Page 98 of Enzo
Then, finally, “Maybe you shouldn’t.”
His voice was low. Flat. But he wasn’t indifferent—a fact evidenced by the way he took my hand and gripped it even tighter. Like he was scared that I’d pull away from his touch.
I looked down at our joined fingers.
“I’m scared,” I whispered, staring at his shaved head, a reminder of Amara’s illness.
“I know. I’m scared too,” he admitted.
His jaw flexed as he looked at me. Really looked.
And for a second, I saw it: the guilt he wouldn’t name and the invisible war he waged.
“You know, I’m not just a pretty face,” I said. “I can help you with… stuff. Help you carry the load.”Whatever that load might be.
“Duly noted,mia anima.”
He didn’t speak again for the rest of the drive. And neither did I.
But his hand never left mine.
And maybe that was enough—for now.
I kicked my shoes off as we stepped inside.
The cottage seemed darker and quieter than ever before with the dull hum of the house and our breaths settling in.
We paused in the hallway, standing barely two feet apart. I couldn’t shake off the feeling that something cold and dangerous settled between us.
Enzo looked like he wanted to say something.
I waited for it, hoping.
His fists clenched at his sides, he took a step toward me, then brushed his knuckles against my face.
“I’ve never seen anything or anyone as beautiful as you,” he rasped, making my chest ache. “I don’t know if I can ever let you go.”
Tears burned behind my eyes, sharp and unexpected.
My stomach turned. “Then don’t ever let me go… if I’ve done something wrong?—”
“You didn’t.”
The words were low. Rough. Almost a growl.
Another step and the whole hallway shifted. My chest pressed against his hard body.
“You’re mine,” he said. He reached out hesitantly and softened his hand against my cheek. I leaned into his touch, eyes closing, breathing him in. “Even though I don’t deserve you. Even though my hands are stained in blood. Even though?—”
I pressed my finger against his mouth, silencing him. Then I lifted on my tiptoes and kissed him, showing him he was my entire world.
We kissed urgently, like it was our last night on earth.
We weren’t careful. Nor gentle. Our movements were raw and electric, both of us pouring our emotions into a kiss that said everything words never could.
Enzo’s hands were hungry as he roamed my body. When he touched my breast, I arched into his touch. When his fingers reached my thighs, I opened for him. My body was just for him, his own personal instrument.
He grabbed the hem of my sweater dress and pulled away just enough to yank it over my head.
