Accidentally Yours (Merffy Kizzmet) novel Chapter 220

Chapter 220

Enzo

The elevator doors slid shut on the sound of her laughter, and Enzo finally let himself breathe.

She’d scared the hell out of him.

One text–911 in the garage–and his heart had dropped clean out of his chest.

Now she was draped over his shoulder, complaining about being carried like a sack of potatoes, smelling like sweat, adrenaline, and the victory that nearly broke her.

He should have been irritated.

Instead, he felt wrecked. Relieved. So in love it hurt.

The air up here was cooler, scented with her vanilla body lotion and the faint tang of espresso that always seemed to linger. He carried her straight to the bathroom and set her on the counter and turned the tap. Steam began to fog the mirror by the time he came back with a towel, water hissing against porcelain like it was exhaling for her.

“Stay put,” he ordered.

“I’m not going anywhere,” she said, trying to peel off her hoodie and immediately wincing. “Okay, maybe a little help.”

He set her on the counter and reached for her hoodie.

“Arms up,” he said quietly.

She obeyed, slow and wincing, muttering something about hating gravity. He eased the fabric over her head, careful not to brush the tender spots he already knew by heart. The cotton rasped against her skin, warm from her body, and for a second he just looked at her bruised, exhausted, still trying to grin through it.

Christ, you don’t know how to stop, do you?

She gave a shaky laugh when he freed her arms. “You’re staring.”

“Making sure you’re still in one piece.”

“Mostly.”

“Good enough,” he murmured, turning back to the tap.

“Thanks, hero.”

He tested the water, adjusted the temperature. “In.”

She eased herself down, hissing at first contact, then sank with a long, broken exhale that turned nearly indecent. “Oh my God, yes.”

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10:47 Thu, Oct 16

Chapter 220

Enzo rolled his sleeves to the elbow, crouching beside the tub. “You sound like I filled it with sin.”

Her eyes stayed closed, grin lazy. “Maybe you did. Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Accusations,” he murmured, dipping a cup to pour warm water over her shoulders. Suds slid down her arms, the tension in her face. dissolving as the heat seeped in.

Christ, look at her.

The sharp–edged firebrand he carried through the world became something quieter here unguarded, human, his.

He wrung a cloth, ran it along the curve of her shoulder, the hollow of her throat. Every sigh of hers landed heavy in his chest. When she opened her eyes, they were clear again.

“You really don’t have to do all this,” she said softly.

He dipped the cup again, poured another cascade of heat over her. “I know.” He brushed a damp strand from her forehead. “Guess I like taking care of you. Even when you scare the hell out of me first.”

Her lips curved, small but real. “I keep life interesting.”

He smiled. “That’s one word for it.”

Water lapped against porcelain. He felt the tension leave her body, one muscle at a time, until her whole frame went quiet under his hands. She tilted her head, watching him for a while.

Then: “Marry me.”

The words landed like a heartbeat misfire.

He froze. For half a breath he thought he’d imagined it; heat, exhaustion, the echo of the faucet. But she was watching him, dead serious.

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