Accidentally Yours (Merffy Kizzmet) novel Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Enzo

It was past one in the morning when the limo finally pulled up to the penthouse.

Everyone was drunk, full of glitter, sweat, and too many almost–moments. Gino was halfway asleep against the door, Dom was mumbling about hash browns like they were a religious experience, and Marco had already started complaining about heartburn.

Lola, still barefoot from dancing, tugged open the front door and turned with a lazy grin.

“I’m making grilled cheese. You’re all welcome to live another day.”

They mumbled approval like she’d just offered them gold.

He followed her into the kitchen and watched her move–loose, radiant, like the night had carved something wild into her. She still had on that knotted tee and the cutoffs that had been riding too high all damn night. The glitter had faded, but the sway of her hips had not.

Bread. Butter. American cheese. A pan already hissing on the stove.

Simple. Messy. Perfect.

She passed them out one by one–sizzling, greasy, too much butter, too much cheese–and he’d never seen his men so quiet.

She fed a mafia crew grilled cheese at 1 a.m. in a crop top and eyeliner smudged to hell and back.

And they all looked at her like she was divine.

And maybe she was.

Eventually, they peeled off. One by one. Bellies full. Spirits fried.

Until it was just the two of them.

Lola was standing in front of the sink, licking cheese off her finger. Casual. Innocent. Dangerous.

Enzo leaned against the doorway and just watched her.

Waited.

Let the silence stretch.

She glanced at him. “You want the last one?”

He shook his head. “No.”

He took a slow step forward. “I want you.”

She didn’t move. Didn’t blink. But he could see her heartbeat in the hollow of her throat.

“Enzo…”

“You’ve been driving me fucking crazy all day,” he said, stepping in close–so close their bodies didn’t touch, but felt like they were. “The outfits. The dance. The mouth on you.”

“You didn’t seem to mind.”

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Chapter 34.

He leaned in, voice dark velvet. “I minded so much I nearly dragged you into the champagne closet and made you scream my name over the bassline.”

Her breath hitched.

“But I waited,” he murmured. “Because I didn’t want a show. I wanted you. No distractions. No games.”

She tilted her head, lip caught between her teeth. “No games?”

He nodded, jaw tight. “None.”

She smiled. Slow. Wicked.

“Well then,” she whispered, eyes gleaming-

“Maybe just one more.”

Then she shoved him.

Not hard–but enough.

Enough to start running barefoot out of the kitchen, laughing like sin, hair flying, that cropped little tee rising up with every step.

For a full second, he just stood there. Blinking.

She’s running. From me.

And he’d never chased a woman in his life. Never needed to. Never wanted to.

Now he was fucking hungry.

Oh little Kitten, I’m not going to chase you but I’m going to hunt you.

He bolted after her. Fast. Precise. Predator.

She squealed and disappeared down the hall, nearly wiping out around the corner.

“Keep running, Gattino(kitten),” he growled, voice echoing after her. “I’m going to catch you.”

She laughed–god, that laugh–and shouted back, “You better!”

She hit the main living area and vaulted over the back of the couch like some kind of tiny parkour gremlin. He followed, sharp and fast, muscles tight with adrenaline and need.

She dodged. He pursued.

She taunted. He closed in.

It wasn’t fair–her legs were shorter, she was barefoot, giggling like a fucking stormcloud in lingerie.

But she was fast.

And he was faster,

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He caught her halfway into the master bedroom–one arm around her waist, spinning her into the wall so fast it knocked the breath from both of them.

Her back hit hard.

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