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“No, more than that.”

“And tattooing your ass?” I ask, biting my lower lip.

“It was too stark having my thighs and back done and not that. That only took one session and didn’t hurt,” he replies.

“Okay, turn around.”

He does as I squeeze more sunscreen into my hands. I place them on his chest to cover his front. “Your birth year right above your waistband is a little diabolical, you know?”

Now it’s his turn to wince. “Tattooing my fucking stomach was diabolical. It was…excruciating, but I was committed by that point.”

I go on my tiptoes and glide my hands over his shoulders. “What’s your next one?” I ask.

He lifts his left hand. “Aside from touch-ups, finally putting something here.” He shows me the bare spot on his left ring finger.

“Like what?”

“The first initial of the person I end up marrying,” he answers calmly.

A shiver runs down my spine. Enzo can’t possibly be thinking of proposing so soon. I’m not sure what I’d say. I wouldn’t want to be forced into living nine hours away from my fiancée for two years.

“You might have to wait a while on that.”

Enzo shrugs with a sigh. “Some things in life are worth waiting for.”

“Like getting married and having kids?” I ask.

“Yeah, exactly that. You have a timeline, and it’s not fair to ask you to change it.”

But we’ve been reckless. I could be pregnant now. A shudder runs over me. I really need to figure out when my next period is due.

It’s too late to backtrack now.

Chapter Twenty-Three

Enzo

Tilly parked in my driveway on a weeknight after a long day at the office is chef’s kiss. Since she liked the plug over the weekend, I have another surprise for her. We don’t need to spice it up already, but I almost feel like I’m doing her a disservice not exposing her to other kinds of pleasure. I just hope she doesn’t mind that I have more experience.

I pull up in front of my neighbor’s house and shift the truck into reverse, and in the backup camera, she’s left me plenty of room to park. Considerate of her—not that I would have been mad if she had missed that detail.

She’s only human.

“Hey! I’m a little early,” Tilly says as I hop out of the truck. She leans against the side of her car on the side closest to my truck.

“It’s cool. I got held up on my way out.” I lean down and kiss her. “You taste good.”

“So do you. Wine tasting before you left?”

“Just a couple of sips of last year’s samples.” My eyes dart toward the front door. “Let’s get inside.” She follows me up the stone path to the front door and waits while I unlock it. “I want to see your neck,” I add quietly, opening the heavy door.

“E, there’s nothing really to see.” I raise my brows at her and shut the door. “If you have to.”

She uses both hands to collect her hair and pull it over her shoulder. The purple fingerprint bruises are fading, greener now instead of the original purplish-blue and thankfully not as noticeable against her skin tone. A few bruises after rough sex weren’t shocking, but the context still made my stomach churn. She says it’s fine, but everything’s always fine to her—a victim’s defense. And I never want to mark her again. Not after the childhood she had.

She tosses her hair back over her shoulder. “They’re fading,” she adds, brushing past me.

“They are,” I agree. “I ordered pizza and salad before I left. It should be here soon.”