Ezra's smile was predatory.

"For the longest time I've been avoiding you because I felt like it was my responsibility to not make you uncomfortable," he said, glancing down at their hands. His thumb moved lightly against the edge of her wrist. He took a half step in closer towards her and looked up to meet her eyes again. "Does this make you uncomfortable?"

---

  

---

Rosalie generally felt the same, only approaching him when her emotions overruled her sensibilities. There was no point in dragging out their mutual heartbreak, no point in inflicting more pain when the goal at hand was healing.

Tonight, however, Rosalie couldn't fathom walking away from this. Not now, not with his touch searing her skin, marking her as his own once more. (Had she ever stopped being his?) She took a half step of her own, the distance between them now minimal. Her eyes darted to his lips and back up again before she answered, "not at all."

---

  

---

stunning set by Lady <3

Watching her as intently as he was, he couldn't have missed the way she looked at his lips. Between that and the step closer to him it was as good as a written invitation. He reacted without thinking, reaching up with his other hand to cup the side of her face beneath her mask. Thankfully he had the presence of mind to stop there, at least for the moment. They were at the edge of a less crowded room, dimly lit and easy to ignore, but it still wasn't actually private.

He forced his eyes away from her just long enough to find the closest escape route, then pulled her towards it. The door led to a tiny retiring room — really not much more than a closet, though one that the hosts had crammed two armchairs and a small round table into. The candle on the table was the only light, but it was easy to see the room was empty. On entering the room Ezra turned towards Rosalie, preventing her from moving any farther than the threshold of the closed doorway. He put his hand on her cheek again and leaned in close to her again, his lips only a breath from hers. "Not at all?" he taunted, voice so low it was barely audible.

---

  

---

It wasn't the first time Ezra had stolen her away from an otherwise crowded room, wasn't even the first time they wound up in something smaller than a closet. (That the organizers had managed to fit two chairs and a table in the closet was nothing short of a miracle.) It was, however, the first time that Rosalie nearly voiced her protest. Discomfort or not, desire or not, they still weren't meant to be doing this anymore.

Still, now that she was effectively trapped, Rosalie felt what remained of her resolve melting away. They could have this, she decided. They could have this one night of poor mistakes and tomorrow would bring what it may.

"Not at all." Rosalie echoed breathily with her hands pressed flat against his chest.

---

  

---

stunning set by Lady <3

He could no longer hold out against the intoxicating scent of her perfume, or the siren's call of her shallow breath. He had wanted her to cave first, to kiss him, but he couldn't wait for her to pull the trigger. He closed the distance between them in every respect: his lips on hers; leaning his body in so she was pressed up against the door they'd come in through; his hands on both sides of her face keeping her from pulling away too soon. This was the height of selfishness, allowing himself to kiss her, but he couldn't even bring himself to feel guilty about it when she'd egged him on at every turn. She wanted this too, he knew. She wanted him.

Which had some dizzying implications for life once they left the closet, but — he couldn't think too hard about any of them while he was kissing her.

---

  

---

Rosalie's world shrank down to one of pure sensations. The warm wood against her back, the solidness of his body on hers, the heat of his hands on her face. She was consumed by him, drawn so far into her desire that no thought beyond Ezra remained. They could remain trapped in this too small closet for an eternity and it wouldn't have mattered so long as they continued like this.

The kiss broke apart only for milliseconds at a time for them both to draw breath. Her hands, once light against his chest, now held a tight grip on his shoulders to keep him from pulling back. She arched into him, her skirts now the only barrier between them being flushed together. Rosalie had the fleeting thought to find her wand and charm them away, but doing so would've meant the kiss ending (however briefly) and that simply wasn't a possibility.

---

  

---

stunning set by Lady <3

Her hips were already up against his but he wanted her closer. Without lessening the intensity of the ongoing kiss, he worked one hand down to her thigh, navigated down through the rumbled layers of skirts, and pulled it up to his waist so that she was half straddling him. A rush went through him at the friction between them as her body shifted.

Well, we never did get the wedding night we should have had, he thought. As it first occurred to him, the way this seemed to be going, the idea was accompanied by a thrill of excitement, but this quickly gave way to a smothered sort of panic. This was serious — a serious act in general, a serious violation of all the norms they'd established since their split — a serious breech of etiquette and propriety — potentially serious ramifications for both of them, if anyone found out. Was this what he wanted?

On one level, of course the answer was yes. Physically there was very little doubt about what he wanted. Emotionally — he'd started the night wanting to prove something to her, or prove something to himself; wanting to feel as though he were in control of something. Was this going to do that for him?

He ran his hand up her thigh. He broke off the kiss, though didn't move back. His breath was hot on her cheek as he spoke. "You still want me."

---

  

---

Rosalie gasped her surprise into the kiss, her hips rolled against his in search of a friction she hadn't known could exist. Their wedding had drawn near enough that Rosalie had suffered through several awkward discussions with her mother over what to expect in the marriage bed. None of what she mentioned spoke of a heat that threatened to consume her or an unmistakable wetness that now soaked through her underclothes. Nothing her mother had warned her of (pain, discomfort, over quickly) could ever compare to this.

No one would ever compare to him, she realized as his hand moved ever so slowly up her thigh.

Ezra broke the kiss, leaving her panting and confused for the sudden break in intensity. Her skin was flushed, her head whoozy from both the lack of air and nearness of him. She nearly pulled him back to her, was a split second away from doing just that when he spoke. You still want me, he said, as if it was ever a doubt. As if she could ever want anyone else.

It was a sobering enough thought that Rosalie rested her head back against the door, her eyes shutting tightly in the process as if she might gain some clarity on how to proceed. Her chest rose and fell against his, her hands tightened their grasp on his shoulders. Ezra's statement was a loaded one, one she couldn't possibly answer in depth while pressed against him like this. The hardness in his trousers was too distracting, his hand on her bare skin too arousing for her to formulate an adequate response.

"Yes," Rosalie more exhaled than answered, for it was never a question to her. Her love and desire for him came as naturally as breathing, even if she often wished it wouldn't.

---

  

---

stunning set by Lady <3

She breathed yes, and Ezra didn't know what that meant for them outside of the confines of this room, but her answer did tell him two things quite definitively. He knew that if he wanted to be fully intimate with her, she would let him. And he knew that if he really wanted to hurt her, he could.

He drummed his fingers against her thigh and bent to kiss her neck while he wrestled with this. What did he want more: to love her or to hurt her?

She wanted him still. If this interaction was any indication, she wanted him as much as she ever had. And yet she had left. She had left him, knowing it would hurt him — not knowing how much, of course, but she had to have known. Why not hurt her? There were so many ways he could. He could reject her. He could be cruel. Merlin knew he knew her well enough to say something particularly pointed, thrust right where she would feel it most. He could even press this farther and then hurt her — say something derogatory about the act itself, or her performance during it, or call her a whore. Hurting her would be so easy, and there was a not insignificant part of him that wanted to.

But in the end, he'd loved her too long to stop now. He finished kissing his way down to her shoulder and took a deep breath, savoring the scent of her perfume mixed with her sweat. "I want you, too," he said — needlessly, the signs of it were everywhere "— but not like this."

---

  

---

Ezra was still too near, his lips too intoxicating on her skin, for her to understand the shift in his behavior. For several long moments Rosalie remained still between him and the door as she struggled to get a grasp on both her breathing and thoughts. Everything that had happened between them tonight was, quite obviously, a terrible mistake that could never be repeated. She'd known that the second he slipped into the shadows alongside her. But, mistake or not, it had felt right to be here in the closet with him. Right and passionate and the first time she'd felt whole in years.

She stared at him with a confused mixture of disappointment and reluctance acceptance (and, perhaps, a dash of hurt). This was all they could ever have now, this was all that remained. Stolen moments at random parties where they ripped one another's hearts to shreds. They could have nothing else. Rosalie could offer nothing else.

Please, she nearly pleaded. The odds were that they would never be in this situation again. Rosalie hadn't known that April evening that that was to be the last time they kissed. She hadn't known how fragile their relationship was or the limits she had. She knew better now, she knew that this closet was likely the last time she would ever feel his breath on her skin. Rosalie knew this was the last time he would take the chance on her. Please, just once. She nearly begged.

Rosalie, who now trusted herself too little to speak, offered only the smallest of nods as she released her grip on his shoulders.

---

  

---

stunning set by Lady <3

So that was it, then — the decision made. He wasn't sure it was the right decision, wasn't sure how he would feel about it tomorrow, or even in an hour, but he couldn't take it back now. He still had his hand on her thigh, was still breathing into her neck. His head was swimming and his heart was pounding. He felt a little shaky as he hesitantly let go of her, dropping his hands and edging just the smallest amount back.

I'll let you have the room, he tried to say. They were both disheveled, but if she returned to the party in disarray it was more likely to be noticed. And it would have been the gentlemanly thing to do, giving her time and space to compose herself. For a moment it seemed he was having an out of body experience: he had decided to yield the room to her and he could see it all playing out, see the way he would edge around her in order to leave, the sigh he would heave when he ended up back in the party room. But then he was right back in the room, and he hadn't said that, and hadn't managed to take another step away from her at all.

He should have left and ceded the room to her, but —

"I loved you," he said plaintively. "We should have had this."

---

  

---

The sob which lodged itself in the back of her throat was suffocating her. Rosalie refused — refused — to break in front of him. Rosalie could manage through the dance they were to have in the next minute. She would step far enough to the side to allow him through, he would leave without another word. It would take her a few minutes to compose herself enough for this foray into the closet to remain unnoticed. Her skirts would need to be uncreased, her makeup reapplied. A difficult task to manage in the dark, but she'd have to somehow. Just as she would have to manage the rest of the party.

It was only when she returned home — when her door could lock behind her and the room could be soundproofed — that Rosalie would allow herself to break.

She was already inching over to the side when he spoke, and her heart shattered in her chest all over again. He was right — they should have had this. Except, he omitted the singular truth that would make her run for the better part of a year, choosing only to reveal it when it suited him most.

"You should have told me sooner." Rosalie whispered in response, her throat tight with the force of the sobs she held back. "And maybe we could have."

---

  

---

stunning set by Lady <3

Ezra tensed. He knew what she was talking about, of course — or at least what conversation she was talking about. He still wasn't sure what she thought he'd said, but by now he didn't think it mattered. There was nothing she could have heard that made it excusable to throw away months of a tender, loving relationship without so much as a pardon me? Whatever she'd heard, she hadn't given him a chance to explain or to compromise on it. She'd slapped him, she'd thrown the ring in his face, and she'd disappeared from his life for the next ten months.

"No," he said, tone bitter. "I shouldn't have told you at all."

---

  

---

There wasn't enough space or air in the room for her to have this conversation now. Ezra was still too near, his touch still too recent on her skin for her to think clearly. Rosalie needed to pace and think and breathe. She couldn't breathe under the weight of his stare and her grief. She couldn't think beyond how desperate she was only minutes ago. Even as the anger seeped in, even as her eyes narrowed at him, she was still wishing for even an inch more space.

"And condemn our son to die, because I would somehow survive that? Because we could somehow make it through that unscathed?" Rosalie demanded.

---

  

---

stunning set by Lady <3

Ezra blinked.

"Our son," he echoed, while he tried to connect the dots. She thought... actually, he still wasn't sure what she thought. That he'd decided to pull her aside for a few stolen moments prior to their wedding and confess he had some slow-burn plot to murder his own hypothetical child? It was so far-fetched he couldn't believe it. Or rather, he couldn't believe that she would believe it. She could have heard anything at all and he wouldn't have known, but how could she have heard anything like that and taken it at face value? How could she not have immediately recognized he would never really say something like that?

"We don't have a son," he said. He sounded stupid to his own ears but he was still scrambling to try and figure out what constellation he was looking at from this random assortment of stars. "You left me because you were worried about a child who didn't exist?"

---

  

---

It seemed dramatic and thoughtless when he put it like that, but Rosalie still vividly remembered the agony that spread through her chest and the roaring in her ears. She still remembered how her parents had drowned beneath their grief, losing any connection they might have once shared. That Ezra had thought her capable of surviving that loss was simply impossible for her to understand.

"You told me in no uncertain terms that he would die." Rosalie also didn't understand how he could be so confused, it was him who said it. Him who broke her trust. "You told me you were cursed and he would die. That your family was cursed."

---

  

---

stunning set by Lady <3