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“So, all Italian men are in the mafia?”
“No. Actually, you look like a man physically incapable of guilt.”
“That’s probably closer.”
He kisses me before I can examine that answer too carefully. He gets rid of the rest of his clothes and puts on the condom before pulling me close again.
A few minutes later, I understand exactly why he wanted me to use my words. Enzo likes hearing them. He likes hearing his name. Likes when I tell him harder instead of expecting him to guess. Likes when I laugh against his mouth because he says something arrogant and immediately proves he has every reason to be. And apparently I like seeing what happens when the calm, controlled Lorenzo Moretti starts losing control.
“Enzo.”
His forehead drops against mine. “Again.”
“You have an ego problem.”
“Say my name, Bridget.”
I smile. Then I deliberately don’t. His eyes narrow.
“Oh, no.”
“What?”
“You’re doing that on purpose.”
“I have no idea what you mean.”
“Liar.”
He changes the rhythm just enough that my amusement vanishes. My breath catches.
“Tesoro.”
“Asshole.”
“Name.”
I grip his shoulders. “Enzo.”
“That’s my girl.”
Those words still do something ridiculous to me. I kiss him hard enough to stop him saying anything else.
For a while, the only things in the world are warm skin, tangled sheets, sunlight moving slowly across the floor, and the ocean outside. There is no worrying about how I look. No wondering whether he wishes I were younger or thinner or quieter. No awkwardness. When I want something, I tell him. When he asks me to look at him, I do. When he calls me beautiful, I almost believe him without argument.
Eventually, I end up above him, hair falling around my face while Enzo watches me with a look that sends a fresh wave of heat through me. His hands settle at my hips. I cover one with mine.
“Don’t.”
His eyebrow lifts. “Don’t what?”
“Take over.”
For half a second, I expect the bossy bastard to argue. Instead his hands loosen.
“Your show, sweetheart.”
That might be the hottest thing he’s ever said. I move. Enzo’s jaw tightens. Well, look at that. I do it again. His head falls back against the pillow.
