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Enzo rises from the tub like something dragged out of a dream—if dreams came soaked in sin and built to ruin you. My mouth goes dry as I drink him in. Every inch. Every goddamn detail. It’s criminal how perfect he is.

He’s tall, at least six-foot-four, which is so much taller than my measly five-foot-six. His jet black hair is slicked back from the water, and drops run down his broad shoulders. A trail of ink curls up his left arm in a full sleeve, and just above his heart, there’s a tat of a black puzzle piece.

My chest tightens as I think about the pieces he left for me.

A wolf sits above his ribs, and beneath its fur are the Roman letters S.P.Q.R. There’s a faint curved scar along his forearm, pale against his skin. And then… fuck, the cut abs, powerful thighs, and dusting of dark hair leading down from his stomach in a line I can’t stop following.

His thick cock is pointing straight at me, and God of everything unholy, I can’t help licking my lips. A low chuckle rolls from his throat as he takes a step toward me. When my gaze flies up, he arches a brow and wraps his hand around the base, stroking himself.

“Tell me, Toy, do you like finally seeing what you already fucking own?” he asks, his voice filled with gravel as he strokes himself once, slow and deliberate.

“Yes,” I squeak.

My thighs press together without permission as I watch his hand move slowly—so slowly—and my lips part on a gasp I don’t mean to make.

“You’re wet for me already, aren’t you?” He fists his dick harder.

Heat coils low in my belly, dark and liquid and impossible to ignore. I feel it, the wetness blooming between my thighs like betrayal. I thought I had the upper hand. Thought I was just mad. But now he’s working himself like it’s a game he’s already won—and my body is betraying me with every heartbeat.

It’s not just arousal; it’s a deep-rooted need. Raw and wrong and crackling under my skin. And the worst part? He fucking sees it. And still… I step closer. One foot, then another. I don’t know if I want to slap him or drop to my knees.

With each step I take forward, Enzo takes one backward until he reaches the edge of the tub. He’s still stroking himself as he sits down on the edge, completely unashamed. “Do you want a taste, Toy?”

I blink down at the tub. The water drains, the soft trickle slipping through the room like a whisper, even though I never saw him pull the plug. Looking back up, my gaze immediately settles on his thick, hardness. Even in his large hand it’s still big.

Oblivious to my thoughts, he just sits there, watching me with that infuriating smirk. The kind that doesn’t just promise I’ll fall to my knees. It dares me to try to resist it. Dares me to pretend I haven’t already lost.

I don’t even realize I’m moving until I’m close enough to touch him. Rather than going directly for his erection, I press my lips to his forearm, right over the ink that twists like vines along his skin. I drag my tongue across it, tasting soap, salt, and something purely Enzo—and he fucking groans. Low and dark.

My hands glide over his chest as I shift so I can lick my way up his torso. His flesh damp and sweet beneath my tongue, lingering along each curve and line, tracing every ridge and groove.

His hands settle around my nape, urging me on. I draw slow circles on his skin with my tongue, tight little spirals around his nipple until his chest heaves and his breath quickens and his heart thunders like a distant storm.

“Fuck,” he groans.

The space between us is electric, thick with unspoken needs. His eyes are the only things sharper than his jaw, colder than his resolve. He makes me work for every gasp, every groan.

When I bite into the soft skin of his neck, he finally gives me what I crave—a low, guttural growl, deep and raw. I whimper as his grip on me tightens, and he tilts my head back, exposing my throat.

He smirks down at me, slow and vicious, a wolf about to devour. “Don’t stop, Toy,” he demands. “Show me how greedy you are.”

“Yes,” I agree, my voice hoarse with want.

Enzo lets me take my time, lets me push and pull and break myself against his stillness. I suck a long, messy trail from his collarbone to his ribs, burying my nose in the hollow there, breathing him in.

Slipping lower, I press my lips to his hip, feeling the frantic pace of his blood just beneath the surface. I let my mouth brush against the tip of his cock, just enough to drive him wild. Then I lick the length of him, once, twice, over and over, his breath comes quicker, his muscles straining beneath his skin.

“Look at you,” he says, his voice filled with gravel. “You love this. You love having my cock in your mouth.” I swallow the moan that almost escapes my lips.

His hands grip tighter, pulling me back up to his chest, his mouth hot against my ear. “Such a greedy little toy.” I protest, not happy he stopped me from taking all of him into my mouth. “But if you want my dick, you have to ask.”

I try to rear back, but he stops me. “Fuck you,” I hiss.

“Not until you ask,” he smirks. “And you better make it nice.”

Anger stirs in my stomach, making me fight his hold. My nails dig into his chest, but he doesn’t let me go. Not even when I break his skin.

“I’m not going to beg,” I snap. “You just told me you’ve been fucking stalking me. How do I even know you’re not the one who put me in the hospital?” The second the words leave my mouth I wish I could take them back.