“I figured we needed to talk,” he explains as he settles into the chair on the other side of my desk. “I can tell you were ruffled after we let out today.”

“I’m not…ruffled,” I protest.

Ezra just laughs. “You forget that for the first few months that I knew you, all I ever saw was ruffled Dani. I’m definitely an expert on what she looks like.”

“It’s nothing,” I try, not deigning to look at him in favor of the document in front of me. “I just had a lot to go over and forgot to text you back.”

“No, you didn’t,” he pushes calmly. “None of this is going to work if you aren’t honest with me, Dani.”

“It’s stupid,” I sigh, leaning back in my chair to pinch the bridge of my nose. “Seriously, it sounds ridiculous even in my head.”

“I doubt that. Just talk to me.”

“I just…it’s so hard watching you defend him.”

Ezra arches a brow. “Lorenzo?”

“I know, I know. It’s your job. You have to. I know that you have to play the cards you’re dealt, just like the rest of us, but…” I shake my head. “He’s such a bastard.”

Ezra frowns, looking down at his laced fingers resting in his lap. “We knew this wasn’t going to be easy,” he starts. “But it’s just a job, Dani. You know that.”

“I know that, I do,” I assure him. “I just…I’ve gotten to know Bianca. She’s…she’s been through so much. I feel like I’m failing her sometimes.”

This is a dangerous conversation, one that we’ve carefully avoided the last few weeks. Both of us know that discussing our clients is tricky territory. I don’t even know why I’ve admitted any of this to begin with.

“Listen,” he says finally. “Things will be better when this is over. We do this job to the best of both of our abilities, and then after…maybe we disclose. We can avoid being on opposite sides going forward.”

I suck in a breath. “Disclose?”

“You don’t want to?”

“I…” I swallow. “I didn’t know you would. Alexander…”

“Alexander has done a great job of ruining my life for the last thirty-four years,” Ezra says, his voice hard. “I won’t be letting him do that with you.”

I frown. “And your mother? What if he disapproves? Will she suffer?”

“I…” There’s a flash of pain in his eyes, and I know he’s considered it. “I don’t know.”

“Maybe…maybe we could work together on her case,” I offer. “Maybe we can find something you overlooked.”

His eyes search mine for several seconds, softening. “You’d do that?”

“Of course I would. I hate that he uses her against you.”

Another long moment passes with him studying me, and I’m half-desperate to know what he’s thinking. After a long while, a small smile forms on his face, and he gives me a slow nod. “I’d like that.”

“I’m sorry I was weird today,” I tell him.

He shakes his head. “We’re going to have weird days. It’s a weird situation we’re in.”

“It is,” I agree.

He pushes up out of his seat, circling my desk in a predatory way until he’s turning my chair toward him, resting his hands on the arms on either side of me. “Worth it though,” he murmurs.

“Yeah?”

“Mm-hmm.”

He dips his head, and I push up to meet him, closing my eyes at the feel of his mouth against mine. It’s crazy that in a matter of weeks, I seem to have lost all will to resist this. Truthfully, after the strange melancholy I’ve been in for the last few hours, Ezra’s easy kisses and warm touch are a welcome distraction.

“Stand up,” he bids softly. “I want to try something.”

I let him coax me out of my chair with strong hands at my waist, not even pretending to protest when he turns me and pushes me back against my desk. His palms shove at the hem of my skirt, pushing it higher until they can cup the back of my thighs as he urges me to sit on top of the desk.

“I have been thinking about you on this desk since the last time I had you here,” he admits.

“You were entirely too cocky,” I snort.

I feel his smile against my throat, where he’s buried his face, his hands teasing the lace-covered edges of my thigh-highs. “I just knew what I wanted.”

“You…” I bite my lip, my lashes fluttering when I feel his fingertips teasing the silky material of my underwear at my hips. “You said I was yours.”

His lips trail kisses up my neck, lingering below my jaw. “Aren’t you?”

“I…”

“Because I want you to be,” he confesses, his warm breath puffing against my ear before his mouth traces along my jaw. “I think I did even then.”

“Ezra,” I manage shakily.

“Do you remember what I said about these skirts you wear?” He’s inching the fabric of said skirt up higher now, cool air licking at my thighs with every revealed bit of skin. “Do you remember what I said they made me want to do to you?”

“I remember,” I whimper, actually whimper.

“Do you want that?” He kisses the corner of my mouth gently, speaking directly against my lips. “Tell me what you want.”

There’s still that tiny sliver of resistance, a small streak of stubborn defiance toward giving in to him, but I tamp it down. I’ve realized in the last few weeks that giving in to Ezra is not a concession. It’s a revelation.

“I want you,” I tell him, because it’s the truth, and I’m long past tired of pretending it isn’t. “Just like you said.”

He grins against my mouth. “Here? Right here?”

“Shut up and touch me, asshole.”

He rumbles out a laugh. “Since you asked so nicely.”

I close my eyes when he kisses me, not because I can’t look at him, not anymore, but because sometimes kissing Ezra feels like too much. The weight of his mouth is heavier than just a physical presence, it’s a consuming thing that I feel everywhere; it’s too much, kissing Ezra. Part of me thinks it always has been. Maybe that’s why I’ve always been so afraid of it.

But I’m not now.

His tongue slides against mine in a slow caress, his hands rucking up my skirt until it’s gathered at my waist with decidedly more urgency. He groans when his palms slide across the lace on my thighs, hovering there only for a moment before moving higher to hook his fingers into the elastic of my underwear.

“Sometimes I pretend you’re not wearing these under your skirt,” he says huskily, still nipping at my lower lip as he begins to inch them down. “I pretend that you’re always ready for me. That at any moment I could have you just like this. Fill your soft, wet cunt anytime I like.” My thighs clench when his fingers caress me there, proving that I’m just as wet as he’s describing. “Would you let me, Dani?”

“Fucking touch me and find out,” I practically growl.

Ezra just chuckles, still slipping his fingers between my legs in a lazy exploration. “But I am touching you.”

“You’re being purposely infuriating again.”

“It’s one of my favorite pastimes.”

I huff as I reach for the zipper of his slacks, deciding to take matters into my own hands. This is the twenty-first century, after all. If Ezra wants to be intolerable, that’s his prerogative. I’ll just take what I want myself.

“Someone’s eager,” he croons as I shove his fly apart.

I curl my other hand around his nape, pulling him close and smashing his lips to mine just after uttering a quiet “Shut up.”

His low moan tumbles into my mouth when I get my hands around his cock, giving him a slow stroke from root to tip, going at the same infuriatingly slow pace that he teased me with. My lips curl when he begins to try to fuck into my fist, pulling back as I squeeze him tight enough to make him hiss.

“Not so fun when you’re on the receiving end, is it?”

He chuffs out a strained laugh. “Fine. You win. Have your way with me.”

“God, I hate you,” I say with absolutely no bite.

He’s already leaning in to kiss me again. “Sure you do.”

I wrap my arms around his neck when he finally sinks two fingers inside me, pumping them deep and curling them to stroke at my inner wall until I shudder with it. I’m dripping for him, and I know that there will be a mess at the edge of my desk that is going to deeply embarrass me later, but right now I can’t find it in me to care. Not when I can feel the slick crown of him rubbing against my inner thigh. And he’s right. I would let him bend me over my own desk. At this moment, I would let Ezra do whatever the fuck he wanted to me.