Her eyes close and her head tilts just slightly, pressing her cheek into my palm like she's been starving for this.
And she sighs.
The sound is soft and breathy, somewhere between relief and something else, something that sounds dangerously like a moan.
Every thought in my head goes silent.
All I can hear is that sound, all I can feel is the warmth of her skin, all I can see is the way her lips part just slightly.
My thumb moves on its own, brushes across her cheekbone, down to the corner of her mouth.
Her eyes open and find mine.
The moonlight catches them and I can see everything. The fear. The want. The confusion. The same war I've been fighting for four years reflected back at me.
"Enzo." My name is barely a whisper.
"I know." I whisper back.
"I hate you."
"I know that too."
"But I can't—" She stops and swallows hard.
"Isabella—"
Her breath catches and I watch her chest rise and fall faster.
My hand is still on her face, my thumb still tracing the line of her jaw, and I should stop, should drop my hand, should walk away.
But I've been lying for four years, pretending, acting like she means nothing.
And I'm tired.
So tired of fighting this.
She's looking at me like I'm the only thing in the world that matters, like four years of hurt and anger don't exist, like I didn't destroy her on that porch.
My other hand moves and finds her waist, and the towel is soft under my palm but I can feel the curve of her hip beneath it, can feel her warmth.
She's not wearing anything under this towel, of course.
The thought sends heat straight through me.
"Isabella." Her name sounds like a prayer and a plea. "You need to tell me to stop."
"What if I don't want you to stop?"
"Then we're both going to regret this."
"I don't care."
Her hand comes up and covers mine where it rests on her face, her fingers small and delicate as they wrap around my wrist.
Not pulling away. Just holding on.
I move my hand from her waist and slide it up her side, slowly and deliberately, feeling the curve of her ribs, the dip of her waist, the softness of her skin through the towel.
