Page 69 of Unlocked Desire: Vol One
I grab the towel and wrap it around myself. “Do you mind?”
The jerk has the nerve to smirk, making my damn knees weak. He pushes away from the doorway and moves toward me, his gait slow and sexy like he knows he’s God’s gift to womankind. His large fingers brush the top of the towel.
There’s something powerful about the way he looks at me, like a starved man who finally sees a meal. I sense his touch on my skin, just from the intensity in his eyes. It’s feral and animalistic like it’s only for me.
“I mind that you’ve covered up that sexy body,” he whispers.
I gasp as he rips the towel from my body.
Touch is a powerful thing. It unlocks the memories we protect behind a vault, some good, some painful, and some we didn’t even know we had. Enzo brushes his finger against my bottom lip, and I’m transported back to that night when I tasted freedom with his body on top of mine.
“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.” He turns to leave. “What do you want to eat?” He looks cute as he rubs the back of his neck, not like the ruthless killer I saw not too long ago, but adorable—sweet, even. “I guess it’s something I should learn about you.”
I’m touched he’s even asking. He doesn’t seem like a man who cares about the wants and needs of others, but then again, he might try to dull my senses before he makes me his sex slave. The sad part is I’d be whatever he wants, but there’s no way I’m letting him in on that. “Whatever you want is fine. I’m not a picky eater.”
He nods and walks out.
The attached bedroom is massive. It’s adorned with satin sheets, a down duvet, and piles of pillows on the bed, not a room that would belong to a guy like Enzo. I walk into the giant closet, and it’s full of clothing, dresses, pants, pretty blouses, and so many shoes. My stomach turns, and bile rises in the back of my throat. I met him at a sex club, a place where swingers go. He obviously has a wife or girlfriend, and this is their kink—bring home a plaything, have a little fun, discard her, even kill her. It isn’t like Enzo’s not capable of that.
I open the drawer and avoid the underwear. No way in hell am I wearing some other woman’s panties. Disgusting. I slip on jeans and a T-shirt and head into the kitchen. The aroma is mouthwatering.
One look at Enzo, and I feel like a Mack Truck has hit me. He’s so handsome he takes my breath away. He’s no longer in the three-piece suit. Instead, he’s wearing jeans, like me, and a button-down black shirt with the sleeves rolled up, displaying a scattering of black tattoos. He hums as he plates food like a fuckin’ artist. It’s hard to believe that the same hands that kill so callously are capable of anything else.
“Smells good.”
His head shoots up, a sexy, lopsided smirk appearing on his handsome face. “One of the three things I’m good at.”
“Kill, cook, and what’s the third?”
“Fuck, Principessa. I fuck well. But you already know that.”
Heat creeps into my face, and I’m positive I’ve turned beet red.
“You’re cute when you blush.” He winks before moving the plates to the kitchen table, gesturing for me to sit down.
“I’m surprised you cook.”
“Why?” He shrugs, leaning back in his chair. “All men should know how. I plan for my women to be naked, willing, and able for fuckin’, and I need to ensure she’s well fed for the activities I like to partake in.” He winks and takes a bite of his pasta. I want to beat the shit out of the pasta for having his lips on them when they aren’t on mine. “Eat your food.”
Chapter 6
ENZO
She’s playing with her food, and it’s pissing me off. She needs to fuckin’ eat. My temper rises, and I’m about to take her fork and shove the food down her pretty throat. Keeping my monster at bay is hard, but for her, I’m trying. I’m trying fuckin’ hard, but she keeps testing my paper-thin patience.
“In some cultures, it’s rude not to eat the host’s food.”
“You? Insulted?”
She has such a smart fuckin’ mouth. “Better watch that mouth before it gets punished. I technically own you now.”
“Oh, is that what I am? Your personal sex slave?”
This fuckin’ girl. I dig the heels of my hands into my eyes, frustrated and unsure what to do about it. I could force her onto her knees and let her body take over, shut her mind off, let her feel me and me her, but I don’t want just sex from her. One fuckin’ taste six months ago ruined me for her.
The irony is I was fine. I was so focused on bringing down the man who ruined my family that I hadn’t sniffed around a woman in years. I also never wanted a woman for more than a night, but Reese consumed me. I used to make fun of my buddy Vance about his obsession with his wife, but now I’m fuckin’ burning in the same inferno.
“You’re not my prisoner.”