Ezra doesn’t do relationships. He doesn’t do love. He’s made that clear from the start, and I was fine with that. I was on board with just having fun and this being nothing serious.
But now ... now, I think I could want both with him.
After a few moments Ezra pulls away, blinking quickly, but I see the moisture in his gaze anyway.
“Sorry,” he says. “I just ...”
But he doesn’t finish his sentence, and he doesn’t need to. I understand it all the same.
“Don’t apologize. You’re not weak, you know. In fact, that thought has never crossed my mind in the almost two months that I’ve known you. The opposite, usually. Do you not know how many times you’ve carried me? Or how many times you’ve tossed me around your bed like it was nothing? And don’t even get me started on your stamina.”
He grins wolfishly. “It is pretty impressive, huh?”
“Careful, Ezra. Cocky looks good on you.”
“You look good on me too.”
I laugh, but it’s cut off with his kiss. His lips move against mine in a slow, sweet dance. There’s nothing rushed about it. Nothing urgent. We’re just kissing because we can’tnotkiss.
I’m acutely aware that we’re out in the open and anyone could see us, but I can’t find it in me to care.
I’m too swept up in the moment. Too swept up in him.
I fear it might always be that way.
Chapter Twenty-One
Ezra
You’re enough, Ezra. For me, you’re enough.
I didn’t know I needed to hear those words as badly as I did until Summer said them.
I’ve spent so long feeling weak after my labral tears, but maybe she’s right. I am not my injury. It’s just something that happened to me. It doesn’t have to define me. I don’t have to let it win.
“More cider?”
I shake my head at Odette. “No. I’m driving, so I’m a one-and-done kind of guy.”
“Suit yourself,” she says with a shrug. She pours another pint of Neutral Zone, then one of Glove Save for Noah, before settling back down at the counter.
“Thanks, Odie.” Noah presses a kiss to the side of her head, and while usually I’d be annoyed by all public displays, I don’t mind it as much as I typically do.
I know it’s because if Summer were here, I’d be doing the same thing.
“I’m starving,” Odette complains. “When is dinner being served?”
We’re gathered in Stick Taps waiting for Summer to put the finishing touches on her menu debut.
She showed it to me this morning after I woke her up with my tongue between her legs, because she was worried about what ordering would look like. She had nothing to panic over, though, because it looked perfect. It’s balanced with a mix of Pacific Northwest–themed dishes and more universal options, and I can’t fucking wait to try it all.
“She said ten more minutes.”
“Thatwasten minutes ago.” Odette groans. “I’ve been fasting for this all day.”
“That’s incredibly unhealthy,” I say, and she flips me off.
I chuckle, and her jaw drops.
