“Stop,” Enzo commanded. “There’s glass over there.”
I went still and looked at the fireplace, where I’d barely noticed the shards of glass. From the looks of it, he’d angrily hurled more than one glass. “Talk to me,” I begged, slowly turning, not expecting to see him inches away, his gaze on me.
The light from the fire bounced off his hard features, and I flinched when he reached out and ran a finger up the column of my throat before tipping my chin. “You shouldn’t be here.”
“But I am.” I hoped he wouldn’t notice the nervous swallow, but the slight tip of his head with his eyes focused on my throat meant he had. “Why are you drunk? Why are your brothers flying here?”
He closed his eyes and his hand fell back to his side. He started to bring the bottle to his mouth, but I reached for his forearm, an attempt to stop him. His eyes flashed open, catching mine, and his lips hardened as if I’d defied him.
“Always playing with fire. What will I ever do with you?” he murmured instead of answering me. He pulled his arm away and brought the rim of the bottle to my lips. “Want a taste, baby?”
I had to remind myself he’d been drinking, and I’d never experienced this man at anything less than 100 percent in control. I had no idea what to expect.
He dragged the bottle tip along the line of my lips, forcing them to part, and I was certain he wanted to see my lips wrapped around something and it wasn’t the bottle. And I shouldn’t have been aroused by that fact. Because the unspoken reason why he was drinking from the bottle still hung in the air between us.
“I want you to stop drinking so you can talk to me. Sober up first if you have to, but—”
“If you want me to stop drinking, then you’ll need to distract me.” He lowered the bottle to his side.
I wet my lips, growing both hotter and more nervous by the second. “How do you propose I do that?”
The side of his lips hitched. “Tell me about that list of yours. What’s on it?” He turned and went to the window, but he set his back to it instead of looking out at the city.
“Why would you care about that right now?” I crossed the space and boldly took the bottle from him, and he didn’t stop me. Once the whiskey was at a safe distance away from him, I returned to find him with the back of his head against the glass, eyes steadily on me.
“I’m angry. If you don’t want me leaving this apartment and unleashing hell on the first fucker who crosses me,” he began while shoving away from the window to stalk closer to me with confident strides, “then distract me.”
“With the list?”
He stopped before me and gently cupped my cheek, a contrast to the asshole-like attitude he was trying to portray. “What’s number five? Does it go that high?” A dark smile cut across his mouth.
“Higher,” I whispered, captivated by the powerful man before me, ready to bend to his will when I normally loved to challenge him at every turn.
“So?” He angled his head, waiting. “Number five?”
Dizzy with need but knowing I’d never act on it, given his state, I closed my eyes, and my entire body heated as I admitted the truth. “That you take me, well, um . . .”
His hand slid into my hair, and he gripped my locks to draw my face closer. I could feel his whiskey breath near my lips, but I didn’t give him my gaze like I knew he wanted. “Your ex wouldn’t know what to do with an ass like yours. You’ve never been taken there, have you, Tesoro?” He grabbed hold of my ass, and a shuddery gasp fell from my lips at the feel of his rock-hard cock pressing against me.
“No.” That hadn’t been what I’d planned to say, but maybe it should’ve been on the list? “You’d be the first.”
“Good.” He surprised me by dropping his mouth over mine, only to lightly nip my lower lip as he squeezed my ass, and then he released both my lip and flesh and eased back a step.
I blinked free from my stupor a moment later when realization struck me. “I’m not distracting you.” My hand went to his chest. “You’re trying to distract me. You don’t want me to know something.”
He dipped his chin to look at my palm over his heart.
“Tell me what Jesse said to you. Who is he really?”
He smirked, his hard gaze meeting mine again. “John Wick.”
“Real funny.” I thought back to the man I’d met earlier tonight in the parking lot. “I didn’t know John wore flannel.” I tensed at the fact he didn’t seem to be joking about John Wick. “If he’s a contract killer, are you?”
“No, I’m a chef.” His tone was softer than I’d expected that time.
“And before?”
“Go home, Maria. I’m not doing this tonight. Everything is about to change, and I need one night to—”
“Fall apart before it does?” And what is going to change? I wanted to cry, to beg him for the answers he didn’t want to give me.
“Yes,” he hissed, his chin angrily jutting out. “So leave me alone and let me fall the fuck apart.”
I shook my head. “No, I won’t let you do that.”
“Stay here and watch it happen or go. Those are your choices.” When he tried to turn, to escape, I hooked the waistband of his pants with my finger and tugged.
He slowly turned, zeroing in on my face as if he were on the verge of putting me in my place. Quite literally. And I knew where I longed to be. With him. Or maybe beneath him.
But not tonight. I’d never let him take me while he was drunk—not because I didn’t want it but because he’d never forgive himself for it afterward.
“Fire,” he mouthed, as if warning me I was on the verge of getting burned. “Hell is my playground, not yours.”
“Then give me an invitation,” I snapped back, tears in my eyes. “Because if you’re there right now, then I want to be, too.”
“No, you don’t.”
His dark smile only emboldened me. “Don’t tell me what I want.”
“You think what you learned this morning is bad, it’s just the tip of the iceberg, sweetheart. You wouldn’t walk away from me if you knew everything. You’d run.”
“I don’t believe you.” Well, not about the running part, at least. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, so go ahead, give me your best shot. Try and push me away with details about your past and watch me take two steps closer instead.”
His lips lifted, showing a hint of his teeth as he hissed like a wounded, frightened animal in the wild.
But silence was all he gave me. He really is scared I’ll leave him, isn’t he?
“Fine,” I grumbled, realizing he had no plans to share. “You want a distraction?” I pointed to his bedroom. “Then give me number six.”
His expression softened. “What’s number six?”
“I’ll show you.” I huffed out a breath, flicked off the switch for the gas fireplace, then walked into his bedroom and turned on the light.
I spun around to see him hanging just outside his room with his arms folded while he leaned into the interior doorframe, eyes steady on me.
“Tell me.” His gaze walked up the length of me, landing last on my lips.
“You need to get off, right? I know we can’t have sex tonight, but I also don’t want you going outside and ‘unleashing hell,’ as you called it, so . . . take a shower and get off. Maybe it’ll help sober you up a little.”
“What’s that have to do with your list?”
I peeled off my top and tossed it. My tank top went next. He’d seen me in a bra the other day, but he’d never seen me seen me. I went for the clip of my black satin bra, and he kept quiet, watching me but not stopping me. When I freed my tits from the uncomfortable underwire, he pushed away from the doorframe and strode closer, and my breathing only picked up. Hard, hot, and fast.
“What are you doing?” He palmed his dick over his sweats, more than likely not realizing he was doing it as he approached me.
“I’m giving you something to look at while you release all that tension,” I explained, feeling a little crazy.