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“So if we’re going to do this again—”
“We’re doing it again,” he confirms.
I blow out a breath. This new Enzo is surprising. “Well, if we do, nothing happens at work. No inappropriate talk or touches.”
He clicks his tongue on the roof of his mouth and shakes his head. “No promises there. That’s half the fun. You expect me to be around you all day at work and not cop a feel?”
I shake my head, but he’s probably right. “It has to be discreet. No one can know. Not your brothers. Not my sister. Not Mae. No one. This is going to the grave with the two of us.”
He chuckles again and cups my breast. “I promise on your mouthwatering tit.”
I smack his hand, but I can’t deny this playful side of Enzo is fun. And I don’t have it in me to be serious. It’s been a long day—emotionally and now physically. I’m sure in the morning light, reality will hit, and we’ll figure out this new terrain.
So I slide down the bed. He turns off the light. As we fall asleep with his leg wedged between mine and his hand on my breast, I worry about what I’ve done to jeopardize the future I was making for myself.
“The best day ever was when you had to cover as my assistant,” he whispers before kissing my jaw right under my ear.
“That’s your concussion talking.”
“I don’t have one.” He tightens his arms. “Just go to sleep.”
And at some point, the freaking out over what I’ve done disappears and the euphoric feeling from Enzo holding me takes over and my eyes drift closed.
