My hands find his neck, pulling him closer, and when I slide my fingers down the column of his throat he makes a sound lowin his chest, a rough groan that vibrates under my palms, and something about hearing that from him, from Enzo who controls everything, does something catastrophic to my ability to think.
I slide my hands down his chest under the water, feeling the planes of muscle under my palms, following the line of his stomach, and when my fingers brush lower he goes very still.
I wrap my hand around him.
The gasp that leaves me isn't planned. It's completely involuntary, the shock of it, the heat of him, the hardness that my brain knew was possible but my body apparently wasn't prepared for, the confirmation that this is real, that it's me doing this to him, that Enzo Bianchi is hard in my hand because of me.
"Isabella." His voice is wrecked. Barely recognizable.
"You're—" I can't finish the sentence.
"Yeah." Just that. Just that one word in that voice.
He kisses me.
It's not the kiss I'd imagined when I was eighteen and foolish and thought I knew what wanting something felt like. It's nothing like the soft, tentative thing I'd constructed in my head.
His hand comes up and grips my jaw and he kisses me like he's angry about it, like he's been waiting four years and he's furious at himself for wanting it this badly, his mouth hard and certain and devastating, and I make a sound against his lips that I've never made before and his other arm pulls me flush against him in the water.
I kiss him back with everything I have, with four years of fury and want and grief all tangled up together, my hands in his hair, and he makes a sound against my mouth that undoes me completely.
His hands move.
One stays at my jaw, tilting my head exactly where he wants it, and the other slides down my stomach under the water and I break the kiss to gasp and he watches my face with dark focused eyes as his fingers find the edge of my swimsuit.
"I'm not sure I can stop this time, Isabella." he says, low against my mouth.
"Please, d-don't stop."
His fingers slide under the fabric.
"Christ," he breathes when he feels how wet I am, how much of it has nothing to do with the water around us, and the reverence in his voice makes me press my face into his neck.
"Enzo—"
"I've got you." The words come out low and sure against my ear, travelling down my spine like electricity. "Let me have you. Just like this."
His fingers move slowly at first, learning me, deliberate and patient, and I grip his shoulders to stay upright in the water because my legs have stopped working.
"Look at me," he murmurs.
I look at him. His eyes are dark and intent and fixed on my face, watching every flicker of sensation cross it, and being seen like that, by him, after everything, is almost as overwhelming as what his hand is doing.
"You're so—" He stops himself, jaw tightening, and his fingers curl and I cry out softly at the sensation. "Fucking… beautiful…"
"Yes… please," My voice comes out barely a whisper, "Please don't stop."
"I'm not stopping." Low and rough. A promise.
He works me open slowly, thoroughly, his thumb moving in circles while his fingers curl with devastating precision, and I'm shaking in the water, gripping his shoulders hard enough to leave marks, my mouth against his jaw and his name breaking apart in my throat.
He tilts my chin up and kisses me again while his fingers move faster, swallowing every sound I make, and when I come apart it's with his name and his mouth and the warm water all around me and his arm the only thing keeping me from sliding under.
I come back to myself slowly.
His forehead against mine. Both of us breathing too hard. His hand still gentle where it was devastating a moment ago, slow and careful now, bringing me back down.
I reach for him again.
