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We pull over so fast that I almost get whiplash. I watch with bated breath as Enzo whips out his phone and logs into some sort of database.
“What is this?”
“I spent a few years compiling and automatically updating every tracking device sold in this state,” he explains as he punches in some code. “Fuck.”
He shoots out of the car, and I rush to follow. We circle the vehicle, desperately trying to find the device. When Enzo tugs a tiny plastic box out of the wheel well, fear seeps into my bones.
Does my car have a tracker? Can they put trackers on people?I never learned about this tech shit.
The drive back to my car, still parked at 23rd and Mavis, is silent. Whatever slightly joyful, nostalgic mood we were in earlier has dissipated like smoke. When we pull up to my car, a bout of shivers hits me and my skin breaks out in goosebumps.
“Let me check yours,” Enzo says, pulling out his phone and studying the database. After he confirms that my vehicle is clear, I move to get out, but something stops me.
“Enzo? I…” I pause, wondering if I’m overstepping.
“What is it?”
His look of concern floods my heart with warmth, and I know that if nothing else, he still cares for me in some way. So, I lay my cards on the table.
“Alfonso took Matilda back to California tonight to visit my parents for a few days,” I start, playing with my rings nervously. “And I have guards and stuff, but I just…”
“Get to the point, will ya?” he jokes, smiling softly at me. “I’m already dying to say yes.”
“I just don’t want to be alone tonight.”
“Lenny, I thought you’d never ask.” He grins. “Let’s switch cars, though, since yours is clear. I’ll get one of my guys to do a second sweep of mine and deliver it to my place.”
We speed down the darkened streets as my cheeks turn to fire.He knows what I want. This isn’t an innocent sleepover.
In the elevator, I marvel at the beautiful Art Deco design and gold filigree climbing up the mirrors. I’m talking a million miles a minute, trying to fill the empty space between us. Enzo just watches me with a smirk, his gaze moving from my lips to my eyes and back.
I fluster, remembering this is how he always made me feel back then—like I’m all-powerful yet powerless in his presence. Finally, as the elevator dings open on the penthouse floor, Enzo slides his finger across my lips and shushes me.
I take a grateful breath and step into his luxurious apartment. Before I can joke about his standard-issue bachelor pad, he slams me against the wall and crushes his lips to mine. I gasp, overwhelmed and intoxicated by the smell and feel of him on me.
“Wait, Enzo…” I try to protest. My brain speeds through a million excuses I could use to nip this in the bud, but I come up short.
I don’t want this to stop. I need this—need him.
His ragged breathing on my neck brings me back to the present. He’s stopped kissing me, but holds me pressed against the wall with his body.
“Tell me what you want,” he begs, and I know I’m driving him wild, sending mixed signals.
What do I want? I want him, every single inch of him. I want his taste, his mouth, his hands—I want to feel it all again.
“You,” I whisper. “I want you.”
He groans and slips his ice-cold hands under my sweater, sliding them up slowly as he kisses his way down my neck.
My skin breaks out in goosebumps at the frigid touch and sends shivers down my body. His hot mouth quickly replaces his fingers, trailing across my ribs and warming up the frozen parts of me.
This combination of cold and hot sends my body into a flurry of excitement and confusion. I tug at his jacket, quickly stripping off his shirt. For a second, I just stare at the beauty in front of me—Enzo, with those gorgeous watercolor tattoos splashed across his chest and arms, on his knees.
He shoots me a wicked smile that knocks the air out of my lungs. My pants disappear in seconds and then he’s parting my legs, looking like he’s desperate to taste me.
“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this,” he moans. “How many times I fantasized about this.”
I eye the elevator, realizing it could open at any time, and I’ll be caught here with my pants down. Pleasure quickly replaces panic as Enzo’s tongue slips between my legs.