Page 33 of A City of Smoke and Demons
A little voice in the back of Ezra’s brain told him it wasn’t a dream, but a memory. If it was his, it was completely foreign to him.
He crawled out of bed, crossing to the window to check the sky—miserable, as always. Shirt unbuttoned, he went downstairs to find Analise in the kitchen. Her back was to him, hair everywhere. He’d intended on sleeping on the floor again, but she’d been quiet since Lira and Jem’s visit, rattled, and even though she didn’t ask, he could tell she didn’t want to be alone.
She unnerved him, and not much—or many people—managed to achieve that. It wasn’t the way she watched him even when she wasn’t looking at him. It wasn’t the way she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth and chewed on it while shewas thinking. It wasn’t how she’d slept pressed against him last night, her leg tangled with his.
It wasn’t even the fact she was a death witch.
It was that he remembered every second of the first night they spent together. Every touch, every sound that had escaped those lips, every press of her fingers into his flesh, the way her legs curled around his hips as he —
Analise glanced at him over her shoulder, blushed, and looked away. Ezra blinked, and it was Agnes standing there. His chest tightened and he blocked out the screams, the pleas, things he usually only heard in his sleep. His dreams—his memories—were leaking into his waking life and Ezra didn’t know how to put them back in their box. There were things in his head even Jem didn’t know.
If Analise knew what he used to do, all the charm and wit in the world wouldn’t save him.
Ezra noted the stiffness in her shoulders. ‘About yesterday—’
‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
‘Alright.’ Maybe some humour? ‘I told you I have ways to release tension.’
Analise turned to face him, folding her arms. ‘You’re a pig.’
‘That’s only mildly insulting,’ Ezra said. ‘I’m sure you can do better than that.’
Her gaze swept over him, lingering on his chest, making him suppress a groan. He wanted this woman on her back, her legs wrapped around him, fingernails shredding his skin. Maybe it was being here, stuck in this house with her. Maybe it was simpler than that. He wanted her and he couldn’t have her.
Tea. That was what he needed. He found a cup, picked up the tea pot, and frowned.
‘This feels empty.’
‘I was thirsty,’ she replied. ‘That’s the last of it, sorry.’
‘Analise.’ Ezra set the pot down and rested his hands on the bench, taking deep, steady breaths. ‘I really need a cup of tea.’
‘You expect me to conjure some up? Turn water into tea? I’m not an alchemist.’ Chuckling, she went to walk away, but he caught her by the arm and pulled her back, trapping her between his body and the bench. His mind was scrambled, his body screaming, tension and dreams and the heat of her skin all swirling in a powerful thunderstorm that was moments away from breaking.
‘You drank all the tea.’
Analise shoved him away, cheeks scarlet, then her open palm whipped towards his cheek. He deflected the blow easily, pulling her against him, angling his hips so she couldn’t knee him in the balls. She scowled, making him smile.
‘I like that particular part of me as it is,’ he murmured.
‘I was thinking that particular part of you could use some improvement.’
He leant in until their noses were almost touching. Fuck the tea, this was much more enjoyable. ‘So you do remember.’
‘Enough to know I was underwhelmed with your performance.’ Her breath caressed his lips and set every nerve on edge. Heat surged through his veins.
‘We can’t have that,’ Ezra managed. ‘You should probably allow me to make it up to you.’
‘Oh?’ Her face was tilted towards his, a smile playing on her mouth. It could have been his imagination, but he thought she moved closer to him. ‘And how exactly would you do that?’
He kissed her, and the moment his lips crashed against hers, relief purred through him. He took advantage of her surprise and swept his tongue into her mouth, cradling the back of her head, his other hand curling over her cheek. Her fingers dug into his hips and her breath on his skin left him a puddle on the floor.Her back arched as his lips trailed along the underside of her jaw.
‘Kiss me again,’ she demanded breathlessly.
‘I don’t want to kiss you,’ he whispered. ‘I want to strip away all your layers until there is nothing but you. Then, I want to look at you for a while, memorise every part of you with my eyes before I memorise it with my tongue.’
Her breathing hitched.
