This is heaven.
I'm reaching for hair conditioner when I hear footsteps downstairs.
"Maddie?" Enzo's voice carries up. "Brought you some wine to celebrate."
My heart stops. I didn't lock the front door. Why would I when I thought I was alone on his private property?
"I'm in the shower!" I call out, hoping he'll leave the wine and go. Instead, I hear footsteps on the stairs.
"Also brought fresh towels," his voice is closer now, definitely upstairs. "The ones up there might not be enough."
"That's okay! The towels are perfect! You don't need to—"
The bathroom door opens.
I freeze under the spray, hands full of conditioner, completely naked and completely exposed.
Enzo stands in the doorway holding towels and wine, looking like he just stumbled on this by accident instead of walking deliberately into a bathroom where he surely knew I was showering.
His eyes travel down my body slowly, appreciatively, before meeting mine again. And he doesn't look away.
"Sorry," he says, but his voice doesn't sound sorry at all. "Thought you said come in."
"I said I was IN the shower!"
"Ah. A language translation mistake. Forgive me. "
Mistake, my ass. His English is perfect.
But he's still standing there, still staring at me, and I should be mortified. Should be screaming at him to get out, covering myself, something. Instead, I'm frozen by the heat inhis gaze and the way my body is responding to being seen by him.
"Could you..." I manage, "maybe hand me a towel?"
"Sure."
He steps closer to the shower, close enough that I can see his face clearly through the clear glass shower door, close enough that he's getting a very clear view of everything the steam isn't hiding.
He holds out a towel but doesn't look away.
"Turn around," I say, my voice shakier than I want.
"I’ve already seen everything, cara."
Oh, damn.
He shouldn’t talk like that.
"Please. Turn around."
He smiles—slow and devastating—but turns around. I quickly shut off the water and wrap myself in the towel, which is soft and luxurious.
"Okay," I say once I'm covered, though the towel seems inadequate given what just happened.
He turns back, and his gaze travels over me again, taking in how the towel clings to my wet skin, the water droplets still on my shoulders.
"You're beautiful, Madison."
The way he says it, low and sincere, makes my breath catch. No one has ever looked at me the way he's looking at me right now. As if I'm something precious and desirable.
