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“I thought you liked being bossed around,” he says.

“I like bossing you around better.”

“Enjoy it while it lasts.”

I lean forward and drag my tongue over the head of his cock. Whatever answer he had disappears. His entire body locks. Oh. That is satisfying. For the both of us. I do it again.

“Sweetheart.”

The warning in his voice makes heat curl low in my stomach.

“Yes?”

“You’re playing with fire.”

“I thought Morettis liked danger.”

His eyes sharpen.

I barely notice because I take all of him into my mouth. Enzo swears. Not elegantly. Not in Italian. Just one rough, filthy curse that makes me ridiculously proud of myself.

His fingers dig into the couch. I take him deeper. His hips twitch upward before he stops himself. Immediately.

“Sorry.”

I pull back. “For what?”

“I moved.”

“You’re allowed to move.”

His eyes search mine. “You sure?”

The question shouldn’t make my chest ache while I’m kneeling between his thighs with his slippery cock in my hand. It does anyway.

“I’ll tell you if I want you to stop.”

Something in him relaxes. “Okay.”

I lick him slowly. His head drops back again. “Fuck, Bridget.”

There is power in that sound. I understand now why he enjoys making me lose my mind. Watching Lorenzo Moretti’s composure crack might become my new favorite hobby.

I take him into my mouth again and let him move this time. Not much. Just enough that I can feel how badly he wants more. One of his hands lifts. Stops.

“Can I touch you?”

I look up. The sight of him asking while I’m on my knees should not be this fucking sexy.

I nod. His hand slides into my hair. Not forcing. Not pushing. Just holding. His fingers tighten when I take him deeper. “That’s it.”

My stomach flips. Apparently, that voice works even when I’m the one supposedly in charge. Annoying.

I use my hand with my mouth, learning what makes his breathing change, what makes his stomach muscles tighten, what makes those controlled dark eyes close. Enzo lets me experiment for about thirty seconds. Then I apparently find something particularly effective. His hand tightens in my hair. “Bridget.”

I keep going.

“Sweetheart.”