Total pages in book: 140
Estimated words: 129207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129207 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 646(@200wpm)___ 517(@250wpm)___ 431(@300wpm)
I can’t help but laugh as I roll my eyes and head off down the hall. Ezra falls in step beside me, and when he takes my hand, lacing his fingers through mine, I don’t dare pull away. He loops our joined hands over my shoulder and pulls me in close beside him as we reach the elevator, only when it arrives and we’re closed inside, the shift in the air makes it almost impossible to breathe.
The tension rolls off us, and just as the elevator begins its descent, Ezra shifts beside me. I keep my eyes locked on his, watching him turn to face me, stepping in so close that we breathe the same air. His dark eyes are hooded and locked on mine as his hand takes my waist, sending the sweetest shiver sailing down my spine.
His darkened gaze drops to my lips as my chest rises and falls heavily, willing him to close the gap and kiss me.
God, I need him. That night two weeks ago in the pool wasn’t nearly enough. I need to feel him on me, his lips against mine, making me come alive.
The seconds tick by, and the tension grows so thick I can’t handle it another moment. His eyes are telling a story, a desperate plea for me to end his agony, to come around and finally give us the chance we deserve to start fresh, to give each other the love we so desperately crave.
His hand tightens on my waist, and as my heart booms like thunder in the deadliest storm, he begins to lean in.
I suck in a breath, and my hand involuntarily slides up his chest, preparing to claim him as my own. And just as I feel the slightest brush of his lips against mine—ding. The elevator arrives at the ground floor, and the door opens wide into the lobby where the concierge waits. “Mr. Knight. Miss Stone,” he says as I feel like a bucket of ice water has just been emptied over our heads. “Is there anything I can do for you? Reservations? A car?”
Ezra and I spring apart as though what we are doing is somehow wrong, and I watch as he offers the concierge a kind smile. “No, thank you. We’re okay. We’re going to walk.”
“Lovely,” the concierge responds. “It’s a beautiful evening for a stroll. Most of the fans and paparazzi seem to have cleared out.”
Ezra nods and as he glances back at me, he clears his throat before dropping his hand to my lower back. “Come on,” he murmurs before leading me out of the hotel lobby.
We walk in awkward silence as we step out into the street and find a few photographers that have lingered behind, but compared to the millions that were here earlier in the night, it seems somewhat peaceful.
Two girls rush up to us, beaming smiles across their faces as they shove band merch at Ezra with a Sharpie and giggle like idiots while begging for a picture. Ezra takes the merch from them almost on autopilot, signs it, and after letting them have their photo, they scurry away, leaving us to our night.
“That must get old,” I murmur as the street becomes silent.
He shrugs his shoulders. “Just part of the job, I suppose.”
“A shitty part.”
“Got that right,” he scoffs. “Axel was always the best at dealing with it. He always had time for fans, even the ones who wouldn’t get the hint to disappear.”
I laugh, remembering it so clearly. The few times I got to see him were always crazy. Fans would stalk us through stores, and by the time we’d finish anywhere, paparazzi had found us and were madly snapping pictures. It was insane, but Axel always had a smile across his face.
“I miss him,” I say with a heavy sigh.
Ezra’s arm falls around my shoulder, pulling me in just like he’d done in the hotel. “I know,” he murmurs. “Me too. Every fucking day.”
Silence falls around us, but this time there’s not a hint of awkwardness, just two people heavy in their own thoughts.
We make our way to the restaurant, and I’m not surprised to see Rock and Dylan already here, but when I spy Jett sitting at the table, irritation burns through me. “Really?” I mutter under my breath. “Why’s the tag along here?”
“Kind of a dick move not to invite him, don’t you think?” Ezra says. “Besides, it’s not like we can have a band dinner without him.”
“Sure. If this was a band dinner, but it’s not,” I say, hating how hostile I sound, but where Axel’s replacement is concerned, I can’t seem to help myself. “I thought it was just going to be us. Back at the show, you said just like old times.”
He peers down at me as we weave through the tables to get to ours. “Should I tell him to go?” he questions, raising his brow in challenge as if to see just how far I’ll push this.