Page 7 of The Forgery Mate (Taken by His Alpha #6)
“No?” Ezra’s expression shifts, a predatory smile playing at the corners of his mouth. He tilts his head, studying me like I’m a puzzle he’s already solved. “Are you sure?”
I clench my jaw, refusing to answer. Refusing to admit how my body hums with want despite all my rational objections.
Ezra’s gaze trails down my body, lingering at my waist, then lower, and I feel it as a physical touch.
When he meets my eyes again, my stomach flips at the triumph in his expression. “Your body remembers me, even if you’re trying to forget.”
Ezra’s laugh ripples through the study, a wild sound that spreads heat through my hips.
He stands opposite me across Aaiden’s desk, arms crossed over his chest, his stance casual, though he’s anything but.
The smudged makeup on his thumb marks him like a painter who’s claimed his canvas. My canvas. My skin.
“It’s cute when you lie.” He pushes off from the desk and advances toward me again. “Or is this supposed to be role play? Do you want to pretend to resist?” The words wrap around me, a honeyed purr designed to lure me closer. “I can work with that if it’s what you need to give in.”
I back away until I hit the bookshelf again, trapped between leather-bound volumes and Ezra’s approaching form. “This isn’t a game.”
“No, it’s not.” Before I can react, his hand shoots out, cupping me through my uniform pants. The electric contact sends a shock racing up my spine and leaves me gasping. “Because we both know this has always been more than pretend.”
My body betrays me, hardening under his palm. A satisfied rumble vibrates from Ezra’s chest as he applies gentle pressure, remembering how to touch me from thirty-one nights spent learning each other’s bodies.
“Stop,” I whisper, but the protest lacks conviction. I should push him away, but my arms hang useless at my sides, fingertips tingling with the need to touch him back.
“Why?” His hand remains where it is, thumb tracing the outline of my hard dick and sending sparks dancing across my vision. “Give me one honest reason.”
I struggle to form coherent thoughts as his touch unravels me. The truth spills out before I can filter it. “I was older… I should have known better. You were too young.”
Ezra’s hand stills, his expression shifting from predatory to incredulous.
A laugh escapes him, sharp enough to cut.
“That’s why you left? Because you thought I was too young?
” He withdraws his hand, and I hate myself for missing his touch.
“I wasn’t a kid, Knox. I was twenty-two and obsessed with you. ”
“Twenty-two is young,” I insist, steadier now that he’s stopped touching me. “I was twenty-nine. I shouldn’t have?—”
“What? Fallen in love with me? Let me fall in love with you?” The words hang in the air between us, dangerous and volatile.
Love. We never used the word during those thirty-one days. Never dared to name what was growing between us. Hearing it now, a year later, in this cold study with makeup smeared across my face and lies piled at my feet, opens an ache in my chest rooted in an emotion far deeper than desire.
“It wasn’t real.” The lie burns my tongue. “I approached you with an agenda. I needed access to the manor.”
Ezra’s expression turns shrewd. “For what? The art? The security codes? What was so valuable that you spent a month in my bed?”
I look away, shame tightening my throat.
How do I explain that I tricked him into bringing me here to case the manor, to gather information for a potential heist, only to become distracted by the Alpha with the silver streak in his hair?
That I’d forgotten my purpose in the headiness of his attention?
“It doesn’t matter now.”
“It matters to me.” Ezra steps closer again, but doesn’t touch me this time. “Whatever you came for, whatever you thought you were doing, I don’t care. I don’t care about the lies or the money you took.”
“Aaiden offered?—”
“I know what Aaiden offered. I know you took it. I don’t care!” He catches himself mid-outburst, reigning in his emotions with visible effort. “Do you understand what I’m saying? I. Don’t. Care.”
He stands close enough now for me to see the different flecks of color in his irises, the way the gold bleeds into green at the edges. Close enough for his breath to mingle with mine, filling each other’s lungs, giving and taking life.
“All I want,” he continues, softer now, “is you. Back in my life. Back in my bed. Back where you belong.”
The intensity of his desire both thrills and terrifies me. No one has ever wanted me like this, raw and honest and unapologetic. Even knowing the lies and understanding that I approached him with ulterior motives, he still wants me. It defies logic. Defies self-preservation.
“Why?” The question escapes before I can stop it. “Why would you want me back after what I did?”
His hand rises to my face, this time tracing the curve of my cheek where he’d smeared away my disguise. “Because in thirty- one days, you made me feel more alive than I had in twenty-two years. Because when you left, you took something vital with you.”
His thumb brushes my lower lip. “Because the hunt for you was the only thing keeping me sane this past year.”
My breath catches in my throat. I should be afraid of this obsession. Should run from the danger of being wanted this much. Instead, my body leans into his touch.
“I can’t—“ The words catch in my throat, but I force them past my body’s resistance to deny him. “I can’t be what you want.”
“You already are what I want.” Ezra’s hand slides to the nape of my neck, fingers tangling in the short blond hairs of my wig. “Everything else, the names, the disguises, the lies… Those are just details. I want the man beneath them all.”
His face draws closer, and I know with absolute certainty that if his lips touch mine, I’m lost. One kiss, and I’ll surrender all my defenses, my secrets, even my freedom.
The loud click of two pairs of dress shoes sounds from outside, drawing closer, and we both freeze as reality crashes back in.
But Ezra doesn’t step back right away. His attention remains locked on me, and his fingers tighten on my neck before he releases me. “This isn’t over. You’re not escaping me again.”
He moves away at last, putting appropriate distance between us as the door swings inward, disrupting our time alone.