Sitting on the bed, I watched him approach, my mouth dry.
He stopped between my knees, staring down at me with an unreadable expression. Hands rising, he gently cupped my jaw and tilted my face up. There were so many things I wanted to say to him that I couldn’t—and his eyes were full of unspoken words too.
He leaned down. Our lips brushed in a whisper-soft touch.
He inhaled. His mouth returned to mine. A brief, hungry press of his lips. He pulled back and breathed again as though debating, as though torn, drawn, doubting.
His mouth covered mine.
I grabbed his wrists and held on as he kissed me urgently. His mouth opened against mine, and I answered with parted lips. The hot slide of his tongue pierced me with heat, and air rushed from my lungs.
The bed dipped, his knee on the mattress between my thighs. My hands ran up his arms, fingertips dragging across taut muscles. Our mouths moved ceaselessly, lips and tongue, hard and insistent. Edged with need.
Edged with desperation.
I didn’t know I’d tipped backward until my back hit the blankets. He followed me down, elbows braced beside me, hands in my hair, mouth locked on mine. His body covered me, strong and hot and irresistible—and god, I’d wanted this, wanted to be under him so badly for so long.
I raked my hands across his bare shoulders as I pulled myself up into him. My legs wrapped around him, stronger than my arms, squeezing our bodies together.
A near-soundless groan rasped in his throat, and his weight pressed me into the bed. As his mouth closed over my neck, wet and ravenous, his hips rocked against mine, igniting my core. I tore my mouth from his to bite my bottom lip, stifling a moan. Need had reached an inferno pitch inside me, months of buildup combined with days of fear and anguish and the desperate drive to have all of him before … in case …
I dragged his face back up and kissed him again. More fiercely. More urgently. The empty ache between my legs intensified, the hard press of him through our clothes not enough—not nearly enough.
Our frenzy of kissing and roaming hands slowed. Deepened. His mouth savoring. The grind of his hips sweet, slow torture.
“Ezra,” I moaned in a faint, breathless whisper. “Can we … please?”
His lips softened, and he sucked gently on my lower lip before he lifted his head. “We …” His breath caught, voice hoarsening. “Not … not now. I can’t …”
I didn’t understand why he couldn’t or what was holding him back, but I didn’t argue. “Okay.”
We stared at each other—and I couldn’t stop myself from pulling his mouth back for one more inferno-stoking kiss. His weight came down on me in a fierce press of strength, muscle, and desire, and I locked my legs tighter around his hips, needing just a little more, a little more.
Braced against me, he pushed his face into my neck. “Shit, Tori.”
I squeezed my eyes shut, panting for air. With effort, I unclamped my arms and legs. Letting him go felt all wrong.
He pushed off me, stared insatiably at my heaving chest, then turned away. Shoulders moving with his own deep breaths, he sank onto the floor. While he leaned back against the bed, I remained sprawled across the mattress. Minutes slid past as my heart rate gradually calmed, my lungs slowing their greedy panting.
When we’d both recovered, he stood up. I scooched over, making room as he flipped the blankets back and slid into bed. He settled his head on his pillow, and I stretched out beside him, on top of the blankets where I couldn’t misbehave.
He’d left his sweatpants on. Pretty sure he didn’t normally sleep in them, but I could guess why he wasn’t removing them.
I swallowed hard, trying not to squirm against the slow heat rolling through me. I wouldn’t press him for more, or for an explanation. He was the one going through hell right now, and I wasn’t going to push his boundaries.
There were other things we needed to talk about—badly—but a soft silence that had fallen between us and I didn’t want to disturb it. The things I needed to tell him wouldn’t be fun, and I needed just a little longer.
Just a little longer before I faced the consequences of decisions I’d made weeks ago.
Chapter Five
“Tori. Tori.”
A hand roughly shook my shoulder, and I jerked my head up with a jagged inhale, bleary eyes scrunched. Had I fallen asleep?
Ezra was sitting up in bed beside me, the blankets pooled in his lap. My attention caught on his bare chest, delaying the moment when I got my gaze up to his face.
Burning crimson eyes stared down at me.
Fear jolted through my gut, and I sat up with a curse. “Crap, sorry. I didn’t mean to drift off.”
Eterran’s mouth thinned with displeasure. “We don’t have long. He isn’t sleeping deeply—too restless. I wonder why?” he added mockingly.
“Butt out. You might be sharing his body, but you don’t need to be a perv about it.” I straightened my shirt, reminding myself to keep my voice low and soothing so Ezra didn’t wake up.
Eterran watched me, too still and predatory, his glowing stare devoid of Ezra’s warmth. I hated seeing the demon in his face.
“All right,” I whispered in a businesslike tone. “Our plan. Two parts—the amulet and the summoner.”
“The amulet may be all we need.”
“But it might not get your body back,” I countered fiercely. “That’s our goal. Not to give you control of Ezra’s body, but to free you both. To do that, we need to know how you two are bound together—exactly how. And we need to know exactly how that amulet works.”
His jaw tightened.
“After our last talk,” I told him, “I spoke with Darius. He’s going to wait to act. So are Aaron and Kai. You and Ezra just need to focus on keeping calm and levelheaded while we figure this out.”
“Are we leaving soon?” The faintest shadow of fear touched his cold expression. “Every day counts.”
“Tomorrow morning.” I rubbed my hands together nervously. “You said last time that the summoner who turned Ezra into a demon mage died during the Enright extermination.”
“Along with all the others.”
“But you’re sure the summoner’s grimoire is still in Enright?”
“I am not sure.” He rested his elbows on his knees, hunching forward. “I was summoned first into a circle, and during that time, I observed everything. There was a hidden room beneath the ritual area—the summoner’s lair. I could hear faint noises through the ground. When we returned after the extermination, that hidden place hadn’t been uncovered.”
“But that was eight years ago.”
“Why would anyone excavate the ruins?”
“Good point. But would the summoner have left anything down there?”
“The group,” Eterran sneered, “treated summoning and rituals as performances. Their leaders shared a large, ornate grimoire. It contained all their rituals and spells.”
I puffed out a breath. “So it wasn’t a personal grimoire. There’s a good chance, then, they stored it in the ‘lair.’”
“That is my thought. If it isn’t there, you may find other information.”