ENZO
THEY BOTH SAW me the moment the door opened.
Eli froze like he’d been caught mid-sin, the smell of his heat fogging up every inch of that room. Sweat stuck to his curls, pupils wide and blown. He was straddling Tate like he couldn’t breathe without him, like instinct had eaten every rational thought in his head.
And Tate—f**k. Pinned beneath him, wrists red, shirt half-torn, still fighting like something cornered. His eyes snapped to mine. Wild. Furious.
That smell hit me.
Familiar. Sweet. Wrong.
Heat.
“Just once,” Eli whispered, not even seeing me. “Just once and it’ll stop.”
His fingers trembled against Tate’s skin. Breathing ragged. Mind gone. I stepped in quietly.
Tate noticed.
Eli didn’t.
Not until I said, “Touch him again and I’ll break your f*****g hands.”
Eli jerke
