ENZO
HE WAS TREMBLING beneath my hands, breath catching like every touch pulled him apart. And still, somehow, he had the nerve to look at me like he didn’t believe a single thing I’d said.
I should’ve been angry. Hell, part of me was. But it wasn’t the kind of anger that pushed me away—it dragged me closer.
His heartbeat thudded against my palm, sharp and frantic, and I could feel the warmth of him even through the thin barrier between us. My hand tightened around his bulge almost unconsciously, and the sound that left him—Gods. It hit somewhere low in my spine.
He didn’t see it. He couldn’t. The way he looked up at me, pupils blown wide, lips parted, skin flushed—it did something I couldn’t undo.
I leaned in, watching every twitch, every breath.
“Look at you,” I murmured. My voice
