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I have to stop more from happening.
But that kiss already did enough damage. I don’t know if I have enough restraint to keep my hands off of Enzo. Or to stop his advances. He knows I’m weak right now, and I’m terrified of what will happen if I let him win back my heart.
I spend the rest of the day avoiding Enzo, which is easy enough. He gets stitches and medical care, and then he’s off barking orders to all his men to prepare for the next inevitable attack.
That night I get in bed, knowing I will need Langston to keep me grounded more than ever. The knock comes at the door, but it’s Enzo standing in my doorway, not Langston.
“Langston is working. He’s gathering our allies to prepare for more attacks. I’ll be right out here if you need me,” Enzo says, reluctantly.
I know he wants to jump into my bed. But I won’t invite that level of temptation into my life.
I nod, and he closes the door. I pull the covers over my head, knowing sleep won’t come easily. I try fingering myself under the covers, but that gets me nowhere but frustrated. I’m nowhere near coming, and sleep isn’t close either.
Fuck, what are you doing to me Enzo?
Enzo’s right about my feelings. Even after everything Milo did, they aren’t gone—not completely.
But that doesn’t mean I can be weak and give into them.
I need to be strong. I stroke my stomach. Another life depends on me being strong.
ENZO KNOCKS on my door at six in the morning.
I’ve slept less than an hour.
I moan and put on a robe as I get out of the bed. I throw the door open with a grumpy snarl on my face. My hair is a nest of hair on top of my head; my face is covered in wrinkle marks from tossing and turning on the bed.
“What?” I snap, still frustrated from last night.
I look at Enzo. If it’s possible, he looks worse than me. There are stitches under his eyes and on his shoulder from where the doctor fixed him up. He changed his clothes from yesterday, but his skin is turning purple and blue and red and angry from the beating he took yesterday. And from the swollenness of his eyes and the exhaustion all over his face, I know he didn’t sleep much last night either.
; “Archard called a meeting for the vote to happen. Apparently, it will be happening at the crack of dawn every day,” he says, thrusting a cup of coffee into my hands.
I take it, my fingers brushing against his. The touch jolting us both awake more than any cup of coffee ever could.
“Thanks,” I say, letting our fingers linger for longer than I should. I’m only giving him hope each time I touch him. But maybe it’s myself I’m fooling?
He clears his throat, and I see his length pressing against his jeans from just the touch.
My insides melt at what I do to him.
No!
I shake my head and sip my coffee as I walk upstairs.
Archard has already assembled the team of people who will vote on who the next leader will be for today.
I yawn as I take a seat at the long table. Enzo takes a seat next to me.
“The vote will happen every day promptly at six,” Archard says, glaring at Enzo and me for being five minutes late.
I roll my eyes and sip my coffee.
It’s only after a few sips that I realize I don’t know if I’m allowed to drink coffee or not. Will the caffeine hurt the baby?
I set the cup down, but I know I need the caffeine to stay awake today. I decide one cup can’t be that bad. But I need to corner the doctor to ask. He’s not an OBGYN, but I assume he has basic knowledge of what I am and am not allowed to consume while pregnant. When the chance arises, I’ll make an appointment with a doctor who can give me better advice.
