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FIVE
Molly
Morning sunlight spilledacross the hardwood floor when I stepped out of my room.
After last night, I wasn’t sure what I expected.
But one thing I definitely didn’t expect was the smell of fresh coffee and the sound of a screwdriver against metal.
And Enzo crouched in front of the door—shirtless.
I stopped breathing.
His muscles flexed under golden skin as he adjusted the screws, pure sin in motion. He’d carelessly tossed his shirt and jacket over the recliner, and his pants clung to his waist, teasing what was underneath and making me want to throw my dignity right out of the door and fall at his feet.
I was so busy ogling him that I didn’t notice he’d turned to look at me.
Busted.
He smirked when he caught my eye. “Good morning.”
“That’s debatable.”
His smile wavered and he looked concerned. “You get any sleep at all?”
I shrugged and found myself being honest. “Barely.”
“You should have joined me. The chair’s not as bad as it looks.”
The softness in his eyes made me feel exposed. I looked away and stared at the door. “What are you doing to my door?”
“I didn’t like the look of those hinges, so I’m fixing them,” he said. “Figured I’d finish the job. I don’t like half-done things.”
He turned back to his work. My eyes followed the slope of his shoulders, the line of his back. I hated how much I wanted to touch him, study every inch of him, commit him to memories that I would carry forever.
“You want coffee? Even though I wouldn’t call that instant crap coffee,” he said.
I blinked. “What?”
He nodded to the kitchen. “Coffee. I made enough for two.”
I smiled. “You drink coffee like a normal person, huh?”
“Define normal,” he said.
I snorted and went to the kitchen to pour a cup. When I came back, he was standing, shirtless, wiping sweat off his chest with a paper towel.
My body went hot and cold all at once.
“You keep doing that on purpose,” I muttered.
He raised a brow. “Doing what?”
“That,” I said, my eyes on his chest.
He stepped closer. I didn’t move.
“Is it working?”