Page 28 of Ruined By Blood (Feretti Syndicate #2)

I reach up, tracing my fingers along his jawline. "Everything I've been through is exactly why I want this. I want to know what it's like when it's my choice." I stop, not ready to name the complicated feelings swirling inside me.

He cups my face in his hands like I'm something infinitely precious.

"I want you, Sienna," he whispers. "All of you."

"Then show me," I breathe, pulling him back toward me. "Show me what it should be like."

Enzo groans, resistance crumbling as our lips meet again.

I feel Enzo's fingers at the hem of my sweater, his eyes questioning. When I nod, he pulls it over my head with excruciating slowness. Cool air kisses my bare skin as he tosses the garment aside.

"Beautiful," he whispers, eyes tracing every inch of exposed skin.

His gaze finds the cigarette burn on my ribs, and my breath catches. Instead of disgust, his eyes fill with a fierce tenderness that makes my heart ache. He lowers his head, pressing his lips to the puckered scar .

"I'm going to take this slow," he murmurs against my skin.

He trails his mouth to another scar, this one a thin white line beneath my breast. His lips brush it reverently, as if healing old wounds with each kiss. I tremble beneath him, overwhelmed by the gentleness this dangerous man shows me.

"You're trembling," he says, looking up. "We can stop."

"No," I whisper. "Please don't."

His hands find the waistband of my leggings, and he slides them down my legs along with my underwear. I fight the urge to cover myself as he takes in the sight of me, completely bare and vulnerable.

Enzo kisses his way back up my body, lingering at each mark of violence on my skin. Each brush of his lips feels like redemption, transforming scars from symbols of shame into something else—proof of survival.

When his mouth reaches the junction of my thighs, I gasp. No one has ever touched me there with such reverence. His fingers part me gently, and I feel one slide inside me.

My body arches off the bed, a moan escaping before I can stop it. The sensation is nothing like I've experienced before.

"Fuck," Enzo groans, withdrawing his finger and bringing it to his mouth. He licks it clean, eyes never leaving mine. "You taste fucking perfect, piccola."

Heat floods my cheeks at what he says.

Enzo steps back, never taking his eyes off mine as he pulls his shirt over his head.

I gasp at the sight of him. His torso a canvas of intricate tattoos stretching across hard muscle.

A sword pierces a black rose at the center of his chest, surrounded by script that travels up his neck and down his arms. His body tells stories I want to learn, each tattoo marking moments I can only imagine.

Scars interrupt the artwork. A jagged mark across his ribs, another near his collarbone. Each one evidence of the violent world he inhabits.

His hands move to his belt, unfastening it slowly while watching my reaction. He sheds his pants and boxers in one smooth motion, and my breath catches at the sight of him fully naked.

I've seen men before, but never like this—never when I wanted to look, never when it was my choice.

He's beautiful in a primal, dangerous way that makes my heart race.

He goes and reaches a pack of condoms from his wallet and then he gets closer.

He is huge and I feel a shiver crossing over me once again.

The bed dips as he moves over me, his weight supported on his forearms. The heat of his skin against mine feels electric, and I arch up instinctively, seeking more contact. My fingers trace the edges of a tattoo on his shoulder.

"Are you sure?" he asks, his voice tight with restraint.

I nod, unable to find words for what I need.

He positions himself between my thighs, the hard length of him pressing against my entrance. He enters me slowly, allowing my body time to adjust to his size. The sensation is overwhelming. A fullness that borders between pleasure and pain.

"Fuck," he groans, dropping his forehead against mine. His muscles tremble with the effort of holding back. "You feel... Christ, Sienna."

I can sense his restraint in the tension of his body—feel how he's holding back, trying to be gentle for my sake. But I don't want gentleness. I want to feel everything, to take what I want instead of enduring what's forced upon me .

I roll my hips upward, taking him deeper, and the groan that tears from his throat sends heat coursing through me.

"More," I whisper, hands gripping his shoulders. "Faster."

He begins to move inside me, pace increasing as my body encourages him. Each thrust builds a tension I've never felt before, a climbing sensation that makes me desperate for something just out of reach.

Enzo's hand slides up my throat, fingers wrapping carefully around my neck and jaw without pressure. His thumb tilts my chin, forcing my gaze to meet his.

"Look at me," he commands softly. "Stay with me."

His eyes lock onto mine as he drives into me, the connection more intimate than the joining of our bodies.

The tension builds higher, my breathing growing erratic. Something is happening, a new sensation coiling tighter with each thrust. Suddenly it breaks, pleasure washing through me in waves. My back arches off the bed as I cry out, muscles clenching around him.

"Fuck, Sienna," he groans, his rhythm faltering as he follows me over the edge. His body shudders against mine, face buried in my neck as he spills inside me.

We lay tangled together, hearts racing in sync. For the first time, I understand what sex can be.

And I want more.