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I down the rest of my glass. “Do you say that to all the girls?”

Enzo looks to either side of himself and smirks at me. “What other girls?”

“You’re smooth,” I tease. I set my glass onto the coaster with a soft clink and move to straddle his lap. His large hands instinctively find the sides of my thighs as I bring my lips to his inked neck, just under the stubble poking through his skin.

“You’re the only one. I promise,” he murmurs.

“Better be,” I whisper against his neck.

“You’re going to make me hard if you keep doing that,” Enzo groans.

“Mm, is that so bad?” I ask against his lips.

“I don’t want to move too fast tonight.”

I rub my palm over his jean-clad crotch, just as he let me feel his arousal last night. “Maybe I do.”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

“Come the fuck on, E,” I groan. “Leaving things how you did last night about killed me.”

“You mean when I ate you out?”

My cheeks burn, but I want him to do it again. “Yes. That. Can I return the favor?” I ask, lightly dancing my fingertips over the fly of his jeans.

“I don’t know if you’re ready for it.” He doesn’t make it sound like a threat but rather a challenge.

“Try me,” I whisper. Wanting to up the ante, I shift my skirt upward slightly, revealing I’m bare under. His eyes flicker down between us, then to my face. He’s unreadable as usual. “I’m not playing.”

Enzo stares into my eyes, and his lips twitch. “Fine, get your ass upstairs.” He playfully slaps the sides of my thighs, and I happily jump to my feet. He grabs the wine bottle from the coffee table, shoves the cork back inside, and sets it in the refrigerator. I follow his lead as he turns toward the stairs. Each step up the wooden stairs reminds me of the butterflies still floating around in my core, and as we step onto the second floor, I know this is it.

He leads me through an open doorway, and I practically skip past him into his room. A king-sized four-poster bed is the centerpiece of the room. It has large beams that run between the posts, with an upholstered bench in front of the bed. The walls are painted the same gray tone, and the comforter is dark blue with two nightstands on either side. I assume the French doors lead to the en-suite bathroom.

I sense Enzo behind me, and he presses his torso against my back. A jagged exhale leaves me as he sweeps my hair over my shoulder and grazes his fingertips down my sides to the bottom hemline of my tank top.

He presses a kiss against the side of my exposed neck. “Should I strip you?” he asks softly. “Don’t tell me you’re getting nervous now, Bee.” His fingertips slip under the slick material of my shirt.

“I’m fine,” I murmur.

“You wanted this. Time to play ball, Tills.”

In one swift movement, he pulls my tank top over my head, and I lean my bare back against his clothed chest. I know he’s tall enough to see down my front, and I beg the liquid courage to kick in again.

“And this can go.”

He shoves my skirt just past my hips, and it falls to my ankles. I turn to face him, refusing to look down at how naked I am now. Enzo covers his mouth with his hand, as if he’s thinking or evaluating me. I have a nice body—toned from years of running—but still get self-conscious. But not now, though. Not with the way he’s looking at me like I’m the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen. Or it’s wishful thinking.

He breaks the silence by clearing his throat. “Get on the bed,” he says.

“You’re so bossy,” I flirtatiously tease. I want to also tease him I must have passed whatever his test was, but I don’t want him to backtrack now.

He cocks his brow upward. “If you want to get fucked, you’re going to play by my rules,” he responds in a calm, hushed tone.

Fiiiiine.

I lean back against the thick pillows, feeling the draft of the cool air conditioning breeze against my bare skin. Goosebumps rise across my body, not from the AC, but from the way he’s still looking at me.

To be a fly on the wall in his mind.