"Tell me you love me," I gasp against his mouth.
"I love you." He enters me in one hard thrust and we both gasp. "I love you so much it's destroying me."
"Then don't leave." Tears are streaming down my face. "If you love me, don't leave."
"I have to." His forehead presses to mine, his hips already moving. "I will find a way for us, but right now you know I have to give Matteo some space to think things through."
"I don't care about Matteo." My fingers dig into his shoulders. "I only care about this. About you. About us."
He drives into me harder, faster, nothing gentle about it, nothing careful, just raw desperate need. I'm crying, clinging to him and meeting every thrust.
"You feel so perfect," he says roughly. "Every single time. Like you were made for me."
"I was." The words come out broken between gasps. "I was made for you and you're leaving and I can't—I can't?—"
"I know." His hand slides between us, finds my clit.
The added pressure sends me spiraling fast, too fast, overwhelming.
"Enzo—"
"Come for me," he says against my ear. "Please. I need to feel you. One more time."
I shatter with his name breaking apart in my throat, my whole body locking around him, and he follows immediately with a groan that sounds like it's being torn from his chest.
We stay like that for a long moment, foreheads pressed together, both trying to catch our breath.
He looks down at me, gently, and when he enters me this time it's slow, deliberate, his eyes locked on mine.
"I can't fucking get enough of you," he says quietly, his voice wrecked. "I could have you a thousand times and it still wouldn't be enough."
He kisses me to stop the words, slow and deep, he starts moving with the same deliberate rhythm, each thrust controlled and utterly devastating.
"I'm going to remember this," he says against my mouth. "Every second. The way you feel. The way you sound. The way you're looking at me right now. Until we can be together again, whenever that is."
"Don't talk about remembering." My voice breaks. "Don't talk about this like it's the last time."
"Isabella—"
"Please." I pull him closer. "Just be here. Right now. Don't think about leaving. Just be here with me."
He buries his face in my neck and moves faster, I can feel the desperation in every thrust, can feel him trying to memorize me the same way I'm trying to memorize him.
"Touch yourself," he says roughly. "I need to watch you."
I slide my hand between us to find my clit and he lifts his head to watch, his eyes dark and intense, and the way he's looking at me sends heat flooding through my entire body.
"That's it," he says. "Just like that. Let me see you fall apart."
I work myself in circles while he drives into me steady and hard, and when I come it rolls through me in waves, and he watches my face through all of it like he's trying to burn the image into his memory.
He follows me over with my name on his lips, his rhythm breaking, his whole body going taut, and then he collapses beside me and pulls me against him.
We lie there in silence, my head on his chest, his fingers drawing patterns on my shoulder, both of us breathing too hard.
"I have something I need to show you," he says finally, quietly.
"I don't want to see anything except you."
