I strip down and climb into the bath, sighing as the water envelops me.
There is soap and a loofah and a sponge, but I sit for the longest time, drifting, letting the water take me over.
Then I finally wash myself and climb out.
I dry off, letting out the water and wrapping myself in a towel.
I push open the door and step out of the ensuite. "Thanks, Enzo."
But I'm alone.
My heart, that treacherous thing, plummets. I go to the door, opening it.
"Enzo?"
He appears in the hall, from his suite. "Want to stay the night in there, or come in here with me?"
"I—"
"That fucking came out wrong. I meant that you asked me to stay, to hold you, I'm assuming, and I'm offering that. I'll hold you."
I go to him, pushing him into his room, dropping the towel, and rising on my toes to kiss him.
He takes my shoulders and ends the kiss. "Lola, we don't have to. You don't have to."
"I want to."
"Not after everything you said. The ball is in your court, I guess. What I fucking mean is..." He swings me into his arms and carries me to the bed, laying me down carefully.
Enzo strips off his jeans and pulls the covers up over me, then lies on top of them next to me in his boxers.
But not before I see his hard-on.
The move of him on top and me under the covers makes my eyes blur and my heart squeeze tight.
Treacherous.
Every damn inch of me.
"What I mean is the court is yours. You get to serve. We only do what you want. Sleep, me on the sofa, whatever, and I'm good with it. I want to show you I can be the man you want, Lola."
I turn and touch his cheek. "That's the big problem. Youarethe man I want. And that makes things difficult. Because it would be too easy to fall into things with you, pretend everything was fine, even if it wasn't. But?—"
"That shit blows up in your face at some point. Believe me, I get it."
I take a shuddering breath. "I don't think you do. I want to move on. I don't want anything coming between us anymore. I want to be ready."
"But the slate?"
"It's still there. But each day where things are honest makes it cleaner. I'm ready to try to work through it. Talking things through is helping me reach forgiveness."
He kisses me softly. "You're not there yet. Sure, the talk helped. But we're not there."
"We moved a lot closer to that. I haven't gotten to the point where I can have it blank, but I think I see what you were saying to me. And I do forgive you."
"The past? What about that?"
I think what little resentment remains crumbles more with his words, with him trying to change my mind, talk me down from emotions.
