At his command, my body shuddered, my stomach muscles tightened, and a wave of euphoria tore through me. I bent forward, my arm falling from his neck as I surrendered to the last bit of ecstasy.
I was tender and sensitive as he continued touching me after I’d orgasmed, as if he couldn’t stop himself and never wanted to.
When he decided to let me go, I turned to face him, and his dark eyes locked on to mine. He dragged his two fingers beneath his nose as his tongue slipped between his lips. Smelling me. Tasting me.
“Now go to bed,” he demanded a moment later, and I lowered my focus to the bulge in his gray sweats. “No,” he snapped out. “You drank, and I’ve already lost my damn mind tonight.” He closed the space between us, a fierce look in his eyes. A request not to challenge him this time.
For whatever reason, I did what he told me and got into bed beneath the silvery-gray comforter.
He set a hand by me and bent forward, brushing away the runaway strands that’d escaped my messy bun; then he surprised me by tenderly kissing my forehead.
When he lifted his head, his brown eyes met mine, and instead of kissing me like I hoped, he whispered, “We’ll talk about what happened over breakfast,” and then he stood and left, taking the monitor with him as promised.
He shot me one last look, hit the light switch, then gently closed the door.
How could I possibly fall asleep after that? Tonight had gone from a failed date to one of the most erotic moments of my life. And the part that crushed me, that stole the chance of a restful sleep . . . was knowing this stubborn man would never let it happen again.
FOUR
Maria
Six thirty? Had I really managed to sleep? I reached for my phone to text Natalia, which was my morning ritual since splitting with Thomas. But I wasn’t sure how to start my message. A lot had happened to unpack.
And Enzo touching me, holding me close to him with his mouth at my ear last night, had met my needs when dance, real-estate classes, tai chi, and that date last night hadn’t come close to doing it.
Me: Enzo spent the night.
The little dots popped up, then disappeared a few times. My sister was probably flustered, but I knew she’d be awake. The little man in her tummy kept her up as much as Chiara’s sleep issues did for me.
Natalia: That’s not what I was expecting for my first text of the day.
Natalia: And this convo demands a phone call.
Me: He slept on the couch insisting he help with Chiara since I haven’t been sleeping well.
Natalia: When will he ever realize he’s not the villain in the story?
I was starting to wonder if there was a fine line between the classic idea of what it meant to be the villain and hero. My limited-to-fiction knowledge was being shaken up and redefined every moment alone I spent with Enzo. Because if he really was the antihero, as he saw himself, what’d that make me for still desperately wanting him?
Natalia: You need to talk to him. Maybe he’ll finally open up?
Me: Yeah, I don’t know. I guess I should go face the music, though. See if they’re awake. Talk tonight at work?
Natalia: Of course. Love you.
Me: Love you, too.
I tossed the phone onto the bed and went into the bathroom to brush my teeth and cover my flimsy nightshirt with a robe.
I caught sight of my tired eyes in the mirror, and visions of last night cut through my mind. My hand wandered down the length of my abdomen as I remembered his hand between my thighs.
“What are you doing to me?” I whispered, then shook my head and finally went in search of the mystery man.
The living room was empty, but his hat was on the couch. He had to be with Chiara, so I went down the hall to her room and gently opened the door, my heart colliding with my rib cage at the sight before me.
Enzo was asleep on the floor by the crib with his muscular, inked arm stretched out. His hand was wedged between the thin slats of wood, and I stepped closer and confirmed my little girl had her hand wrapped around his finger.
And that sight right there . . . was a void-filler for sure. Because my heart had never felt so full at the image.
He really did love Chiara, and I didn’t know how to put into words what that meant to me.
I finally peeled myself away from the room, deciding I’d cook for Enzo for a change and make breakfast.
Once in the kitchen, I grabbed what I needed for an omelet and began chopping a bell pepper but flinched at the feel of a hand skimming my silhouette before going to my hip.
“Enzo,” I whispered, my eyes closing at the feel of his cock twitching against my backside.
He brought his mouth to my ear and in a husky voice asked, “Did you sleep well?”
I leaned into him, letting go of the bell pepper and knife. “Better than you, I think. You didn’t need to sleep on the floor.”
“I can’t say no to her, and you know that.” He abruptly spun me around, and my eyes flashed open as his palms landed on the counter.
“You’re so good at saying no to me, though,” I reminded him as his gaze lowered to my pink robe.
“I didn’t last night, did I?” He kept his eyes on my body as he added with a slight smirk, “Are you cold, or do you not want me to see your nipples poke through that flimsy shirt again? Are you trying to behave?”
Holy hell. From zero to sixty this morning? I had been prepared for a different Enzo when he woke up. One who’d act like yesterday never happened and it’d been a mistake. “I, um.” I swallowed when his eyes journeyed back to my face. “Do you want me to behave?”
He cocked his head as if torn on how to answer that, but I could read the desire written into every line of his face. It’d been there for the last two years, I’d just been living in the land of disbelief so I wasn’t unfaithful to a man who never truly had my heart. And it was easy to understand that now, when the man standing before me so clearly owned it.
I reached up and ran a hand through his messy hair. There was just enough to grab hold of, and he angled his head a touch, as if enjoying my fingers running across his scalp. “Maybe you like it when I’m bad, though?”
He lifted his hands from the counter to untie my robe. “I don’t know what to do with you,” he said in a low, conflicted voice. “I made up my mind last night that there’d be no more repeats of what happened, and then I walked out here and saw you and . . .”
I let go of his hair, searching for his gaze, but he had his eyes down, hidden from me. “And what?” My nipples poked through the fabric as they went hard, and he shifted the robe from my shoulders and pushed it back so it fell to the floor.
“Now all I can think about is making you come, but this time while you sit on my face,” he said in a soft tone, almost as if he’d lost whatever interior battle he’d been fighting and was giving in.
His eyes closed, and that harsh line of his lips told a different story. He was still resisting. It was a warning to me not to get my hopes up. His hands turned to fists and swooped back alongside me, going to the counter once again to trap me.
He let go of a deep breath and finally looked at me. “Maria, I—” He dropped his words when the bell rang, and his gaze snapped toward the foyer. “Who in the hell would be at your door this early?”
My phone was on silent in the other room. My Apple Watch charging by the bed. If someone had called while I was in the kitchen with my sexy chef, I’d have missed it.
Our “almost a moment” was effectively disrupted, and Enzo went to the door.
I hurried after him, and my body went cold when he swung it open, seeing Thomas there.