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Now that I’m completely nude, he harbors no urgency. His mouth finds the inside of my knee, flicking and nibbling upward to my thighs.

His tongue moves in lazy circles, driving me mad.

When I push my hip toward him, he holds me back, scraping my thighs with his tongue and tracing playful patterns along my hip bone.

I’m dripping now. Trembling and desperate.

The anticipation is killing me, sparking my nerves. He’s enjoying every second, fanning the flames until I’m begging.

“Enzo, please,” I gasp, my hips jerking as I chase any kind of friction.

I’d take anything at this point, any part of him touching that core.

He finally settles between my thighs, and for a split second, relief floods me…but no, he’s still dragging this out. His head dips, and the first swipe of his tongue hits like a live wire.

I jerk off the rug with an unintelligible noise. He’s not just teasing…he’s everywhere, eating me out like he’s starving…his tongue relentless and filthy. One hand pins my hip, and the other spreads me open, his thumb zeroing in on my clit and pressing just right to drive me crazy. He works me with this slow, wicked expertise.

It’s too much. So, I groan, curse, and moan, my nails clawing at the rug, my back arching as I try to release it all. Everything fades. Only the pleasure his mouth can give me—like a hurricane about to break loose—matters.

His tongue plunges inside me, his fingers playing with my G-spot. The storm erupts. I scream, shuddering as my body locks up around his mouth, an orgasm roaring through me like a freight train. Stars burst behind my eyelids. I can’t breathe, can’t think…only feel.

He’s breathing heavily as he crawls up my body. I’m boneless beneath him when his mouth finds mine again and gives me a taste of myself—hot, messy, and so damn intimate—that triggers another surge of need.

I feel him through his pants, thick and hard against my thigh. He wants me as badly as I want him. The certainty anchors the wildness in my chest. My hands unsteadily push at his shoulders, and he rolls onto his back, his eyes widening in surprise.

My turn, big guy.

I straddle him and kiss him fiercely, biting his lips as I struggle with his buttons. Eventually, I pry the shirt open, my hands rubbing all over his hard muscles, the ridges of old scars, the dark trail of hair at his waist…learning him, claiming him, memorizing the proof that he’s here and he’s mine.

I pinch him above his hips, and he twitches. Then I lick and bite his right nipple. He groans, raw and guttural, and grabs my waist. Beneath my palms, his heart races.

“I’m about to blow your mind,” I whisper.

His chuckle rumbles through his chest. “My mind or me?”

“Both.” I wink, then trail my lips down the solid planes of his stomach, following the line of hair that disappears beneath his waistband. My fingers make quick work of his belt, yank down his zipper, and free him.

He’s gorgeous. Thick and heavy in my hand and already leaking at the tip. Eight inches of him, stiff and straining for me.

My heart pounds. This man—this dangerous, broken, beautiful man—is mine. The thought sends heat flooding through me. I glance up, needing to see his face.

His jaw clenches as he regards me like I’m the only thing keeping him alive.

Lifting my head, I stare into his lust-hazed eyes, smile sheepishly, and close my mouth over him.

His moan pierces my soul. His hips jerk. Fingers tangle in my hair, not forcing, just gripping. I wrap my hand around the base of his cock, hollow my cheeks, and then swirl my tongue around him, pumping him simultaneously.

I sense him stiffening, fighting to restrain himself, and surrender to the thrill of control. I’m in charge…and he’s allowing me to be.

“Sophia, sto per venire…” he begs. Hearing my name in his breaking voice sends heat straight through me.

I let him slip from my lips so I can crawl up his body. “Not yet.” I breathe hot against his mouth. “I want you inside.”

As he flips us and settles over me, his expression almost turns reverent. Some profound, unspoken exchange passes between us. He aligns himself, nudging me with the wide tip of his cock. Greedy for all of him, I hook my legs around his hips.

He presses in by degrees, filling me up and stretching me until I’m gasping, the ache blooming into an achingly right fullness, like he’s exactly where I need him to be. When he’s buried deep, he stops, his forehead pressed to mine, his eyes locked on me as if nothing else exists. In that gaze, I see everything. His fear, his hope, the weight he carries, along with this untamed desire to just be with me, right here, right now.

His hand cups my face, his thumb brushing my cheek. His eyes glisten…raw, vulnerable. “Look at me, Sophia…”