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The words leave my lips automatically, and the approval in his eyes has me wanting to say it again. The words hadn’t crossed my mind, they just fell out of me. Like a habit. A bad habit.
How does this man have so much control over my body?
He adds more pressure, sliding his fingers up and down. I feel myself growing wet, my core aching for him to touch me more.
Enzo stands abruptly, moving in front of me and looking down at me. I’m panting, my body buzzing. I’m dizzy and confused.
He gets to his knees, holding my gaze, hooks his fingers in my shorts and tugs them down. With his eyes still on me, his hands on my knees, he spreads my legs and leans forward, dragging his tongue between my lips.
I whimper, gripping the seat hard and whimpering loudly.
“I can take care of you,” he whispers, going in for another lick. “Make you happy.” Another lick. “Give you everything you want.” Another lick, this one long and slow, ending on a little swirl of his tongue. I’m already so damn close, it’s embarrassing. “And I will lick this beautiful pussy—” He wraps his lips around my clit and sucks, sending me skyrocketing into an embarrassingly quick orgasm I didn’t see coming. It’s sharp and quick and harsh, stealing my breath. And when he pulls back, his lips glistening, my heart thunders behind my chest as he smirks. “Whenever you want me to.”
He gets to his feet smoothing down his shirt like he’s getting up from a business meeting.
What the hell just happened?
“Think about it, Jordan,” he says, grabbing his things from the table and leaving.
I’m still breathless as he goes, but I’m not entirely sure it’s from the orgasm.
Chapter Thirty
Jordan
I stare down at the papers in front of me. Today is the last day this will be my decision, and I’m not convinced enough to sign them.
I don’t see a point. Ultimately, this isn’t my choice either way. Signing them willingly does nothing but show my weakness. It shows Enzo that he’s getting to me. And though I am trying to gain his trust, I don’t think this is the way to do it. Signing these may hurt me somehow down the line. It’s too risky. So I put the pen down and push the papers away.
For the first time in a week, they’ve been moved. Funny because nothing has changed. They’ve stayed on the table for seven days, and each time I noticed them, they looked more and more like poison. But these papers don’t matter. They mean nothing. I’m stuck here whether I like it or not. Whether I agree or not. Whether they’re signed by me or not.
I will be Enzo’s wife. I’ll no longer be a Delise, but a Bramante.
Jordan Bramante.
At least it sounds good.
Ugh, I hate that.
I poke at my scrambled eggs, moving them around on the plate. I’ve eaten half my food but know better than to get up without clearing it. Bernice the babysitter is lingering in the kitchen, watching me like the trained guard dog she is.
Is that how Enzo expects me to be? Does he want me to listen as well as she does, all the time? There’s no way that will ever happen.
I haven’t seen Enzo since the movie theater incident last night. The incident that hasn’t stopped haunting me. Part of me hates I let him do it. Part of me wants more. All the while, my head is telling me this is good. It’s part of the plan. Use my body to get him to trust me, and when he least expects it, leave. This is good. He was so willing to touch me in the theater. He didn’t hesitate. He enjoyed it. How is he making this so easy for me? I mean, if all I have to do is let the man please me now and then, it’s simple. I didn’t even have to try.
In fact, he’s the one trying. He’s the one trying to convince me to stay. It’s almost like he wants me to. Well, of course he does; he paid for me. But something about last night made it seem like more. Or maybe that’s the game he’s playing. Either way, I have to stick to mine.
Currently, the only thing Enzo is forcing me into is this marriage and staying here. Not sex. Not children. That’s a plus. This could be much worse.
The mafia?
I’ve seen plenty of movies to know what they do to women. Enzo is taking it easy on me. Not something I should have to be grateful for, but with the situation I find myself in, I am grateful for it.
I glance at those papers again…
What if signing them makes him trust me? I can’t see how it would. If anything, it’ll make him wary of me. Why did I change my mind so fast? He was hesitant enough at dinner the other day when I was being nice. Signing these papers will not help me. I pick them up and flip them over. I’m done looking at them. He can do what he needs to do. I want no part of it.
I quickly finish my food, bring my dish to the sink, scowl at Bernice, and head to my room to get my bathing suit so I can drown my sorrows in the hot tub.
