“Don’t deny me a simple pleasure, Ez,” I pout.
“If it’s pleasure you want, I could probably take one for the team.” It comes out so casually, like it’s nothing new. How many has he taken for the team? My cheeks heat, a flush warming me all over.
Leaning forward to grab a slice, he hisses in pain and drops back against the couch. “Fuck,” he growls.
“You sure about that?” I snort. “How will you move your hips if you can’t even bend forward for food?” I tease, giving him back what he dishes out.
I hand him the plate so he doesn’t have to stretch. Taking it from me, he captures my wrist before I can pull away and places the plate on the couch beside him. He tugs me forward, forcing me to whip my hand out to brace the back of the couch before I end up in his lap and tear those stitches open again. Our faces are so close, specks of amber in the greens of his eyes shimmer like gold. He inhales me, taking in my scent like I’m food ready for devouring.
“I don’t need my hips to fuck you, Ruby. I could fuck you a hundred different ways without even putting my dick in you. And it would start with you riding my tongue.” He swipes it across his bottom lip for emphasis. My gaze remains transfixed on the action.
Fuck. My thighs clench. Can you get pregnant from words alone? Releasing me, he looks down to his pizza and says, “But if the wine is what you want, go ahead.”
Pushing away from him, I shake my head, trying not to pant. “You’re mean,” I tell him, pouring the wine.
“You just getting that?” He smirks, biting into the pizza. I’ve never once been jealous of cheese, but right now as it sticks to his lips my insides squirm.
Pain flickers over his face as he swallows. “You okay?”
“Define okay,” he grunts, biting into another slice of the pizza. My stomach growls, watching him consume it. I take a sip of my wine and close my eyes for a fraction of a second, enjoying the flavor over my tongue as I imagine lowering myself onto his face.
Fuck, that is a face you want to ride.
“What are you thinking about, Ruby?” His voice penetrates my thoughts.
“Pain,” I half-lie. It is painful to desire someone when we’re trapped in such a fucked-up head space. Things are intense between us because emotions are heightened. Going through a life and death situation accelerates a bond. But reality is, we don’t know each other, and we can’t give in to those urges. “You seem like you’re accustomed to pain.” I point to the scars over his torso and shoulder. What has he endured in his life?
A shadow passes over his face, memories tormenting him. “My father taught me young.” His words are laced with hate, turning my stomach. “He and my mother liked the sounds of my screams. I built up intolerance in the end on will alone—a fuck you to them. I scream for no one.”
I picture the little boy, a young Ezekiel, innocent and abused by horrible people. There’s so much evil in the world, it makes me want to stay hidden away, just the two of us, forever.
“I’m sorry you went through that. Parents who can hurt their kids are the worst kind of wicked.” The urge to hold him, to soothe over those scars, makes my body jerk forward.
“It’s life. You know it just as well as anyone. Not everyone is cut out to be a parent.” He pushes the plate of pizza in my direction. Taking a slice,
I look over to my mother. She was a kid when she had me. How I wasn’t taken from her by the authorities, I don’t know. “She left me once at a supermarket. Forgot I was with her. An old lady found me eating cereal from the box in the cereal aisle,” I say out loud, taking a bite of pizza, my stomach whining for more.
“What happened?” His eyes track every movement I make, taking in every gesture, every sound. No one has listened to me so intently before. I’ve never really spoken about my childhood, but with him, I know there’s nothing I can say that he hasn’t experienced worse. Kindred spirits of sorts. It’s sad.
“A security guard recognized me. She shopped there for her vodka on the regular. It was cheap.” An unamused laugh trickles up my throat. “He used it as leverage to fuck her. Said he’d report her for neglect.” What would my life look like if he had reported her?
“He still works there?” Ezekiel’s fists clench. The tic I’m becoming accustomed to in his jaw flickers. He’s mad.
“Yep.” I bite into another slice of pizza. “Still a freaking creep too.” I shudder. The pig had tried giving me bottles of vodka for free in exchange for showing him my panties, “Sit on the floor and lift your skirt for me.” I was thirteen. Animal. Luckily for me, I’d been around perverts and creeps my whole life. Thank you, mother. I knew to ignore and not make eye contact.