Page 15
I catch his hand and lead him toward the bedroom, surprising both of us with my sudden confidence. He follows, laughing when I turn and pull him back into another kiss before we've even reached the bed. The room is beautiful, but for once I don't care about the expensive surroundings. I care about the man standing close enough that I can feel his heartbeat beneath my palm. That’s not all I can feel.
When he reaches for the zipper of my dress, he waits for my nod before easing it down. I let him help me out of it, resisting the instinct to cover myself when he steps back to admire me.
"Beautiful," he murmurs.
"You're getting dangerously good at making me believe that."
"Then I'll keep telling you."
Enzo’s mouth finds mine again, but there’s nothing careful about this kiss. One hand slides into my hair while the other settles against my bare waist, and suddenly the polished gentleman who pulled out my chair at dinner is considerably less interested in manners. Thank God. I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him back, feeling his restraint disappear a little more every time our mouths meet. His hand travels down my side, over my hip, then stops at the edge of my panties.
He lifts his head.
“Bridget.”
I’m already breathing too hard. “If you ask whether I’m sure again, I’m going to start thinking you don’t want to see me naked.”
His eyes darken. “Sweetheart, if I wanted you any more than I do right now, I’d be fucking dangerous.”
Something about the way he says it sends heat straight between my legs.
“That sounded vaguely threatening.”
“It was a promise.”
Oh, fuck me. Literally, preferably. I reach for him, but Enzo catches my wrist before I can get very far.
“What?”
“Slow down.”
I stare at him. “You’ve spent two days chasing me, brought me to a restaurant where the bread probably has a credit score, and talked me into coming home with you. Now you want to slow down?”
His mouth curves. “I’ve been thinking about this since I saw you in that bridesmaid dress, bending over. I kept praying your tits would pop out.”
“That’s disturbingly specific.”
“I’m a very focused man.”
“I noticed.”
He kisses my wrist before letting it go, then his mouth moves down my throat. And lower. My smart mouth finally quits working when his lips brush the top of my breast.
“Oh.”
Enzo glances up. “Only oh?”
“Give me a minute. You’ve apparently found the off switch.”
“That might be my favorite discovery of the evening.”
“Don’t get cocky.”
“Too late.”
His hand slips around my back, and a second later my bra joins the dress on the floor. I immediately resist the urge to fold my arms over myself. Enzo notices. His gaze moves over my breasts, my stomach, my hips, every soft part I spent twenty minutes criticizing in the library bathroom earlier. There’s no disappointment on his face. No polite hesitation. He looks hungry.
“Jesus, Bridget.”
