Page 73 of A City of Smoke and Demons
‘You are so …’ she began, chest heaving, cheeks flushed. Her hair was half undone, red strands dangling down the back of her neck and snaking over her shoulder. Her breath brushed his face. ‘Let me deal with this my own way.’
‘Let me help.’ He released one of her arms so he could brush some hair from her cheek. She punched him in the stomach, not hard enough to wind him, but hard enough to make him restrain her again.
‘Let me go or I’ll hurt you in ways you won’t like,’ she threatened. Her eyes were glistening, and the sounds of the bar were suddenly very far away as they stood there in the shadows, pinned together, a bottle of whiskey between them.
He did as she asked, and she turned and stomped up the stairs. Fuck it. Fuck it, fuck it. He took a deep breath, then followed.
She was waiting outside his room, rigid with anger. Ezra set the bottle down; her eyes flickered to it, and then, without warning, she was in his arms, shoving him against the door as her hands tore at his shirt.
They shouldn’t do this, not when she was blazing with self-hate, but he wanted her— God, he wanted her. He was prepared to make the mistake, suffer the consequences later. Sheobviously wanted him. He took hold of her face and kissed her, hard; their teeth clashed, and her tongue swept into his mouth, making his knees weak. Ezra fumbled the door open, letting her push him inside and tug his shirt off. Her hands brushed his chest, and her lips were on his throat as she pressed herself so close he thought she’d crawl beneath his skin.
‘Analise,’ he whispered. ‘Is this—’
‘Shut up, Ezra.’ She kissed him again. ‘Shut up, shut up, shut up.’ She was a living flame in his arms, raging with the sort of pain he was all too familiar with. She shoved him backwards until he tumbled onto the bed, then stripped her clothes off and climbed on top of him. The naked weight of her, the feeling of her pressed against him, the searing heat of her skin, was torture.
She was worse than a drug. She was in his blood, and he was drowning in her. Ezra rolled them over; she squirmed beneath him, shifting so her thighs bracketed his hips. Her breathing was heavy, becoming a moan as he pressed himself against her. He was so hard it was painful. Desire swept through him like a wave as she gripped his hips.
‘Is this—’
‘Shutup,Ezra.’
‘Alright, alright. I believe we have unfinished business,’ he murmured, fingers caressing her thigh. ‘Table, bed, floor … I don’t really care. I’ll take you on whichever surface you prefer, however you prefer.’
‘The bed will do,’ she whispered. Her words were the signal for them both to let go, and like rope stretched too tight, they snapped. She reached between them and tore his trousers open, shoving them down his hips as he sank his teeth into her neck. Angling her hips up to his, she wriggled against him, twisting her head to claim his mouth. Her kiss was savage, her teeth nippinghis bottom lip as he wound his fingers tightly in her hair, then buried himself inside her as deep as he could.
She groaned as he began to move, then dug her fingernails into him. ‘Fuck me like you mean it.’ Her foot pressed into his arse, urging him into her, and even as he complied, it wasn’t enough. ‘Harder,’ she demanded.
‘I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘What if I want you to hurt me?’
‘Analise …’
She stilled beneath him and sighed. ‘Either fuck me the way I tell you to, or get off me and I’ll go and find someone who will.’
Ezra sat back. There was enough light coming through the window to see the glare she was giving him. Her hair was a tangled, red mess, her cheeks dotted with colour, chest heaving. He recognised the feral gleam in her eye—he’d seen it enough on his own. He understood the need to try and fill the hole inside, to direct the anger somewhere tangible. He knew the taste of self-destruction, what it looked like, and what it felt like to be unravelling.
She was absolutely beautiful in her chaos, and he wanted nothing more than to be what she needed in this moment. He opened his mouth, but she cut across him in a low, furious voice.
‘You think you’re the first man I’ve picked up in a pub?’
‘No.’
‘You don’t get it, Ezra. Moments like these help me to forget what I am. So help me, or go away.’
She was asking him to fix her, and he wanted to, but didn’t know how.
Analise rolled her eyes and went to get off the bed.
Ezra pulled her back roughly. ‘Is this really what you want?’
‘Yes,’ she breathed.
‘Then turn around,’ he ordered.
‘Don’t you dare come before I do.’
‘I remember the rules. On your hands and knees, Analise.’
