Lola
The steam clung to her skin like a second, slicked–on layer.
Her body still pulsed–thighs weak, heartbeat irregular, lungs refusing to settle into anything that didn’t sound like a sex dream sigh. Every nerve ending sparkled with leftover bliss, like Enzo had fucked the sun into her bloodstream.
God.
She could still feel him.
Droplets rolling down her back as she pressed her forehead to the cool tile and tried to catch her breath. Enzo was behind her, forehead resting between her shoulder blades, both of them wrecked and warm and standing in the wreckage of whatever the hell that was.
“I think you just ruined me for anyone else,” she murmured.
Enzo let out a breathy laugh against her skin. “That was the plan.”
A few minutes later, she was towel–drying her hair in the bedroom, watching him tug on a pair of black slacks, bare chest still damp, belt buckle catching the light. Sharp and sinful.
And hers.
She didn’t say a word as she walked over, slow and lazy. Just knelt back on the bed and let her towel slip to her waist.
Enzo stood by the dresser in slacks and nothing else, slicked–back hair dripping like he’d just walked out of a goddamn cologne ad. Like he hadn’t just choked her through an orgasm that nearly short–circuited her soul.
But that wasn’t enough.
Not yet.
“Baby,” she called, voice sugar–laced and dangerous.
He turned instantly, his gaze sharp as ever–but it dipped the moment he saw her stretched out across the bed like a weaponized invitation.
“I need you to mark me,” she said softly, trailing a finger high along the inside of her thigh—just shy of the place that still ached for him. “Here.”
His whole body tensed. She saw the second his jaw locked.
“In case anyone gets… too close,” she added, voice breathy. “You know how Kevin flirts.”
He didn’t say a word.
Didn’t have to.
He was on her in seconds, hands gripping her thighs and yanking her open, mouth latching onto that soft skin like she’d just declared war.
The suction made her gasp.
Then whimper.
Then melt.
1/3
5:56 pm P P
Chapter 66
He pulled back just enough to meet her eyes. “You don’t get to walk around tempting people like that, Lola.”
“I wasn’t tempting anyone,” she lied sweetly. “Just making sure they know I’m taken.”
He bit her again–just beside the first bruise, deeper this time. Darker.
She hissed, toes curling.
As his head dipped to kiss her inner thigh once more, Lola’s fingers moved with calculated ease–reaching toward her phone on the nightstand. She lifted it slow, angled it just right from above: her flushed, naked body glowing in the sunrise light, red hair a wild halo, legs parted, and his head between them.
His face hidden.
Intent obvious.
She smiled down at the image, satisfaction blooming in her chest.
This was going straight to his phone later. A reminder. A thank–you. A threat.
All rolled into one.
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