Page 23 of SINS & Lies

Enzo

“Queen of hearts,” Mateo utters, surprised at the card Sin just dealt me.

It’s as if he’s never played poker with me before.

Pissed, his cards go flying onto the pile. Followed by Dillon’s and Dante’s as they bitch below their breaths.

I sit there, smiling. Not because I’m about to win this hand, with only Smoke left in the game, but because they’re all here. In one room. My brothers.

And I know the dangers. After our father’s disappearance, we made a pact to never be in one spot—not all of us. But the truth is, despite the risks, I’m too drained to care and too relieved to put up a fight.

And with them surrounding me, their protective presence and animal warmth all around, it’s obvious that they’re all here for me.

It’s also obvious that Father Malone’s gossip game is stronger than TMZ’s.

Which means I owe him a whole case of cigars because I’ve missed them. So much so that most days, the ache in my chest is hard and intense, and it feels like it’s crushing me from the inside out.

With a consoling pat on Mateo’s back, Smoke grins. “Don’t worry. He may have won the hand, but he lost the war with”—he motions to my face—“a frying pan? Or was it your little lady friend?”

“Apparently, he likes it rough,” Dillon winks.

And just like that, Bella comes to mind, instantly consuming my thoughts.

Would she like it fast and rough? Or torturously slow? I’ve had sex so many ways and with so many women, the act has become bland and emotionless. To the point where pleasing them has become an afterthought.

Sad, but true.

And yes, I’m a total asshole. So sue me.

Many women have.

But Kennedy stirs something in me I can’t quite put my finger on. Or carve out. It’s odd because I’m well acquainted with lust, and that’s not it. Even obsession somehow falls short.

It’s not about her luscious ass or gorgeous, fuckable tits though the glorious thought of riding either of them has me adjusting in my seat. And don’t even get me started on the intoxicating scent of her cunt.

It’s her lips.

So full, so inviting, begging to be kissed.

And her eyes, deep and mysterious, like two pools of temptation I want to drown in.

And that damn freckle—a taunting little heart-shaped mark stamped on her neck—teasing me, tempting me to touch it every chance I get.

Facts are facts. I want her.

Even now, I’m crawling out of my skin, starved for one touch—one taste. It’s like the damned woman has somehow managed to rewire my desires at their most basic, primal level.

I breathe through the strain in my pants. So, this is what a voodoo hex feels like.

Another flash of her legs spread eagle and my tongue licking up her flesh sends a surge of need through me so strong I grit my teeth.

Out of nowhere, a poker chip flicks me in the nose.

I blink out of my sex-fogged mind to find my brothers and Sin all staring at me.

I straighten up. “What?”

“It’s your turn,” Sin says.

---