We looked at each other, still breathless, our bodies still connected. His ears were flushed a deep red, and the sight made me smile softly. Without saying a word, I reached up and gently touched his ears, feeling the heat beneath my fingertips.
I knew it was the perfect moment to clear the air, to say what I had been holding back. My hand gently touched Ezekiel's cheek, and I spoke softly, "I don't mind if we're like this."
"Ezekiel," I repeated his name, wanting to be sure he was listening. "If you ever feel like you need me, just ignore everything else and enjoy being with me."
He lowered his gaze slowly, and I could see the conflict in his eyes. It wasn't easy for him—I understood that. But I also knew that once he learned the truth about my mom, his world would fall apart.
But if he accepted me, that wouldn't seem like a betrayal. It wouldn't hurt him as much once he saw my mom's true colors.
Ezekiel didn't respond right away. He seemed to be searching for the right words, or maybe just processing everything. A full minute passed before he looked up at me again. His eyes were deep, questioning, as if he was trying to figure out if I was serious.
He pulled out of me slowly, but didn't move from where he was, his weight still pressed lightly against me.
"Are you really fine with this?" he finally asked, his voice low and unexpectedly seductive. Something in his tone sent a thrill through me, and I bit my lower lip, fighting back a smile.
Of course, I wanted this. The idea had been in my mind for longer than I cared to admit. I nodded, a playful smile curving my lips.
"It would be fun to have an intimate relationship with my mom's boyfriend," I said, the words almost daring him to react.
Ezekiel pressed his lips together and sighed, though I couldn't tell if it was a sigh of regret or something else. Honestly, I didn't care what it meant. I wasn't looking for answers or emotions, not right now.
This—whatever it was—was enough for me.
The loss of my mom.
"Isabella, this isn't right," Ezekiel muttered, standing up from me and turning his back as he pulled up his trousers. His voice was heavy with guilt, and I watched him, unbothered. I didn't care to fix my half-naked state, instead sitting up on the table, feeling the wetness and the tear in my panties. I ignored it and took a deep breath.
"Do you want me again?" I asked, my voice teasing. "If you start again, I'll take off the rest of my clothes."
He sighed deeply but still didn't turn to face me.
I knew I had to push harder, manipulate him. So, I covered my chest, pretending to ease the tension. "Okay, I was teasing you," I said, softening my tone. "But really, Ezekiel, there's nothing wrong with exploring this..."
"This isn't cheating. I asked you to do it."
He stayed silent, his back still turned to me, struggling with what he had done. I decided to take it further.
"When my mom comes, go to her. I won't stop you," I continued, my voice more persuasive. "But... let's enjoy this moment together, right now."
I slid off the table, closing the space between us. Slowly, I made him turn to face me. I placed my hand on his chest, feeling his heartbeat, his hesitation.
"There's no fault in this," I whispered, my eyes locking onto his. "You want to be part of my family, don't you? I've chosen you as my friend."
I stepped closer, rising on my toes to reach his ear, my breath warm against his skin. "A friend I can share everything with. And I mean everything," I whispered seductively.
"I won't disappoint you."
I smiled, stepping away slowly, my eyes never leaving his. I walked toward my room, throwing one last glance over my shoulder and winking at him playfully.
Ezekiel stood there, his gaze following me, unsure and conflicted, until I closed my bedroom door behind me.
Ezekiel's POV.
Isabella.
Isabella, you're beautiful.
I thought to myself, my face tense as the memories of last night weighed heavily on me. I knew exactly what I'd done, and now, fully in control of my senses, I couldn't hide from the truth. I'd been aware, completely aware, when I gave in to her. It wasn't just a moment of weakness. It was her—her beauty, her intoxicating presence. I couldn't resist.
And to be honest, I enjoyed every second of it.
I squeezed my eyes shut and dropped into the chair, torn between wanting more of her touch, her warmth, and the gnawing guilt that told me to stop. But my mind—my mind was caught on her words, echoing endlessly: There's no fault in this.
I took a deep breath, staring at the door, knowing what I wanted but too conflicted to admit it.
Finally, I stood up, the weight of my decision sinking in. I couldn't fight it anymore. I couldn't fight her anymore. I lost the battle to my mind and, in the process, let Isabella win. My feet moved quickly, almost instinctively, as I rushed toward the second floor, my heart pounding harder with every step. Without thinking, I pushed open her bedroom door.
The sound of water splashing greeted me. I was gasping, standing in her room, staring at the bathroom door. Why hadn't she locked it? My jaw tightened, frustration mixing with desire. Was she testing me, pushing me to the edge? Through the frosted glass of the shower, I could make out her silhouette—blurred, but undeniably there. Her bare form was enough to make my pulse race.
I swallowed hard, my throat dry, my hand slowly reaching out toward the glass. Every part of me knew this was wrong, but something deeper kept urging me forward.
My mind was in chaos, but one thought was clear—she hadn't locked the door. And maybe, just maybe, she was waiting for me.