Page 66 of Twisted Vows

She shouldn’t be this calm. Not after killing a man with a bumper and steel nerves, but here she is, tidying up my mess.

“I’ve been busy.”

Her laugh is short. “Yeah. Too busy to eat. Too busy to speak. Too busy to look at your wife.”

That word again. Wife.

The term winds around my throat, choking the air out of me. “I’m trying to protect you.”

“That’s not what I asked.”

Her voice has softened in a way that pulls my gaze to hers. Peering into her eyes, I suddenly realize I can’t lie or deflect now. I wonder if she knows she has this power to bewitch me.

“I want you.” The words fall out like a confession, and the tightness in my chest releases.

Her breath hitches, and her lips part, but nothing comes out of her mouth.

“I want you too much.” I continue, as if she’s ripping the raw, desperate admissions right out of me.

Her face flushes, pink spreading across her cheeks and down her neck, and her fingers tighten on my arm.

She goes still. Green eyes flicker, like I just rearranged the stars in her sky. “I thought…you hated me.”

“No.” My voice comes out rough, scraped raw. “I hate what I feel for you. Because I can’t control it.”

The silence between us stretches taut.

Her hand lingers on my shoulder, grazing my skin through the cotton of my shirt in a touch I recognize as intentional.

Her voice gentles to barely a breath. “I don’t want control.”

I take her lips, the kiss carrying the tension from days of holding back.

She grasps my face like she’s desperate for me, her nails teasing my scruffy chin and setting off sparks everywhere. I groan because I can’t help myself, because every part of me wants her, and I tug her closer. She hikes her skirt up and adjusts until she’s sitting on my thighs.

She’s not shy. She’s a wildfire, not asking for permission.

Our mouths meet again in a gritty display of desire that’s nothing like the movies, our greedy tongues trying to memorize the taste of each other. I kiss her like I fought a war for this, like I’m bleeding out in her hands. She kisses me back like she’s gulping down air after too long underwater.

Then her hips rock in a tiny shift that floods my brain. My body instantly reacts, pressing up harder, making her gasp. She responds with a choked moan that’s way too loud for the quiet of the room.

“Enzo.” Her breath scorches my neck as she finds that empty space behind my ear. “Why does this feel so…”

“Right?” I bite out before kissing her again, rougher now. “Because it is.”

My hands slowly roam beneath her shirt as if she’s breakable, but she leans into me like she’s hungry for me. Her skin’s burning, and her breaths growing sharp and fast. “Take it off.”

She does so without hesitation. Just yanks her shirt over her head and hurls it somewhere. My breath stutters. She’s…hell, she’s unreal. Naked like this, shivering in my lap, her cheeks flushed. I don’t even feel entitled. Only ravenous.

Fucking starving.

I start kissing down, tracing her neck, feeling her pulse drum wildly against my tongue. Her collarbone, her chest, every patch of skin I can reach. I kiss lower until I find the underside of her breast. She just gasps, her hands flying into my hair and holding me in place.

When her thighs encase me, my self-control basically disappears.

“Tell me to stop,” I say, my voice muffled against her skin.

She simply moans, desperate for more.