Page 42 of His Ruthless Vow

“I want you,” I gasp out.

Enzo groans as his fingers hook into my underwear, dragging the lace down my thighs. Cool air hits my skin, followed immediately by the heat of his palm as he cups me from behind. I can't stop the moan that escapes my lips, my nails dragging against the wall seeking purchase against the storm of sensation.

"So wet for me already," he murmurs, the smugness in his tone only turning me on more. He knows exactly what he's doing—playing my body like an instrument he's studied for years rather than weeks.

I hear the sound of his belt, the zipper, clothes being pushed aside rather than removed. There's no patience here, no slow seduction. This is raw need, too urgent for niceties.

His fingers find me first, testing, circling, making sure I'm ready. The gesture holds more consideration than his rough words suggest. That's Enzo—danger wrapped in surprising moments of care.

"Now," I demand, grinding back against him, past the point of pride.

He enters me in one deep thrust, filling me completely, stretching me to the edge of pleasure and pain. I choke on his name, my body yielding completely to his invasion, giving him everything he's claimed as his. My hands flatten against the wall, searching for stability as he withdraws almost completely before driving in again, setting a relentless pace.

One of his hands wraps around my throat—not squeezing, just holding, asserting control—while the other grips my hip hard enough to leave marks. Tomorrow, I'll wear the evidence of this moment beneath my carefully selected work clothes, a secret reminder of what happens when my control slips.

Our sex is fast, hard, desperate—the kind of claiming that leaves no room for second thoughts or regrets. It's not gentle, not sweet. It's fire and ruin, the collapse of every wall I've tried to build between us. My body responds to his every thrust, every touch, like he's unlocked something wild in me that I've kept caged for too long.

"Look at you," he growls, his rhythm never faltering. "Taking me so perfectly."

I lose track of time, of place, of everything except Enzo. His body drives into mine with relentless precision, each thrust hitting deeper than the last. I'm losing myself, fragmenting under his assault, pleasure building in impossible waves until I can barely breathe. This isn't just sex—it's claiming, marking, a battle neither of us can lose.

My legs begin to tremble, muscles tightening as he pushes me toward the edge. His pace becomes punishing, desperate, his grip on my hips almost painful as he pulls me back against him.

"Come for me," he commands, voice hoarse and strained. "Now."

My body obeys before my mind can process the demand. The orgasm crashes through me with devastating force, tearing a cry from my throat. I feel myself clenching around him, waves of pleasure so intense I might black out. My vision blurs, fingernails scraping uselessly against the wall as I try to anchor myself against the storm.

Behind me, Enzo groans, a primal sound that vibrates through his chest into my back. His rhythm falters, hips jerking against mine as he follows me over the edge, emptying himself inside me with several hard, final thrusts. The sensation of him pulsing within me triggers another smaller aftershock, my body milking him for everything he can give.

For several moments after, neither of us speaks. The only sound is our ragged breathing as we try to recover, my forehead pressed against the cool wall, his against my shoulder. We stay locked together, my back against his chest, his arms wrapped around me, hands still gripping my hips like he's afraid I'll disappear if he lets go.

The silence stretches between us, heavy with unspoken questions. What just happened? What does this mean? Where do we go from here? But I don't voice any of them, and neither does he. We just breathe, letting our heartbeats slow together, his warmth seeping into me where our skin touches.

Finally, Enzo shifts, slipping out of me with a gentleness that contradicts everything that came before. I expect him to step back, to recreate the careful distance we've maintained until tonight. Instead, his arms slide under my legs, and he lifts me against his chest in one fluid motion.

I'm too exhausted to protest, my body limp from the intensity of what we just shared. I let my head fall against his shoulder, inhaling the scent of his skin—cologne mixed with sweat and sex.

He carries me through his apartment with sure steps, as if my weight is nothing to him. When we reach his bedroom, Paige and Penny lift their heads from their plush dog beds in the corner, tails immediately thumping against the floor at the sight of me. They look happy, almost expectant, like they've been waiting for me to arrive. It strikes me as odd that these animals have accepted me so easily when their master has fought it at every turn.

Enzo sets me on the edge of his bed, those steel-gray eyes finally meeting mine. Something unreadable passes over his face—vulnerability, maybe, though I'm not sure he's capable of it.

"You can leave," he says, voice rough but quiet. "If you want."

My throat tightens at the unexpected offer. After everything—the deal, the threats, the possessive way he just took me—he's giving me a choice. It's the last thing I expected from him. From the dangerous capo who demands loyalty, who takes what he wants without asking.

I should go. Walk away before this becomes something more than a business arrangement complicated by sex. Before I forget who he is—what he is.

But I don't move. Instead, I shake my head, my decision already made.

"I've made my choice," I say, my voice steadier than I feel.

His eyes darken, that controlled mask slipping just enough for me to see the satisfaction underneath. He doesn't smile—Enzo rarely does—but something in his expression shifts, softens for just a moment before the predator returns.

26

ENZO

Iwake to the first light of morning seeping through blinds I forgot to close, my internal clock doing its usual job of dragging me from sleep before my alarm. There's a moment of disorientation as my senses register the unfamiliar weight on the mattress beside me.

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