Page 29 of Filthy and the Beast

Scoffing, I turn away. My dick is rock hard, all my nerves alive. Even before Vegas, my size has shaped how people relate to me. There’s always fear.

But Damian isn’t scared of me, not one little bit, and the way he stands there, back straight and not at all intimidated, is fucking hot.

He’s talking about therapy sex and how I’m constipated. Instead of telling him to go to hell, I’m sputtering, and my heart is pounding, and I’m thinking about how much I want to touch him.

I should be the one to satisfy him. The thought lands like a tidal wave.

“You know I’m right,” he says. “We need each other.”

The words are loaded. Damian stares, the weight hanging in the air. I’m huffing, frustrated, years of hurt and loneliness hollowing me out, but he doesn’t look at me like I’m the Sledgehammer. He looks at me the way he always has—defiant, with light in his eyes.

He looks at me like he wants me, too.

CHAPTERTWELVE

DAMIAN

Fuck,he’s such a teddy bear.

A wordless, emotionally jammed teddy bear with a giant erection.

He’s still my boss. This is way ahead of schedule for my planned proposition, and I didn’t offer any of my preamble, but my head is spinning.

Enzo is standing here, gazing at me like he wants to fuck me.

And I can’t stop thinking about how much I want to fuck him, too.

I step around the counter and forward, closing the distance between us until we’re only a foot apart. To hold his eye, I have to tilt my chin up, but while Enzo grinds his jaw and heat flames his cheeks, I don’t let go of his gaze.

He seems tender, as raw as when he first huffed into the kitchen tonight. Behind his silver-speckled beard and the pain in his eyes, something reaches out. I can feel desire coiling in him like a vibration against my skin.

He lifts his hand, almost reaching for me, and drops it again.

I want to do this. Against all logic, the moment is here, and I want to trust Enzo enough to do this. But I can’t move on an instinct. I need more from him than just the look in his eyes.

He doesn’t step away, so I talk slow and steady. “Okay. So you’re not satisfied. Then tell me what you want.”

Enzo’s chest rises and falls with a heavy breath. His piney body wash and the familiar, musky scent of his sweat fill the room.

“What I want,” he repeats, his voice a growl.

“Maybe I’ll give it to you.”

The words are dangerous. Electricity sparks between our bodies.

Speckled brown gaze burning into me, Enzo narrows his eyes, and he takes a heavy step forward. We’re toe-to-toe, almost touching. His lips quiver, words nearly forming. “You.”

My heart jumps.

“I want you,” he finishes roughly.

Heat pools at my base. This is a bad, bad idea, and youis nothing more than a word. He’s barely said anything. But the way he holds my gaze and the stern, serious promise in his voice—it throws me.

He said it like an oath. Like he truly means it.

Enzo’s gaze drops to my lips. He wants to kiss me but doesn’t know how. The longing in his expression almost breaks my heart—he’s so gentle. I nearly give in and throw myself at him, but catch myself.

He’s a tough guy, but I could wound him if I’m not careful, and I’m not going to let that happen. My heart says I need to protect myself, but it tells me to protect him, too.

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