Page 54 of She Haunts Me Still

“You’re haunted?” Ezra leans close enough that she can nearly taste his next words. “I’mpossessed.”

The silence that follows rings in her ears, static filled and blistering.

She has no idea which one of them moves first.

Ezra fists the hem of her sweater while her hands fly to his collar. Mallory’s boots skid on the floor, spine peeling away from the switchboard as they collide, his mouth crashing against hers.

The kiss is infused with anger and defeat, warfare and surrender. Ezra’s teeth sink into her lower lip, guiding her open, and the first brush of his tongue feels like it’s laced with every lie he’s told her.

“I hate you,” she breathes into his mouth.

“Show me how much,” he says roughly.

Ezra’s fist closes in her hair as he kisses her harder. His other hand dips to her waist, traversing higher, palming the full curve of her breast through her sweater. All while his tongue sweeps hers in slow, teasing strokes. Like he’s holding himself back. Like he could devour her whole if he isn’t careful.

Rage and desire crash inside her, and Mallory yields to the intoxicating dissonance, arching into his firm grip. The movement sends her hip into the switchboard, and a flood of opal bursts below.

“The lights—”

“Shh.” Ezra reaches until he finds the switch. His hands move to her hips, coaxing her onto the counter, buttons digging into her thighs.

He leans in again, just as another swell of silver white flashes from behind the booth.

Ezra’s breath is warm against her cheek. “Can you reach the—just unplug it.”

Mallory twists toward the switchboard. She yanks the thick plug, and the theater plunges nearly to black. The only light remaining is a pale glow from the ghost light, and the burning crimson from the exit sign over Ezra’s shoulder.

Turning the entire lighting booth a blood-soaked red.

Pulse racing, she draws Ezra’s mouth back to hers. The rusty shadows spark her confidence, and she tugs on his belt to bring him as close as possible. He wastes no time nudging her knees around his hips, and heat coils in her stomach at the hard press of him against her.

“Do you feel what you do to me?” he asks. His words trigger the softest moan from her, and his breath rushes out at the sound. “I’m going to need to hear that again. Louder.” He ghosts his knuckles over the skin above her knit thigh highs. “Can I touch you?”

She stares up through her lashes. She shouldn’t let him—shouldn’t let him find out just how much she doesn’t hate him at all.

Instead, she nods and whispers, “Higher.”

Ezra’s hand slips beneath her skirt, fingers grazing the inside of her thigh. Right at the edge of her underwear. “So…here, then?”

“Close,” she says, smiling slightly, her mouth hovering over his. “Keep going.”

He releases a low sound of approval and slides his palm over the black fabric between her legs, the dampness fully giving her away.

“Fuck,” he exhales. “Are you always this wet for me?”

She just sinks into his hand in defeat. But Ezra only traces her softly through her underwear, his movements painfully slow. Featherlight. Maddening. His thumb slowly slides back and forth, barely touching where she wants him most.

She’s certain she’ll shatter to pieces when he does.

As if he can read her thoughts, Ezra’s fingers slip beneath the fabric. She sucks in a breath as he moves over her smooth skin in deliberate, languid strokes. Carefully sliding along her center, dipping so briefly inside.

“You’re soaking,” he grinds out. “Tell me, were you like this in the confessional booth?”

“What if I was?” Mallory challenges, defiant, rolling her hips.

He looks at her in mock disapproval. “Then I think you’ve sinned, Jules.”

“I—” Her response spirals into a mewl as he sinks two fingers all the way inside her.