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“Still here.”

“Unfortunately.”

His shirt lands on the floor. My mouth goes dry. Three weeks should have made me immune to the sight of him without clothes. It has not.

Enzo catches me staring. “See something you like?”

“Don’t ruin it.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

I flatten my palms against his chest and push. He actually moves. One step. Then another. His expression changes. Not because I’m strong enough to make Lorenzo Moretti go anywhere he doesn’t want to go. Because he’s letting me. That knowledge sends something hot and powerful through me.

I keep pushing until the backs of his legs hit the couch.

“Sit.”

His eyebrows rise. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

Something darker enters his eyes. “Well, well.”

“What?”

“My sweet little librarian found her bossy side.”

“I learned from a professional.”

Enzo sits. Slowly. His gaze never leaves mine. I step between his knees. For the first time since I met him, Lorenzo Moretti looks like a man waiting to find out what I’m going to do. I like it. Far too much.

His hands settle on my hips. I catch one.

“No.”

His head tilts. “No?”

“My turn.”

That smile is dangerous. “All right, Bridget.”

I release his hand. He puts both palms flat against the couch. Actually obeys. Holy shit. Maybe this is what power feels like.

I bend and kiss him, taking my time because I can. His mouth opens beneath mine, and I feel the exact second his patience starts to crack. His fingers flex against the leather cushion. I pull back.

“Hands.”

“They’re down.”

“Keep them there.”

His eyes narrow. “Careful, sweetheart.”

“Or what?”

“You’re gonna find out how much self-control I’ve been exercising.”

I smile.