The metallic taste of blood spread between us. I couldn't tell anymore whether I had bitten his lip or he had bitten mine, but that rusty flavor seemed to awaken some primal, beast-like instinct inside him.
Enzo's hands turned rough. He tore at my clothes with raw force. Buttons scattered across the floor. Fabric ripped. He slammed me hard against the wall in the entryway, forcing his knee between my legs to spread them apart.
My body's honesty hit me like a wave of anger and despair, but his familiar warmth and scent demolished what little reason I had left.
"I hate you," I gasped against his mouth, even as my fingers dug deep into his shoulders.
"No, you love me." His voice was gravelly, laced with dangerous sin.
Enzo scooped me up and carried me straight to the bedroom. My torn shirt hung off me in tatters. His hands were everywhere, rough, possessive, and impatient.
He pinned me down on the bed, his lips trailing over my throat and collarbone before moving lower. Even though my brain was screaming at me to stop, I arched into him.
Enzo hooked his fingers into the waistband of my pants. Themoment they slipped inside, clarity slammed into me, and I kicked him away hard.
"You're a liar, you asshole!" I choked out, fresh hot tears sliding down my cheeks. "If you're horny, go find your Valentina! Get the hell out of my apartment!"
Enzo lifted his head, searching for my eyes in the darkness.
Then, ignoring my wildly kicking legs, he pulled me into his arms, cradling the back of my head and pressing me tightly against his chest.
"Baby, you look so fucking sexy when you're jealous." His lips brushed my temple, then trailed over my wet cheeks. His tongue traced the paths of my tears. "But I only love you, and I only want to fuck you."
I knew that in moments like this, in bed, men would say anything to get a woman's panties off. The last thing I should believe was these cheap promises made in the heat of lust.
Yet hearing him say he loved me so bluntly, almost brutally, made my heart tremble violently against my will.
"You're lying. You left me."
"Because I couldn't believe it either, that I actually love you." His thumb swept gently under my eyes, wiping away another tear. "The past week has been hell. I couldn't stop thinking about you. I couldn't sleep. I couldn't focus. I've never—" He let out a heavy breath and pressed his forehead to mine. "I've never been this obsessed with anyone. You've completely ruined me, Chloe. No one has ever made me this hard, this crazy. Only you."
My mind buzzed. From the moment he said he loved me, everything started to feel unreal, like some absurd and seductive dream.
Even as my brain kept screaming: Don't be stupid, Chloe! Don't fall for his lies!
Another desperate urge roared through my blood, urging me to lunge forward, kiss him, and silence every word.
"Only you," he repeated, his voice hoarse.
Then Enzo's lips covered mine again, but this time his movements turned devastatingly gentle. He stripped away the rest of my clothes, his mouth following the path of his fingers.
If he had been rough and aggressive like before, maybe I could have fought him with everything I had. But this lethal tenderness left me completely powerless to push him away.
I closed my eyes in defeat and had to admit the shameful truth to myself: I wanted Enzo's touch. I wanted it so badly I was losing my mind. My body, my soul, everything trembled and surrendered to him.
When he finally settled between my legs, the thick, blunt head of his cock pressed against my drenched entrance. I was soaked, aching, clenching around nothing. Enzo let out a deep growl from his throat and pushed inside, slow and deliberate, stretching me open inch by inch with his massive size.
The burning fullness made me arch sharply off the bed.
"Fuck," he groaned against my neck, his voice already ragged. "You feel so fucking perfect."
Enzo sank deeper, forcing my inner walls to take every heavy inch of him until he bottomed out, his balls pressed tight against me. I could feel every pulsing vein, every ridge, the way he throbbed inside me as if he had been made to fill me completely. My nails dug into his back as broken moans spilled from my throat.
He pulled out almost completely, then slammed back in, setting a deep, punishing rhythm. Every brutal thrust was accompanied by the wet, filthy sound of skin slapping skin, echoing through the room. He fucked me like he was trying to bury himself in my soul, long, powerful strokes that hit that deepest spot inside me again and again, making my toes curl and my vision blur.
I couldn't speak. I could only cling to him, feeling him drive into me harder, his hips slamming, his muscles tensing under my hands. Sweat slicked our bodies. My breasts bounced with every savage thrust. He leaned down, sucking one stiff nipple into his mouth, teeth grazing the sensitive peak before biting down just hard enough to make me cry out.
But the tears came again. I couldn't stop them.
