Page 29 of Enzo (Redcars #1)

TWENTY-NINE

Robbie

I woke to darkness, feeling a rush of panic at the weight pressing down on my waist. But then a familiar scent—Enzo, with hints of oil and citrus—washed over me, and I felt myself relax. That scent grounded me instantly. It was the opposite of fear, the opposite of cold metal and bleach and darkness. It reminded me where I was—who I was with. Enzo. Safety. Warmth. My heart stopped racing because that scent wasn’t just his—it was mine now, too, a new kind of memory replacing the old ones that used to haunt me.

“Hey,” Enzo murmured. I felt a flush of embarrassment, aware of the lingering high from my orgasm. But a question nagged at me—had Enzo also found his release, or had I taken everything he offered without giving anything back? I whimpered, curling into myself. “Hey, you’re okay,” he added.

“I’m fine,” I managed, though my voice betrayed me. “It’s just… I didn’t—did you…?” The words tangled in my throat, too awkward to voice.

Enzo’s arm tightened around my waist; his breath warm on my neck. “Did I what?” he asked.

I buried my face in the pillow. “Did you, when you… like… did you… finish?”

He pressed a kiss to my neck. “Is that what you’re worried about?” He shifted, propping himself on one elbow to stare down at me as I wriggled to face him, ignoring the aches in my bones. His dark hair was rumpled from sleep, eyes still heavy-lidded. Seeing him like that—unguarded and soft in the morning light—hit me hard. Awe bloomed in my chest, followed closely by a warm, aching desire. He was nothing like the fierce, protective man who stood between me and my nightmares. He looked real. Touchable. Mine. And I wanted to hold on to him for the first time, not because I was afraid, but because I wasn’t. “I got everything I wanted and more, trust me.”

“But—”

“Watching you fall apart was enough,” he said, brushing a strand of hair from my face. “More than enough.”

“I want to make you feel good, too,” I admitted, eyes fixed on a point near his collarbone. “Doc said?—”

“Let’s not bring Doc into this,” Enzo cut in, and I winced. “Sorry,” he added, “I might owe him for saving your life, but that asshole doesn’t deserve a space with us.”

“Okay.”

We embraced tightly, and I nestled into his chest, feeling his heart’s warm, steady rhythm beneath my cheek. My lips brushed his throat, savoring his skin’s subtle, salty taste. My fingers traced the intricate patterns of the tattoos on his arms, exploring the stories inked beneath my touch. One near his elbow caught my attention—a black raven in flight, wings stretched wide, feathers inked with delicate precision, and a gate wide open behind.

“A raven?” I asked.

“Freedom,” he whispered.

He groaned softly as my fingertips grazed a sensitive spot just beneath his collarbone. Then he shifted away, grabbing two bottles of water and handing one to me. As he moved, the tattoo across his shoulder caught the light—bold black ink stretching with muscle and motion. A rough and ready scraped and drawn wolf tangled in thorns. Heavy. Deliberate. A cover-up.

“And the wolf with the thorns?” I asked.

Enzo paused. His body went still, jaw tightening for a second. Then he took a drink and looked at me—not evasive, not ashamed. Just… honest.

“Inside,” he said, voice low, “Mateo wanted me to come back. Be Stone Cross again. I told him no. He said I would be a lone wolf then. Exposed. Vulnerable. He meant it as a threat, but the image stuck with me. There was this guy, built like a linebacker, soft as anything he tattooed over what was there.

He tapped his shoulder lightly, fingers brushing the ink. “The thorns, though… those are mine. For the people I hurt. The lines I crossed. The shit I did just to survive, to stay loyal to the wrong kind of family. This isn’t art. It’s regret, marked permanent.”

He turned to face me, his gaze locked on mine, voice raw

“But I’m not that person anymore. And I swear to you, Robbie—I would never, ever hurt you.”

It wasn’t a promise made lightly. He wasn’t trying to impress me. He was giving me a truth carved out of blood and mistakes.

“I know,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

Something dangerous glinting behind the softness in his eyes. “But if anyone touches you, even breathes wrong around you—I won’t hold back. I don’t care who they are. I don’t care what it costs. I will burn the world down before I let someone hurt you again.”

It wasn’t a threat. It was a vow.

And somehow, hearing it didn’t scare me. Not from him. It settled in my chest like armor, like safety.

He’d fight anyone. Everyone.

For me.

“I want to touch you and make you feel good.”

“You don’t owe me that?—”

“I want to.”

Something darkened in his eyes. “Robbie?”

Instead of answering, I leaned up and pressed my lips to his. Unlike our desperate kisses from last night, this was gentle, questioning. His hand left my hair and cradled my face, thumb stroking my cheek as he kissed me back with a tenderness that made my chest ache.

“Tell me,” I murmured against his skin. “Tell me what you like.”

“I like kissing you. I like you sitting on my lap, safe in my arms.” He dipped his gaze as if that embarrassed him.

“I like all of those, but I also want to make you come,” I said as boldly as I could manage.

Enzo pulled back to study my face. “You’re not just doing it because you think I expect you to?—”

“No,” I said, surprised by how sure I was. “I want to learn your body the way you’ve learned mine.”

His throat bobbed as he swallowed. “Fuck, I want that,” he whispered, voice husky. “But we go at your pace.”

I nodded, feeling a surge of both nervousness and determination as I pushed gently at his shoulder. He went willingly, rolling onto his back. I followed, propping myself up to look down at him. I could see him properly in the morning light—the lean muscle beneath his warm-toned skin, scars on his belly, the dark trail of hair disappearing beneath the sheet that barely covered his hips.

“You’re staring,” he said, a hint of vulnerability in his voice I’d never heard before.

“You’re beautiful.”

His laugh was brief and self-conscious. “I’m bruised and cut and used up,” he murmured.

I shook my head and tapped his pec right over a compass tattoo. “Beautiful. Dangerous. Safety.” Then I smiled at him. “Mine.”

A slow smile spread across his face, his eyes darkening as he reached up to touch my cheek. “Yours, huh?”

“Is that okay?” I asked, uncertain. This was the first sex I’d had, and it mattered. He mattered, and I wanted to show him that.

“More than okay,” he murmured. “I’ve been yours since you first opened your eyes.”

“My protector.”

“Yours.”

“My lover.”

“Yours. Always yours.”

I paused. “I don’t know how to be with someone where it doesn’t hurt.”

My confession sent a shiver through me, and he caught my hand and laced our fingers. Something real passed between us, and I broke my exploration of his skin to move my lips along his jaw, pressing a quick kiss to his soft lips, then down the column of his throat, feeling his pulse quicken beneath my mouth. His skin tasted like heaven, and I wanted more.

“Can I?” I asked, my fingers playing with the edge of the sheet at his waist.

He nodded, his breath catching as I pulled the sheet away. I tried not to be obvious in my staring, but it was impossible not to appreciate his beauty, exposed to me. My gaze traced over his body, taking in every detail, every scar, the hard lines and soft curves that made him Enzo.

“You’re still staring,” he said, voice rough.

“I can’t help it,” I admitted. “I’ve never… not like this. Not when it mattered.”

His eyes softened. “Come here,” he said, reaching for me.

But I shook my head. “Not yet. I want to touch you first.”

I let my hands explore, tracing the thick vein running the length of his cock, the loose skin stretched over the purple tip of his cock, watching how his body responded to my touch. His breathing grew ragged, eyes half-closed but never leaving my face. I marveled at the power I felt—not the kind that John had wielded over me, but something shared.

“Is this okay?” I whispered.

Enzo’s laugh was strangled. “More than okay,” he managed, his hips shifting beneath my hand. “You’re driving me crazy.”

“Good-crazy?” I asked, my fingers tightening, experimenting with pressure.

“The best kind,” he groaned, his hand gripping the sheets with a desperate intensity. “God, Robbie.”

“It’s Roman,” I whispered. “My real name is Roman, or Ro if you want it to be ours. A secret.”

His eyes widened in shock. “Don’t tell anyone else,” he said urgently.

I shook my head. “Just us.”

“Roman,” he said so quietly, testing it on his tongue. His expression softened as he reached up to touch my face. “Roman,” he whispered again. “It suits you.”

“No one’s called me that in years,” I admitted, my hand still moving slowly.

“Fuck, sweetheart, you can be whoever you want to be with me,” Enzo said, his voice strained as his hips lifted slightly into my touch. “Robbie, Roman, Ro… you’re still you.”

“I think I want to be who Roman was again, before John—before I got lost,” I whispered. “But only with you.”

His eyes darkened. “I like having something that’s just ours.”

I leaned down to kiss his thigh, feeling bolder now. His hands came up to tangle in my hair, but he didn’t push or force me; he stroked and reassured me. “Is this okay? Are you okay?” he kept asking, but instead of getting defensive, I loved that he cared, and I was overwhelmed by the tenderness of his concern.

“More than okay,” I whispered, kissing his hip bone. I took a breath, gathering my courage. He was uncut, thick, hard as stone, and not the same as me. He was bigger, for sure, and the tip of his cock was damp. “Can I?”

“Anything you want, sweetheart, anything.”

I pressed a kiss to the tip of him, darting my tongue to taste him, and the sound Enzo made sent a thrill through me. His fingers tightened briefly in my hair before relaxing, giving me control. I experimented with the pressure and rhythm of my tongue, learning what made his breath hitch and his muscles tense. I closed my lips around the head and sucked and licked, and tasted the saltiness of the pre-cum, then kissed the tip again.

“Roman,” he whispered, the name sounding so sweet. “You don’t have to?—”

I pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “I want to,” I said. “I want to make you feel good. I want to be good enough, I want...”

He leaned up and cradled my face with one hand.

“You’re enough, Roman . You’re mine.”

I smiled, then pushed him to lie back down, lowered my head again, losing myself in the intimacy of doing this, tasting him, and taking him down as far as I could, wanting more, and easing myself to my knees, trying not to show the pain, ignoring the brief reminder of glass in my skin, and crouching so I had a free hand to close any gap between my mouth and his hair there.

His hips made an aborted thrust, and I could tell he was trying to stay in control. I hummed around him, the vibration making him curse.

I pulled back for air, replacing my mouth with my hand. “You can tell me what you want,” I said, looking up at him through my lashes. “I want to learn.”

Enzo’s eyes were almost black with desire. “You’re perfect,” he breathed. “Just like that.” His voice broke on the last word as I swallowed him again, more confident now.

“You’re so big, I don’t know if I can take you inside me.” My grip faltered when he touched my hand.

“That’s not something we need to do.”

“But what if I want to? What if I need you in that way.”

“What if I needed you in that way?” he asked back, as I twisted my fingers over the head of his cock.

“Me? Inside you? But you’re so…” Big, dominant, full of life and force, and I’m… me.

“I switch and you fucking me would be the best thing I’ve ever felt,” he murmured. “One day, maybe?” He sounded hopeful.

“I don’t know if I can… let me…” I didn’t want to talk anymore, and I lost track of time, focused on the way his body responded to my touch, the sounds he made, the way his thighs tensed under my free hand.

“Roman—Ro,” he gasped, his voice strained. “I’m close, you should?—”

I traced a finger past his balls, back to the hole he wanted me inside, and I pressed there. Could I do that? I felt a dark thrill at the thought of being the one who fucked, but then, I also wanted that with Enzo pushing me slowly into coming, whispering words of encouragement, telling me I was beautiful. I swallowed deeper, redoubled my efforts, leaning on my elbow so I could do everything at once, wanting to give him this and show him I wasn’t afraid anymore. His warning only spurred me on, and I felt a surge of power at his control, fracturing beneath my touch.

“Fuck,” he groaned, his hips lifting off the bed. “Jesus, Ro?—”

I hummed my assent, stopped sucking him, working his cock with my hands, and that was all it took. He tensed, going rigid as he came, calling my name with a broken—my real name. I stayed with him through it, watching ribbons of come on my hands, on his belly, some of it on my lips, and I was so fucking proud of what I’d done.

When I looked up, I saw something I had never expected—Enzo’s eyes were bright with emotion, and his expression was so open and vulnerable it made my chest ache.

“Come here,” he whispered, reaching for me.

He held me as he cradled my cock. I wasn’t hard; the emotions were too raw, but I sighed—happy—and let him pull me up against his chest. He kissed me deeply, not seeming to care about his taste on my lips. His hands trembled as they framed my face. I could see the sheen in his eyes, and for a second, I didn’t know if I’d broken him or healed something. Maybe both. I’d never seen Enzo like that—so raw, so unguarded. It was more intimate than anything we’d done. Not just desire but something far deeper.

“That was…” He shook his head. “You’re incredible. My Roman.” I loved how he added my name at the end; it was perfect.

I felt a blush spread across my cheeks. “I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“You were perfect,” he said with a soft laugh, thumb tracing my lower lip. “ Roman ,” he added, testing the name again.

The sound of it sent a shiver through me. “It feels right when you say it.”

“I love you, Roman,” he whispered.

What was love? I didn’t remember family; I didn’t recall anything but misery. I remembered the cold tile under my knees, the sound of locks clicking shut, and how much pain I could endure. Love had been twisted, but now it was knowing Enzo would do anything to be in my corner. This big man had melted my heart and shown me I could be okay.

In his arms, I was Roman again, untouched and never hurt by anyone. I was new.

“I want you forever.” I settled in his arms. “I think that’s love.”

“Sounds like love to me.”