Accidentally Yours (Merffy Kizzmet) novel Chapter 32

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Accidentally Yours

Chapter 32

Lola

She sat in his lap for a long moment after the kiss.

Just breathing.

His fingers still rested lightly on her thigh, and that new ring on her hand felt like it weighed ten pounds.

She traced the edges of it, lips still tingling, heart thudding somewhere up in her throat.

What the hell had just happened?

You gave a mafia don the lap dance of his life.

He gave you a ring.

And it wasn’t even about the fake engagement anymore.

‘It was a promise.

She climbed off his lap slowly, cheeks warm, limbs still buzzing.

“I should… change,” she murmured, suddenly breathless. “Before one of your men kicks the door in thinking you’ve been assassinated by Cinnamon.”

Enzo smirked but didn’t move. “Take your time. Dom saw enough to know there’s nothing to worry about.”

Haha oh poor little Dom. He’s not going to be able to look me in the eyes when we get back. Probably thinking about what’s happening RIGHT now. Poor fella saw too much and not enough. Enzo probably would have taken his eyes had he stayed.

Before she disappeared behind the curtain to change, she turned and tugged Enzo’s hand.

“Wait. Photo first.”

He blinked. “Now?”

She smirked. “For the memory.”

They posed–her still in the leather–and–lace Cinnamon getup, Enzo with his hand firm on her waist, jaw tight, still reeling from the dance. She held the camera high, leaned in, gave the lens a flirty wink.

Click.

And then she was gone.

She grabbed the clean outfit left hanging on the hook and disappeared into the tiny dressing alcove, swapping the leather and lace for something a little more casual and comfortable–denim shorts, and cropped off–shoulder T.

I liked my other outfit, but this was more my speed, glad the manager could buy something off one of the girls for me.

When she stepped out, Enzo was already waiting at the door.

Hand outstretched.

Waiting like he knew she’d come back for him. Like there was never a question.

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5:47 pm PPPP

Chapter 32

And yeah–she took it. No hesitation.

This man makes me weak at the knees. How can I want to jump this man, I just met, like I do? It doesn’t make sense.

Gloss reapplied. Hair tousled and slightly sweaty but good enough. One of the most comfortable cropped tees Lola had ever warn showing slight under boob if you’re not careful, frayed denim shorts cut high enough to be a public service announcement. The pink diamond still glinted on her finger like it had something to say.

Her heels clicked against the floor–ridiculous torture devices really brought the entire fit together (not). Enzo’s eyes were on her legs.

Worth it.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just stared. Like she was something he was still deciding whether to worship or ruin.

And she wanted both.

Wanted him wrecked. Wanted him devout.

God, I am so screwed.

“I missed you,” he said quietly, as they started walking.

Like it wasn’t stupid. Like it wasn’t dangerous.

Like it wasn’t fucking real.

She squeezed his hand. “I was gone six minutes.”

“I know,” he said. “It felt like six years.”

Too late.

I may have been six feet from the edge but now it’s a free fall.

They turned the corner into the main room, and Lola clocked two dancers on break–one with a shaved head and neon green eyeliner, the other all thighs and mischief with a glittering septum ring. Both dangerously hot.

She didn’t even pause. Just hooked one arm around each of their waists.

“You girls free?” she asked. “I’ve got a booth full of testosterone in need of some artistic inspiration.”

Enzo leaned in close, lips brushing her ear. “You’re really just gonna collect strippers like that?”

She gave him a look. “What? Is it giving you dirty thoughts?”

He smirked–that smirk. The slow, ruin–you kind. “Too late for that. And that was before you snatched up these two.”

Oh, lord.

This was supposed to be a distraction.

Because if I don’t distract his men, they’re gonna spend the next hour asking how far I let him get under my skin.

And I don’t feel like lying.

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5:47 pm PP

Chapter 32

The booth erupted the moment they walked up.

Gino threw both arms in the air like his team had just won a playoff game. “Look what the hell my favorite tattoo artist brought back with her!”

Marco raised his drink. “Blessings upon you, Saint Lola of the Lap Dance.”

Dom’s brows shot up as the dancers slid into the booth like silk. “Wait. Hold up. Are you into girls?”

Lola dropped into his lap with the weight of a threat. “Tried it once. Didn’t like the moisture ratio.”

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