Page 47 of Enzo

After my little rendezvous in Revelation, I realized I liked sex. A lot. Until that night, I’d never managed to reach the peak, but it was no longer a mystery. Every night since, I’d touched myself the way my masked stranger had. I even fantasized about him, and slowly but surely, my self-pleasure became a ritual.

The problem was it didn’t even scratch the surface of the real thing. The feel of his hard body pressed against mine and his hot breath against my skin, his hips rutting into me… It was hardly enough.

So, unless I intended to cheat on my brand-new husband—which was a dangerous idea—I should get my fix from him. Right? It was basic biology, really.

And I could admit it wouldn’t be a terrible hardship.

Enzo’s dark features and beautiful eyes probably drew women to him like bees to honey. Hence, he must have had a lot of practice and was good at it. I could use the experience for when I found a way to free myself from the arrangement after all.

Dammit, I wasn’t sure what the right thing to do was. Maybe I should just go with the flow and hope for the best.

But he knew as well as I did that rolling over and playing the role of submissive wife went against my every instinct. He would smell something cooking straight away.

Everyone knew you got more with honey than vinegar, though… So maybe I should just fuck his brains out, get him pussy-whipped, then convince him to take us back to Sicily so I could be closer to Amara and my family. I’d figure the rest out from there.

Yes, good plan.

Suddenly feeling positive and even cheerful because I was about to get laid and manipulate my husband into doing my bidding, I discarded my clothing piece by piece and stepped into the luxurious shower.

Seeing my favorite toiletry brands put me into an even better mood, and I started to hum and even sway to a beat playing in my head. Once done, I wrapped myself in a big, fluffy towel.

I strolled into the bedroom, still dripping, and my feet faltered. Because there was Enzo, his muscular shoulders filling the doorway of the bedroom, his arms crossed over his chest, and a smirk on his face.

“Someone’s in a good mood,” he drawled. “Did something happen in the ten minutes I was gone?”

My first instinct was to snap at him, but then I remembered my plan, and I smiled sweetly.

“Well, I was thinking…” I said softly.

“About?”

“Sex,” I rushed out, not allowing myself the chance to back out, then proceeded to drop the towel in a puddle around my feet. “With you.”

I could feel the color rising in my cheeks, but I ignored it and strutted across the suite toward him. The shock and disbelief on his face was priceless, but it was the gleam in his eyes that fed my confidence and gave me the courage to close the distance between us.

“Are you sure?” God, his voice was wrapped in the most delicious sin. My pulse quickened when he pressed me against his rock-hard frame. “Once we take that step, I’ll consume you, body and soul.”

He canted his hips forward, dragging his hard length along my pussy, the friction of his suit and promise of pleasure making me shudder with anticipation. Even through the fabric, I could feel his size, and longing settled in the pit of my stomach.

“Are you trying to intimidate me?”

“No, wife. I’m trying to warn you. Maybe even turn you on.”

Fuck, he spoke as though my inner thighs weren’t already slick.No, Pen.Stick to the plan. I could feel the tables turning with every word he rasped.

“You only met me a week ago. We’ve barely talked. You can’t possibly know what turns me on.”

If my body hadn’t already betrayed my aroused state, my breathless words did.

“Your eyes tell me everything I need to know.”

Holding his gaze, I pushed the suit jacket off his shoulders and threw it on the ground. His vest and tie soon joined thejacket and I started working on the buttons of his dress shirt. “Oh yeah? And what’s that?”

My mind blanked as I stared at my husband’s sculpted, tanned chest and eight-pack abs, trailing the V-lines down from his hips as they disappeared into the waistband of his pants. Enzo was the personification of an Italian stud and I couldn’t keep my eyes from roaming his strong, muscled body.

I fumbled for his belt, eagerly working on it, and when I pushed his pants down his muscular legs, his cock sprung free. Thick and hard. Magnificent.

Sweet fucking Jesus.