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“It means Sylvester has always taken it upon himself to lay hands on me, but that doesn't mean I let him.”
My upper lip curls into a snarl, and likely sensing the black fury radiating from me, she looks up and rests her cheek on my shoulder. Her hot breath fans across my neck, and I fight the urge to pull her on top of me. I focus on the pool before giving in to my darker instincts.
“What are you thinking?” she asks in a whisper.
“He wants what I have.” When she stays silent, I drop my gaze to her. “You,bella. He doesn’t like the thought of me having you,” I say, my voice so deep, I no longer recognize it myself. “Imagine how he would feel if he was made to watch.”
“Enzo,” she breathes.
This time, I'm unable to look away. My body grows hotter, while my cock stiffens.
Forcing Sylvester to bear something he would deem unbearable… I can’t explain the excitement that has adrenaline injecting straight into my heart.
“But then I would really have to kill him,” I conclude.
Her brow pinches, and that pink mouth is parted with confusion. Despite her uncertainty, her eyes are blown wide, and little pants are slipping past her tongue.
“Why?” she murmurs. I reach up, thumbing those sweet lips until the sensitive flesh pinches into her teeth.
Who knew a single word could plague me so profoundly?
Mine.
“Because anyone who looks at what’s mine will never live to tell about it,” I rasp.
“Is that what I am?” she croaks. “Yours?”
“You always have been,” I murmur. “Now, it's only a matter of if you stay.” She doesn't say yes, and again, I’m overcome with the need to keep her anyway.
Her tongue darts out, licking the tip of my thumb. All my focus zeroes in on what she’s doing, my cock hardening impossibly further.
“Tu sei mia,” I growl, hunger clawing at my insides as she draws my thumb between her teeth and clamps down. I hardly feel the pain. I can only feel something dark and primal begging to be unleashed.
“What else?” she encourages. “Tell me everything you could never say.”
I know what she’s asking. Confess to her in a language she doesn’t understand. I'm not sure if it's for my benefit or hers. Does she think it's the only way I can profess my feelings, or is it because it's the only way she'll listen without running?
“È impossibile odiarti quando mi fai sentire così vivo,” I start, slipping two fingers past her lips and hooking them over her teeth, bringing her closer.
“Ed è esattamente per questo che voglio odiarti. Prima di incontrare te ero un sonnambulo. Cazzo, non ero pronto a svegliarmi.”
She stares at me as if she understands. Even when I’m speaking another language, she still hears me.
“Ho sbagliato a dirti che eri debole. Sei così incredibilmente coraggiosa, vorrei che lo vedessi anche tu.”
Releasing her jaw, I slide my hand beneath her t-shirt, dragging my wet fingers against her soft stomach, eliciting a shiver for an entirely different reason. The fabric lifts as I travel up between her breasts. Growing impatient, she sits up enough to pull the shirt over her head, tossing it to the side and leaning back into me. Next, she removes her jean shorts.
Turning to face me, she crawls on my lap, resting her hands on my shoulders while the blanket falls away.
“Don’t stop,” she pleads.
“Ti penso ogni ora, ogni minuto, ogni dannato secondo. Non so che fare.”
I release the knots around her neck and waist, biting my lip when the material falls away and reveals her pert breasts. I can’t resist leaning in and placing a gentle kiss on her rose-pink nipple. She gasps, prompting me to lick it, and I groan from how addicting she tastes.
“L’oceano era l’unico posto in cui mi sentivo a casa,”I continue, moving my hands to the knots on either side of her hips. I pluck those, too, raw desire consuming every one of my brain cells when her bottoms drop. I can smell her arousal, and I’m struggling to concentrate on what I’m saying.
“Era l’unica cosa che mi eccitava e dava pace. Hai rovinato anche questo. Sentirti su di me è meglio di immergersi nell’oceano. Neanche con questa rivelazione so che fare.”
