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I didn’t stop him.
I kissed him back.
Hard.
Hungry.
His hands slipped under my thighs, lifting me onto like I weighed nothing. My knees bracketed his hips.
I felt the softness of my bed under me, trapping me under Enzo’s hard body.
It seemed impossible, but it made me want him even more.
“Tell me to stop,” he whispered against my lips.
I didn’t.
Because I didn’t want him to.
So I told the truth.
“Enzo, please don’t stop,” I said.
He dragged his mouth down my neck, biting at the place where my pulse pounded. I felt every scrape of his teeth like fire on my skin.
My fingers gripped his shoulders. His name escaped me like a whisper, like a dare.
“Say it again,” he growled.
“Enzo.”
That broke something in him.
Our clothes disappeared.
Our mouths collided.
Our bodies pressed and tangled together like they knew each other.
He kissed me like I was his.
Like he was tired of pretending I wasn’t.
His hands were rough as he touched me, claiming every inch of skin he touched.
His hands fisted my hips so tight I was sure I would bruise.
He loosened his hold to grip my hair and used the others to smooth down my body to settle between my thighs.
I was soaking for him, and sighed out and laid his forehead against mine.
He found my lips with his, and we locked eyes.
I held his gaze as he thrust into me, the strength of his movement forcing the air out of my lungs.
I arched beneath him, nails digging into his back. He groaned against my mouth like he’d been starving and just got fed.
The way he took me was brutal.