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His shoulders shake with a bark of incredulous laughter, his mouth stretching into a grin so wide that the dimple in his cheek indents.
It’s a lie, that dimple. It saysboy next doorwhen, in reality, Ezra is a force all on his own.
Not safe.
Not ordinary.
Not someone I want between my legs right now. And yet theonlyperson I want there.
I’m back to questioning my love of toxic men.
Not men.
Man.
One.
Him.
Fingers tangling in my hair again, Ezra asks, “What did he tell you?”
My voice comes out on a weak croak. “Nothing.”
A flick of his dark lashes as he glances up at me.
“Why?”
That I can answer truthfully. “Probably because he was beat to shit.”
“Wait. What?”
Confusion rolls across his expression, but that doesn’t stop one of his palms from stroking up my thigh, his thumb sweeping out when he reaches the apex of my legs, a tease along the edge of my panties.
It takes effort to speak around how dizzy that tease makes me.
“His face was bruised. Lip busted. Someone beat the crap out of him. I thought it was you. Or Damon.”
Silently praying that Ezra has had enough to drink that he’ll forget this conversation in the morning, I close my eyes when he leans down to kiss a trail up to where his hand rests on my upper thigh.
I need to stop him, need to toss it in his face that he’sdonewith me. But he’s not exactly in the mood to be denied.
His hand clamps down, fingers a bruising grip, my body turning that pain into wet heat between my legs.
“Wasn’t me,” he whispers as his fingers curl over the side of my sleep shorts and panties to tug them down. Not far. Not so much that I have to lift my butt so he can slip them off.
“I owe you two more truths,” he whispers, his mouth hot against my ear.
Breath caught in my lungs, I can’t will myself to answer, or to ask the first question.
Anger bleeds out of his voice when he confesses, “The thing I remember most about those weekends is the laughter. William laughed and laughed at what was done to us.”
My eyes clench shut, rage exploding inside me to know his father took joy in hurting them.
“I bet he’s still laughing.” Ezra nips at my jaw. “Want to know why?”
Managing to nod my head, I bite the inside of my cheek, my body vibrating with both fear and fury.
“Second truth then. They’re still laughing because they recorded us to watch later. The weekends might be over, but those bastards arestilllaughing.”