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Was I okay with it? It wasn’t as if I'd lost sleep thinking about how “bad” he was when he wasn’t with me. It wasn’t as if I wondered how many people he’d killed or the lengths he’d go to get what he wanted. Was I curious? To an extent, but not enough to ask. Not enough to stop seeing him, it seemed.
And what does that say about me?What kind of person was I truly if the man I wanted was a ruthless mafia boss?
I pushed all of those thoughts away and focused on the right now. I didn't want to think about it, didn’t want to try to sift through how I felt with the logical side of me that said to run.I don't want to. I want to give myself over to Enzo in every single way, because it’s the first time I’ve ever felt like this.
The plush velvet loveseat seemed intimate, and even more so when I sat down and he gestured for me to move closer to him.
So here I was, trying to slowly sip my champagne—and not guzzle it—as I all but sat on Enzo’s lap. But I couldn’t deny that his big, hard body felt so very good beside mine.
I’d taken off the cropped faux leather jacket I’d worn that matched my skirt, and even though I wore a white sleeveless knit top that fully covered me, albeit formed sexily against my curvy body, I somehow felt totally bare.
The way he had one thickly muscled arm casually slung over the back of the loveseat, his fingers barely brushing my bare shoulder, made me feel even more aroused.
I took a healthy swallow of the champagne before realizing I totally downed it. As soon as I set the glass down, a scantily clad waitress was bringing over a full flute and taking the empty one.
Before I could grab the full glass, Enzo placed his much bigger palm on top of my hand, causing me to still. I turned my head and looked at him, my belly tightening because he was so close. I felt my face get hot, and I knew it wasn’t only because I was guzzling down the alcohol so quickly. I was also nervous as hell. And aroused. “I’m not a lush or anything. I’m just—”
“Nervous,” he rumbled out deeply.
I licked my lips and nodded slowly, unable to take my gaze off him. He just commanded so much attention, the masculinity and strength pouring off him, so it was hard not tofeelbreathless around him.
Enzo set down his whiskey glass, his body leaning closer to me from the act. He turned his head and looked at me then, the look in his eyes one I couldn’t quite understand, but one I wanted to delve into deeper.
He straightened but didn’t move away from me, his chest so close to mine, his arm still thrown over the back of the couch. I felt the lightest brush of his fingers on the bare skin of my shoulder and tried to stop the shiver that moved through me. I failed.
But he didn’t look smug or arrogant over the fact that he had such a powerful effect on my body. His gaze searched my face before settling on my lips, and I felt arousal beating down on me.
Enzo slid his hand slowly over my waist and up my forearm before settling his fingers on my shoulder. Despite the warmth in the room, I felt a chill race up my spine, goose bumps moving along my arms.
My heart was racing, the blood rushing through my veins and filling my ears. I felt lightheaded and weak-kneed. Surely I would’ve collapsed if I hadn’t been already seated.
He leaned in closer then, placing his other hand by my waist on the couch, caging me in, his body so imposing, his shoulders and chest broad and blocking everything else out.
The VIP section was slightly secluded, and although we had our own corner in the room and enough privacy that I didn’t feel like I was on display, the truth was I couldn’t care less if everyone watched what was happening. In fact, I felt slightly heated at the very idea of strangers seeing the effect Enzo had on me… to watch him touching me.
He said nothing, yet his expression spoke so loudly that it filled my head with this echoing sound. Our faces were only inches apart now, his eyes locked on mine. Whereas my breathing started to become frantic from this close proximity, Enzo was ever in control. It turned me on so much to know he had so much restraint.
“What are you thinking about, Bianca?” he murmured, his body still caging me in, his dark and spicy scent filling my head and making me feel drunker than any champagne ever could.
“N-Nothing,” I whispered, but it couldn’t mask the needy quality that was laced within that word.
His lips twitched as if he found what I said amusing, and then he responded, “You’re not a very good liar.” He moved in another inch, so close now that I smelled his whiskey-laced breath.
I could’ve moaned at how good he smelled, the alcohol tinged with his natural aroma, mixed with the cologne he wore, making my brain short circuit.
I felt so much pressure in my pussy, this wet and hot sensation riding my core hard. Could he see how hard my nipples were? Although I didn’t dare look down to see if they were poking through my shirt, they felt hard enough to cut glass.
“Why don’t you try that answer again?” There was no denying he was absolutely used to getting what he wanted, and his tone brokered no argument. It wasn’t even a question but a demand.
I took a slow inhale and said, “I’m thinking about really inappropriate things right now.” I felt my eyes flare briefly as the uncensored words tumbled out of me before I could stop them. I swore I heard a deep sound come from him, one that could’ve been a groan of pleasure. But because of the racing of my pulse filling my ears, coupled with the bass of the music from the overhead speakers, everything around me was hazy.
Enzo leaned in another inch, our lips barely touching. If anybody saw us, there would be no doubt in their minds that things had jacked up immensely in the sexual department. And I didn’t want to stop Enzo from taking things to the next level.
It’s all I’d wanted, ever since I’d seen him over a month ago. Ever since I knew what his kisses were like, how it was to have his lips on my throat… and how it felt to have his hard cock digging against my belly.
I couldn’t stop the moan that slipped from my parted lips, couldn’t help myself from curling my fingers into tight fists, my nails digging into my palms hard enough the pain should’ve snapped me out of my pleasure, but instead, it heightened it.
“Are you nervous because you’re with me, or because of how I make you feel?” Lying would’ve been so easy, but telling the truth would’ve felt so much better.
