31. Chapter Thirty-One

My time is up. I made my decision, and I didn't sign the papers. Maybe that's why I can't sleep. Or maybe it's because I spent all day in bed.

I dig through the fridge for something to eat. There's a container of homemade ravioli that I pull out. I go through the cabinets looking for a bowl, slamming them shut after I grab one. I'm especially grumpy today. Unnecessarily pissed. Enzo's face would be a wonderful punching bag right about now. I scoop the food into the bowl angrily, splattering sauce on the counter. The glass clanks loudly when I put the porcelain bowl onto the glass dish of the microwave, and the fridge slaps sharply when I push the door closed.

"You know, I could help you with the frustration."

I startle and whirl around. Enzo is standing in the doorway in charcoal grey slacks. No shirt. No shoes. Nothing but slacks. I spend too much time staring at his tattooed body. His abs and sculpted chest. Toned arms and well-defined traps. The amount of power this man exudes is tenfold when I see him like this.

"Do you own anything other than fancy clothes?" I scoff, pulling my gaze away and bringing it to the microwave. Seriously, though. Doesn't the guy own a pair of jeans or shorts?

Where the hell is the button to start this stupid thing? All I want is for my food to warm up so I can eat!

"Be lucky I have pants on at all," he says, sauntering into the kitchen. I hate that I can see him from my peripheral. I wish I could block him out. He comes directly toward me, stopping inches away. "So what do you say?" he asks softly.

"About what?" I snap. I expect him to make a comment about the papers and the fact I didn't sign them.

"About me helping you."

"With what?" I bark, turning my gaze on him. He's so close, and there's that scent of his again. Only this time? It's worse. His scent, his natural one, is so much stronger not hidden beneath his laundered shirts and whatever cologne he uses. It has me nearly drunk.

Enzo drags his fingers up my arm, and he tugs on the sleeve of my oversized t-shirt. I shiver and hate myself for it.

"Of me helping you with that stress."

Do it, I think. But of course that isn't what I say.

"I'm not stressed."

He smirks.

"No?" Humor shines in his dark eyes. I shake my head. "Let me help you, anyway."

"I don't want you to touch me," I say, even though I don't mean it. Pretty sure he knows I don't mean it too because my words come out weak.

Enzo is hot as hell. It doesn't help that he somehow knows what my body wants. More so than I do, apparently. How is that not tempting? That's the problem. Pleasure is tempting. Through all ages, all walks of life, one thing humans crave is pleasure. And Enzo certainly gives it.

"I think you're lying," he says, moving closer. "I bet you've thought about my face between your legs at least twice today."

Try a hundred…

"No," I say, taking another step back until I hit the counter.

"I bet you're wet."

"Am not," I say. And I'm not. At least, I don't think I am. How the hell would I get wet within seconds of talking to him? "I don't even like you," I add.

The smirk widens as he moves closer, the heat of his body seeping into mine. Hate myself even more that I like it. This man is slowly destroying me, bit by bit.

"You don't have to like me to fuck me."

I open my mouth to respond, but nothing comes out.

He's right.

I didn't like him or Rafael at the club, yet I still did what I did.

"You're a monster," I whisper.

"Yeah? And you fucked me." He brushes his knuckles down my cheek. "What does that say about you, angel?"

I slap his hand away. "That was before I knew who you were."

He chuckles, low and raspy. "And you think that makes it better?"

Oh, the way those words anger me. The way he makes it seem like I'm some kind of whore for doing what I did. Like fucking someone I don't know is bad? He did the same thing. And he paid for it. I want to argue the point, but it's useless. He's only trying to get a rise out of me. Which is why I won't give it to him.

"Well, I hate you," I say casually.

There. No rise. Simple words.

"That may be true, but you're still wet. For me."

"I'm not," I grind out, gripping onto the countertop and digging my fingers in.

What the hell has gotten into him? He never acts like this. He never comes on to me like this. Hasn't done anything like this since I've been here. Not outside of the theater, but even then, it wasn't as brazen as this.

Enzo places his hands on the counter beside me, crowding my space. His firm chest grazes over my nipples, sending little sparks of pleasure right to my belly. He leans down by my ear, his scent making it hard to think. Why does he smell so damn good? I'm brought back to the night at the club. Sitting on his lap. Riding his cock.

"Prove it," he whispers.

A shiver runs up my spine, and I bite down on my lip to keep the moan away.

No, I will not give in to him like this.

What is with him? Is it because Rafael isn't here? Have they been together? Has he been with anyone? I hate that I don't know anything about him, yet I'm going to be his wife!

I open my mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. He crouches down to drag his fingers up the inside of my thigh, settling right over my pussy. Thank god I have panties on. I bite down on my lip harder, my heart thundering.

"Hmm," he hums. "Feels damp."

"You're wrong," I whisper, hating how weak it comes out.

"Am I?" He raises a brow, his look nothing short of arrogant. He hooks his finger in the side of my panties and pulls them aside. "You sure about that?"

"Yes," I say adamantly. But it's a lie. It's a big, huge, giant, wet lie.

"Care to make a bet?"

No, not really.

He's still holding my panties to the side, his fingers pressed into the crease of my thigh, taunting and teasing me. He's so close. Right there. He needs to move over an inch, and he'll be right where I need him.

So close…

"Fine." I raise my chin, ready to die on this hill.

"If I find you wet right now, so wet I can slip two fingers inside of you with ease, you let me eat your pussy." I suck in a breath. How is that a win for him?

"And if I'm not?" I breathe out.

"If you're not, I'll walk away and leave you to eat…" He glances at the microwave that still isn't running, then back at me. "Whatever it was you were going to eat."

He tilts his head to the side, waiting for an answer. I'm not going to win this bet. I know it. Yet, I still nod my head, because now all my body wants is for him to touch me. And maybe if I say no, I don't want to make a bet, he'll leave. I don't want him to leave.

Enzo came in here, looking all sexy in his pants, making me want him. So damn easily.

Would it be so horrible to have such a sexy husband? One who plays my body like his favorite instrument?

Yeah, because you won't be the only one he's fucking.

Nope. No. Not thinking about that.

"Ready?" he asks in a husky tone.

I run my tongue along my bottom lip. "Mhmm."

Enzo lets go of my panties and they stay in place. Two fingers press down on my clit and my body trembles. I grip the counter tighter, refusing to give him any sound of pleasure. He holds my gaze and I hold his right back. I'm not backing down from this. I'm not giving up. Slowly, he slides his fingers through my folds. His eyes flicker with excitement as his fingers rest over my hole. My soaking wet hole.

He hums a sound of approval. "Angel?"

"Yeah?" I whimper, my legs trembling.

"You lost," he whispers, slipping his fingers inside me. I cry out, shooting up to my toes. My back bows from the counter, pushing his fingers deeper. He slides them all the way in, stroking my inside walls before pulling them out and shoving them back in with ease. He groans, this deep rumble of a sound and shockwaves of lust jolt through me.

My eyes squeeze shut as he fucks me slowly with his fingers, the wet sounds echoing around the silent room. When he pulls them out, my eyes dart open. So does my mouth, ready to tell him off. He needs to keep going! But before I can yell at him for stopping, his hands are on my ass and he's lifting me to sit on the cold marble counter. He crouches down, spreading my knees wide and diving in.

He drags the flat of his tongue from bottom to top, licking me up and suckling on my clit. My head falls back, banging against the cabinets. I grab onto the edge of the counter as he devours me in a way I've never been devoured before. He's slow but meticulous, like he's savoring me. Similar to the way Rafael did, but with more. Just more. Like he wants this more, enjoys it more, wants me to enjoy it more. Like he's trying to prove a point and show me he's better.

There's something about the way Enzo touches me that isn't only for my pleasure, but his too. I noticed it at the club, and it's no different tonight or the night in the theater.

Being with Rafael was fun. I knew what he was doing was for his pleasure as much as my own. When I was with Zach, it was all for him. But with Enzo? Everything is so meticulous. So controlled. He does things that please me first, and it's like his pleasure is tied to that. Doing things I like brings him his pleasure.

Sounds a little twisted since he isn't the submissive one, but what do I know?

"Are you mad, angel?" he asks as he slides a finger inside of me.

"About—what?" I pant, grasping at his hair and tugging.

"That you lost," he says, running his nose along the inside of my thigh. He pushes his finger all the way into me, pressing upwards and dragging it out. I moan, my eyes falling shut again.

"No," I breathe out. "No, no, no," I chant as my hips rock against his finger. "Please, keep going. More."

He delivers without a word, flicking my clit with his hot tongue.

Before I know it, the heat of an orgasm builds in my lower stomach. The way Enzo can make me come so quickly is ridiculous. It shouldn't be possible. How the hell is he this skilled?

"Enzo," I moan, thrusting my hips against his tongue and gripping his hair tighter.

"Yes, angel. Give it to me."

He groans against me, suckles on my clit, and the orgasm crashes over me so hard I see stars. The counter beneath me grows slippery and Enzo digs his hands into my thighs to hold me in place as he keeps going, the orgasm lasting for what feels like forever.

When he stands, the light from the window flickers across him. His face and chest are dripping.

Dripping.

My eyes widen as fear freezes me. My heart is pounding, and I'm panting to catch my breath.

"Did-Did I—"

I can't get the words out.

First, it's my period.

Now, I—oh, god. I peed on him?

"Angel, that was by far the sexiest thing I've ever experienced. You just came so hard you squirted all over me."

He's panting too. Looking like he's about to lose his control any second.

"I—what?"

Enzo tilts my chin up and leans down to kiss me. He kisses me and his mouth is soaked, both tangy and sweet and—

He pulls back, fingers digging into my thighs. I stare at the little droplets dripping down his chest, and I'm so confused. I squirted? I don't know what that means.

"I want so badly to fuck this perfect cunt, angel. Fuck, you have no goddamn idea how badly I want it."

I search his eyes, another wave of lust coursing through me. "Do it," I tell him.

I wait for my inner voice to yell at me for giving him permission, but it doesn't. My conscience is quiet.

Maybe being married to him won't be so bad after all?

"Please, Enzo. Please fuck me," I beg.

He shakes his head, dragging his thumb along my bottom lip. He leans in for another soft sweet kiss. "You're not ready for that yet."

I frown as he steps back. His eyes stay on me as he takes a few backward steps. The bulge in his pants is so painfully obvious. Where is he going? He gives me the smallest smile I've ever seen before turning and leaving.

I'm not ready for that yet? What does that mean? I'm very ready. I'm soaked. I begged him. Begged! I gave him permission. I'm still here, waiting.

And I keep waiting. For at least five minutes, in the same spot, thinking he's trying to teach me some kind of lesson and will come back to fuck me like he said he wanted to.

He wants to. He said he wanted to.

So why didn't he?

I hop off the counter, slipping on the wetness on the floor, but catch my balance and don't fall. I scramble to gather paper towels to wipe this all up before I hurry to my room, my cheeks flaming.

If I'd have stayed with Zach, who knows where my life would be? I'd be miserable. I'd be a fool. He was cheating on me, and maybe he would have stopped, but probably not forever. He'd do it again. My life would be awful.

At least with Enzo, things won't be like that. There is a chance of me being happy.

I think back to the conversation we had over dinner. When I'd asked about Rafael and being able to go out, he said it was all up to me.

Can I trust Enzo to be faithful to me? To give me the kind of life I want?

The only way to know is to ask.

Well, and to wait and find out.

Right now, I'm not sure which route I plan to take.