm)
He shot a lopsided smile my way. “Fuck, you’re smart.”
“Thanks, but it’s more accurate to say that I know a lot about things that interest me. Like stars and planets,” I commented, lifting my chin to the heavens.
Ezra moved closer and traced my jawline. “What did Shakespeare have to say about the stars?”
“A lot,” I chuckled, quoting Hamlet. “ ‘What should such fellows as I do crawling between earth and heaven?’ We’re always looking for meaning to this mystery. Why are we here? What is our purpose?”
He kissed my ear. “What’s the answer?”
“I have no idea.” I sighed when he nuzzled my neck.
Ezra pushed back slightly and held my chin until I met his gaze. I swallowed hard, aware of every little evening noise—the rustle of crawling critters in the ivy, the chirp of crickets, the hum of traffic on the main street. At the same time, I felt a bubble close around us…as if we were the only two people on the planet. It was funny to feel part of something bigger and yet completely separate with Ezra as my lifeline.
Ezra. With his intense brown eyes and mesmerized expression. He didn’t have to say a word. I could feel need and heat brimming to the surface. He licked his lips hungrily but otherwise didn’t move a muscle. He reminded me of a lion poised to strike at just the right—
Bam!
He crashed his mouth over mine, driving his tongue between my lips. And me? I practically leaped on top of him. I wound my arms around his neck and pressed myself as close to him as physically possible, moaning at the delicious feel of friction. It was like tossing a match into a vat of gasoline. We exploded in a sucking, grinding, hands-everywhere-at-once, desperate attempt to get closer.
It still wasn’t close enough. I pulled his shirt from his jeans, splaying my hands over his broad back, loving the feel of his warm, big body. I couldn’t believe I’d ever thought he was too big or too much of anything. He was perfect. Perfect for me.
He fit me like no one ever had. Not even Sar—
I broke for air with a gasp but didn’t step away.
“You okay?” he hummed, nibbling my bottom lip.
I nodded. “Yes, but…this isn’t—we should go home.”
Ezra brushed his nose along my cheek. “Let’s go.”
8
EZRA
Streetlights whizzed like technicolor brushstrokes on my drive home. I cruised Colorado Boulevard on autopilot, barely cognizant of the Guns N’ Roses rock ballad humming through my speakers. Patience. Yeah, I didn’t have much of that virtue on my best days, and I definitely didn’t have much now. Heat thrummed through my veins like some kind of internal meter urging me to go faster.
I felt that way on the field sometimes when instincts took over and my only job was to act, move, run. Real life didn’t work that way. I spent so much time lately with books or at a computer that I’d almost forgotten how fucking life-affirming it was to just go with my gut.
And a little scary too. I’d never felt this level of immediate need for another human in my life. I wanted Holden. I needed him.
I parked at the curb, checking to be sure Tommy’s and Cole’s cars were gone before heading for the house with my keys at the ready. Holden pulled into the driveway just as the lock clicked open. The sound of his footsteps on the pavement echoed my heartbeat. I couldn’t hear much over the roar of blood rushing to my head, so I concentrated on him—his sleek form, sure movement, and the ghost of a smile on his full lips.
The porch light cast a long shadow over his face when he finally joined me. He was all angles and edges. No soft curves, no hesitation.
I opened the door and laced my fingers with his, pulling him into the pitch-dark foyer. I was on him the second the door closed, backing him against the wall as I shoved my tongue down his throat and pulled his shirt loose in a manic quest for skin. Holden dropped his bag on the floor and hooked a leg over my thigh, moaning aloud when I grazed my thumb over his nipples and raked my nails along his sides. He squeezed my ass and humped me like a wild animal.
“Upstairs,” I panted.
The stairs creaked under our weight and the ancient floorboards shifted as we hurried to my room in the dark. I turned the lock, switched on my desk lamp, and reached for him again. Our tongues tangled as we fumbled with belts and zippers. I freed myself, then yanked his boxer briefs over his cock and closed my fist around his base, resting my forehead on his for a moment to catch my breath.
When I was sure I could move without trembling, I lined our cocks up and stroked us together. We’d done this a few times over the past couple of weeks, and it never got old.