Page 27 of Wreck and Ruin

“I have waited my whole life for you, Airlie,” my name on his lips is like a song composed by God Himself.

No, not God.

Someone not from this world.

Someone pure and magical, and I don't ever want him to stop singing it to me.

“Tell me you want this,” he moans desperately in my ear.

His hold on me is tighter now, though he doesn't hurt me.

Idowant this.

Ezekiel’s touches are different.

Sacred.

Pure.

Should I want him to stop?

Is it bad that I don’t want him to?

I'm not sure I care if it is.

“I need your words, Little Siren,” he demands, leaving a trail of warmth along my neck, the hair on his face prickling my skin.

“I want this,” I almost beg. My chest rises and falls, each breath shallow, mirroring his. “Ezekiel, I-” my voice cuts off, his commanding presence blurring my every thought.

“Say it again,” he asks. The words come out low and teasing, and I can tell he’s smiling, even though I can’t see his face.

“Ezekiel.”

“Whatever happens to me after tonight–” he whispers before rolling away from behind me, his movements slow and tender, and with warm, gentle hands, he guides me to lie on my back. He hovers above me, one hand outstretched above my head, supporting his body, the other caressing my cheek. He gazes down at me. His face is luminous in the moonlight as he runs his fingers through my hair and swipes a strand behind my ear. His knuckles graze across my skin, but he’s careful not to let his chains hurt me.

There is a kindness in his eyes I never thought anyone could possess. Granted, I have only ever seen a handful of people in my life. Still, with how he’s looking down at me, holding me, I feel like I’ve known him forever.

“I would have known what true happiness felt like,” he says, dipping his head and brushing his nose against my ear, breathing in my scent. “I’m going to replace their touches with my own,” he growls, pinning his hips against mine.

His large frame engulfs mine, but I am unafraid.

I feel safe like this with him.

He lifts his head, his eyes narrowing with worry, I think, as he meets my gaze. Before he can do or say anything else, I raise my hand and slowly trace the sharpness of his cheekbone, then the hair that covers his jawline. His eyes bounce between mine, reading me.

He knows I don’t want to talk about them.

What they did to me.

“I could list a thousand reasons why you should stay away from me, Airlie,” he says breathlessly as I lift my hips and brush against his hardness.

“I could list a thousand more reasons why I’m not going to,” is all I get to say before he slams his mouth to mine.

My heart lurches in my chest. My breathing is uncontrollable as he hungrily parts my lips with his tongue. My back digs into the roughness of the ground, but I don’t wince.

I revel in it.

I want him to mark me.

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