Page 116 of Pas de Trois
Chapter 28
Ezra
I’ve never been happier in my life. Anya is alive and free and finally home with me where she belongs. It’s probably silly to think this way, but it was almost like Brandon knew his mommy was coming home tonight. He’s usually such a good sleeper, but tonight he was awake when I brought Anya in…like he was waiting up to see her.
Of course, it’s an adjustment for everyone, and some things are going to take time and patience and care, but there was no sense of strangeness or discomfort between Anya and Brandon. There was intense and immediate love—the moment they met couldn’t have been more perfect.
But as I shut the door to Brandon’s room after we get him back down for the night and I lead Anya to my bedroom—our bedroom—I can tell something’s weighing on her mind. She wanted to talk to me about something earlier, and I don’t like the worry I feel pulsing from her as I show her our room.
Our master bedroom is a decent size with a connected bathroom. The carpet is an old, dark teal. There are hardwoods beneath that I want to restore someday, but for obvious reasons, that hasn’t been a priority. We have a single dresser with an attached vanity mirror to the right of the queen-sized bed and there are two end tables on either side of that. There’s a small closet, but that’s pretty much it. It’s nothing to write home about.
I close the door behind her after she enters and I stand there, watching her as she takes in her surroundings. She takes a few steps in, twirls around slowly and stills, her eyes falling on mine.
She grins. “So, this is it?”
I hold out my hands. “This is it.”
She sighs, crossing her arms over her stomach. “Today has been a little overwhelming.”
“Of course, it has. I can only imagine.”
Anya lowers slowly to sit on the edge of the bed. Her ass only touches it for a moment before she pushes herself right back up to standing. “There’s something I need to know, Ezra. I don’t really know how to ask. And it’s not really…I mean, I don’t really have a reason to be upset if you did—”
“If I did what?” She crosses her arms again, looking down and away from me. She’s nervous to ask, or maybe nervous for my answer, I don’t know. But I don’t like this. “Just ask me.”
“It’s been a year...” Words burst from her in a ramble. “And you were alone taking care of Brandon. You didn’t know if I was dead or alive, and I can only imagine you had to go on living life as if I had actually died. My sister and I aren’t all that dissimilar, and I know you’ve been living together for at least six months. I know I have no right to be upset if you and Lidia—” She shakes her head. “I just need to know. For my own peace of mind. Did you and Lidia…” She lets her unspoken, but crystal-clear question hang in the air.
My head tilts all the way to the side as I watch her squirm her way through her nervous words. Shit, it twists something painfully deep inside me to hear her ask me this. I get why she’s asking; I get why she would think that Lidia and I had become something more than friends. I’ve wondered the same thing about her and Kostya having spent the past year together. But it kills me how it pains her to even think that could be true.
I charge across the room, rushing to stand in front of her, and I grip her face with both hands, turning her head to look at me. “No, we didn’t. I never even thought about it, Anya. Lidia is as much a sister to me as she is to you. And you’re not as similar as you think you are…you couldn’t possibly be. There is no one, Anya, no one who could take your place in my heart, in my soul.” I shuffle closer as her delicate hands land gently on my wrists and she blinks up at me with those perfect sapphire eyes. I lick my lips as I watch her mouth part to take in an uneven breath. “I have been achingly, painfully celibate since that last day I saw you in the forest. And I probably would’ve been forever if you hadn’t survived. Something inside me knew I had to wait for you, knew that you were alive, knew that someday I would bring you back home.”
I hardly get the last word out before Anya rises on her toes and slams her lips against mine with enough force that I have to take a step backward. She kisses me hard and pushes me back until my back hits the closed door behind me.
I drop my hands from her cheeks and grip her hips tightly, spinning her and pushing her against the door instead. I pull my head back to break our kiss, though my hips grind my cock against her lower stomach. “Are you sure you want this now?” We’ve only kissed since I’ve rescued her because she was struggling with something, struggling with herself, and she asked me to wait. “I’ll wait for you. I’ll wait years if that’s what you want, but I need you so much right now. If we start this…”
Her shoulders relax as she drops her head back against the wall. “Everything feels right. Everything finally feels right. I want to start this, and I don’t want to finish until the sun comes up.”
I bring a hand up to stroke her cheek, tilting my head as I study the absolute beauty of her face. “This will never be finished.”
She breathes out a sigh and as her lips part, I dive in. I kiss her and forget the world. Anya moans, her fingers tickling my skin as she slips them beneath the hem of my T-shirt. She lifts and tugs and our kiss breaks only for the time it takes to rip my shirt over my head and toss it to the floor.
I slam my hands to the wall on either side of her, bending to taste her again. This kiss is frantic, desperate, eager…it’s fucking everything because I’ve been starving for this freedom with my blue-eyed girl since we met. I snake my hands around behind her, grip her ass tight, and lift her up along the door. She squeezes her legs around me and I groan, feeling her shift along my cock. I move one hand up to dig into her hair at the back of her head, tugging back on the strands ever so slightly to angle her face upward, just so I can bend over her and kiss her more deeply.
She is fucking everything.
I hold her close as I turn us and walk her to the dresser, setting her down on top of it, putting her ass level with my hips. She peels off her shirt, tossing it away as her eyes take me in, raking down my body and making me feel like the most desired man in the world. She reaches behind her and unhooks her black bra and my hips jut forward, pounding my cock against the edge of the dresser.
“Fuck,” I groan.
Anya lets her bra fall from her shoulders and everything slows to the speed of the garment slipping so slowly down her arms. “Ezra…”
The way she breathes my name—as if I were the very air that filled her lungs—makes me fucking hard.
She reaches for me, her hands locking together around the back of my neck, and she pulls my head down to her, our foreheads touching. She pants and breathes as her knees squeeze my hips to hold me in place.
“I love you and I’ll never stop,” she says.
Christ.
