Page 12 of Beautifully Broken
She lets out an exhausted breath and shakes her head. “Please. Just get out Ezra.”
A million words fly through my head, but I don’t say a single one. I simply back away, close the curtains, and quietly slip out of the room.
Mindlessly, I walk out to the rooftop balcony and stare down at the city below me.
Blaire is an open target, even under my protection.
Heis coming, and I know he is just waiting for me to drop my guard a millimeter.
“I’m sorry, Ivy. I know you hate me, but I cannot let you go. I lost you once to my own stupidity. And I’ll be damned if I let you slip through my fingers again.”
Chapter 7
Blaire
As the warm shower water rains down on me, I can’t help but wish I were anywhere else.
It’s been two weeks since Ezra and I spoke. The moment my life was sent into a tailspin and I felt as if I had no control over my own body was the last time I allowed myself to speak to the man that used to be mine.
He has made his presence known in every corner of this penthouse. Even if he isn’t in the room with me, I feel as if he is watching me. It wouldn’t surprise me if he had cameras all over, including in the bathroom.
Ezra has changed in so many ways, but somehow I can still see the man I once loved lurking behind those light eyes. Love that is now replaced with hatred.
He is still blunt and somehow carefree despite his less-than-rational way of approaching life.
Even with spending a decade apart, the boy who used to numb himself with copious amounts of drugs to hide the pain of life is still there.
Yet, something drastic has changed in him. Maybe it’s because he is now sober, and most of our relationship was when he was using? I don’t know what changed him or what his life has been like since the last day I saw him. Whatever it is, it can’t be good.
The rare times that I have allowed myself to look at him, I can see worry, stress and lack of sleep. Every time I have to kick myself for feeling an ounce of sympathy for him or the dire urge to climb him like a tree.
I never imagined Ezra James could get more attractive, but I was wrong. His trimmed dark hair with lines shaved on the side of his head somehow makes his light eyes shine brighter. And those damn tattoos. Every visible piece of his body is covered except his face. Most of them being Ivy leaves, which I refuse toadmit does things to my body I would rather not feel at this moment. Lastly, that fucking tongue piercing.
What I wouldn’t give to feel his tongue on my body. My legs squeeze together and I feel my hand drift down to rub my aching core.
I may hate him. I may want to scream at him and tell him how he ruined my fucking life. I may want to run away from this damn penthouse and start a whole new life. But without Carson’s concoction being injected into me every day, my mind has found other ways to fill that space.
The main focus, glaring at Ezra while he walks around the penthouse in only his underwear. Occasionally winking at me and running that damn piercing over his lip.
My hand brushes against my clit at the vision of that fucking piercing, and I bite my lip to hold back a moan.
Pleasure radiates over my entire body as I work my clit. The warm water overhead hits my nipples at just the right angle.
Suddenly, an alarm sounds somewhere in the bedroom and ice fills my veins. My head falls back against the tile and I let out a frustrated sigh.
Time for my meds.
I step out of the shower and briefly glance in the mirror before shrugging on the fluffy robe hanging on a warming rack.
Stupid rich asshole.
Every day, like clockwork, medications to curb the cravings for drugs I never wanted in the first place, but were forced upon me, are delivered to my bedside. The first few days, I refused to take it, but when withdrawal reared its ugly head, I knew I had no choice.
Taking one last look at the girl in the mirror that I wish I knew, but don’t, I make my way into the bedroom and toss the pills into my mouth.
The sun shines high in the sky and I’m about to head out to the terrace when I hear Ezra’s hushed tone from the other room.
Quietly, I creep into the living room and when I don’t see him; I follow his voice into the kitchen.
