“Any others, darling?” His voice turns rougher as his fingers tighten on my waist. “Because I’m afraid I can’t sit like this much longer and keep my hands to myself.”
Ezra presses his hips up, dragging me across his still-straining cock.
I bite my lip to keep from moaning, breath hitching uselessly in my throat.
Fuck.
I wrap my arms around his neck, trying desperately to control myself.
“One more question. Why do you look likethis?”
I gesture at all of him, biting my lip to keep from blurting out all the shit I really want to say.
Because …goddamn. The man is reality’s pièce de resistance.
A slow, wicked grin spreads across his face.
“Ah, so you’ve noticed how handsome I am.”
His shadows preen behind him, my unspoken compliment making them twist with pure joy.
Apparently, they’re fucking dorks, too.
“I took exceptional care crafting this body,” he says, completely serious. “I consider it some of my finest work.”
That’s it. That’s the whole explanation.
I squint at him. “No, but actually.”
Ezra hums again, and I get the feeling no one’s ever asked him these questions before.
“I’ve known many humans, underborne, and erevald.” He pauses, like he’s remembering all of them. “I chose features I found beautiful and created … me.”
He studies me now, his gaze dark and devout. “I would have chosen your eyes if I had known you then. They’re a miracle.”
My heart stutters. At this rate, the man is going to give me a heart attack before I’m thirty.
“And before you ask, yes.” He leans in, nipping at my bottom lip. “I chose my physique. And my dick size.”
His fingers ghost down my throat then across my chest, heat following close behind.
“Which I hope is to your liking.”
What the hell is lodged in my throat that’s suddenly making it so hard to swallow?
“And the tattoos?” I ask, trying to keep us both focused.
Ezra hums again, deep in thought, while I daydream of licking his throat just to feel the vibrations.
“Those are a different matter,” he says, choosing his words with care.
“I’ve had those since I learned how to shift into solid forms. Tattoos like mine mark my ability to shift. Most underborne have one tattoo, big or small, that reflects the form they can shift into.”
His shadows curl along his forearm, almost displaying the ink for me, pride wriggling through their inky little bodies.
“But I’ve never met anyone with as many tattoos as me.”
Ezra’s voice drops, emotion scraping rough against his throat.
