Those lips were made for sinning.
Resisting the urge to move, I refused to let him see me squirm. He hadn't so much as touched me, but he seared my skin with his brand and imprinted himself on my soul with nothing but a look. "You want me to put my hands on you, Baby Girl?" he asked. "I can think of far more interesting ways to entertain you."
I swallowed, shaking off the fog of lust threatening to make me jump his bones.
Well, bone.
"This is the only thing I'm interested in," I said.
"Little Liar," he chuckled, shaking his head. The look on his face held zero trace of the annoyance most men would have felt if they thought I was playing hard to get. Instead, my resistance only seemed to spur Enzo on and make him more determined to watch me unravel. Something lurked behind his eyes, a demon simmering below the surface even though his face and words seemed otherwise amused.
I had the distinct impression I was treading water in the deep end and too naïve to realize a current threatened to pull me under.
"Don't be a douchebag," I laughed. "We both know sex would be a blast, but it isn’t going to happen. So put on your big boy pants, jump up here, and show me what you've got, Enzo."
He complied, pulling himself into the ring with a masculine grace that should have been impossible for a man his size. Enzo moved like an assassin in the night, fluid and silent until he wanted his victim to feel that single moment of pure terror before it all ended. Bellandi men were psychotic, often enjoying the thrill and fear they instilled in their victims before they struck.
But Enzo was his own brand of crazy. Determined to win, with zero interest in anything but getting the job done, he didn't do it for joy.
He did it because it was his duty, and I had a feeling he was a killing machine beneath the careful facade he created to hide what lurked inside him.
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