Page 22 of The Enforcer's Brat

"Matteo?" he mumbled, fighting to keep his eyes open.

"Hmm?"

"What happens now? With us, I mean."

Matteo was quiet for a long moment, his hand stilling where it had been carding through Enzo's hair. Just when Enzo thought he wasn't going to answer, Matteo spoke.

"Now," he said, his voice low and fierce, "you're mine. Completely. And I take care of what's mine, Enzo. Always."

The possessiveness in Matteo's tone sent a shiver down Enzo's spine, equal parts thrilling and terrifying. He knew they still had a lot to figure out – the complications of their positions, the dangers that lurked outside these walls. But for now, wrapped in Matteo's arms, Enzo felt safer than he ever had before.

"Yours," he agreed, snuggling closer. "I like the sound of that."

As sleep finally claimed him, Enzo's last coherent thought was that maybe, just maybe, he'd found where he truly belonged. In the arms of a man who saw him for who he really was, who challenged him and protected him in equal measure.

Whatever came next, whatever obstacles they faced, Enzo knew one thing for certain: He and Matteo would face it together. And God help anyone who tried to come between them.

CHAPTER 8

AFTERMATH

The first rays of morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, painting the room in a soft, golden glow. Enzo stirred, his body aching in the most delicious ways as consciousness slowly returned. He stretched, catlike, reveling in the pleasant soreness that reminded him of the night's activities.

A warm, solid presence at his back made him pause. Matteo. The events of the previous night came rushing back, sending a thrill through Enzo's body. He'd finally gotten what he wanted—Matteo's hands on him, Matteo inside him, claiming him completely.

Enzo rolled over carefully, not wanting to wake the older man. In sleep, Matteo's face was softer, the ever-present tension eased from his brow. Enzo couldn't resist reaching out, tracing the line of Matteo's jaw with gentle fingers.

Steel-gray eyes snapped open, instantly alert. Matteo's hand shot out, grabbing Enzo's wrist in a grip that was firm but not painful.

"Morning," Enzo said, aiming for nonchalance even as his heart raced. "Sleep well?"

Matteo's eyes narrowed slightly, searching Enzo's face. After a moment, he released Enzo's wrist, his expression softening. "Morning," he rumbled, voice rough with sleep. "How are you feeling?"

The genuine concern in Matteo's tone made something warm bloom in Enzo's chest. "A little sore," he admitted with a cheeky grin. "But in all the right ways."

A flash of possessive pride crossed Matteo's face before he schooled his features. "Good," he said gruffly. "You should drink some water, maybe take a hot bath. It'll help with the soreness."

Enzo's grin widened. "Aw, are you worried about me, old man? Going soft on me already?"

Matteo's eyes darkened, a low growl rumbling in his chest. In one swift motion, he had Enzo pinned beneath him, wrists held above his head. "I'll show you soft, brat," he growled, nipping at Enzo's throat.

Enzo gasped, arching into the touch. His body, already primed from memories of the night before, responded eagerly to Matteo's dominance. "Please," he whimpered, rocking his hips up to seek friction.

Matteo pulled back abruptly, leaving Enzo bereft and confused. "We need to talk," he said, his voice back to its usual controlled tone.

Enzo's stomach dropped. Those four words never led anywhere good. "About what?" he asked, trying to keep the nervousness from his voice.

Matteo sighed, releasing Enzo's wrists and sitting up. "About this. Us. What happened last night."

Enzo sat up too, drawing his knees to his chest in an unconsciously defensive posture. "What's there to talk about? We fucked. It was hot. End of story."

"It's not that simple, and you know it," Matteo said, running a hand through his sleep-mussed hair. "I'm your bodyguard, Enzo. I'm supposed to protect you, not... this."

"And who says you can't do both?" Enzo challenged, a familiar defiance rising in his chest. "You seemed pretty good at 'protecting' me last night. Multiple times, if I recall correctly."

Matteo's jaw clenched, a muscle ticking beneath the skin. "This isn't a joke, Enzo. There are rules, protocols?—"

"Fuck the rules," Enzo interrupted. "Fuck protocols. I want you, Matteo. And I know you want me too. Why can't that be enough?"

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