8. Adriana
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Adriana
He carries me through the door.
The bedroom is dark except for the city lights bleeding through the windows, all those glittering buildings turning everything silver and shadow.
I can barely see his face, but I can feel him everywhere.
His hands on my thighs. His chest against mine.
His breath coming fast and ragged, matching my own.
He lays me down on the bed like I’m something precious. Something that might break. The mattress dips as he follows me down, his body hovering over mine, close but not quite touching.
He searches my eyes for a moment, like he’s giving me room to change my mind. I reach up and touch his face, feel the stubble rough against my palm, and that’s all the answer he needs. He exhales slowly and lowers his mouth to mine.
This kiss is different from the ones before. Slower. Deeper. Like he has all the time in the world and he intends to use every second of it. His hand slides up my side, over the curve of my hip, the dip of my waist. I arch into his touch without meaning to.
He pulls back just enough to look at me. “Take it off.”
My fingers find the zipper at my side. It catches for a moment, then slides free. He helps me work the fabric over my hips, down my legs, tossing it somewhere on the floor. I’m left in nothing but my underwear, suddenly very aware of how exposed I am.
He sits back on his heels, looking at me. Just looking. The city lights catch his face and I can see his expression now. Hunger. Want. Something almost like reverence.
“You’re beautiful,” he says. “You know that?”
No one has ever looked at me the way he’s looking at me right now. Like I’m the only thing in the world worth seeing.
“Enzo.” My voice comes out shaky. “I need to tell you something.”
He goes still. Waiting.
I take a breath. This is the part where he laughs, or pulls away, or looks at me with pity. This is the part where everything falls apart.
“I’ve never done this before.”
Silence. Then: “What?”
“I’m a virgin.” The word feels strange in my mouth. Outdated. Embarrassing. “Rafael and I, we never… he never…”
I trail off, not sure how to explain seven months of marriage without consummation. Not sure how to explain that I was waiting for something that was never going to happen.
Enzo is very quiet. I can’t read his expression in the dim light.
“You were married for seven months,” he says finally. “And he never touched you?”
“He said he was waiting. Until I was ready. I thought he was being patient, but now I think…” I swallow hard. “I think he just didn’t want me. Not like that.”
“That brother of mine is a bigger idiot than I thought.”
The words come out rough, almost angry. But not at me. At Rafael.
“How could he have you for seven months and not take you in his arms every single night?” Enzo’s hand finds my hip, his thumb tracing slow circles on my skin. “Is he incompetent or just blind?”
I let out a shaky laugh. “Apparently neither. He managed just fine with Viviana.”
“Then he has horrible taste.”
He leans down and presses his mouth to my collarbone. I gasp at the contact, at the heat of his lips on my skin.
“Enzo…”
“Do you want me to stop?”
“No.” The word comes out too fast, too desperate. I don’t care. “No, don’t stop.”
He doesn’t stop.
His hands skim down my sides, and I reach for his shirt buttons and start popping them open one by one, slower this time so I can feel every inch of fabric give way.
The shirt parts and I push it off his shoulders, my palms sliding over warm skin.
His chest is all hard lines and flat stomach, abs cut sharp under my fingers.
I trace them without thinking, and he leans in to kiss me full on the mouth, deep and unhurried, his tongue brushing mine until I forget what I’m doing for a second.
“You good?” he asks, voice low against my lips.
“Yeah. Keep going.”
He kisses me again, slower still, one hand cupping the back of my neck while the other unhooks my bra.
It drops away and his mouth moves down, lips closing over one nipple, sucking gently until it tightens.
His tongue swirls around the peak before he moves to the other breast, repeating the slow pull and lick that makes my back arch.
I tug at his belt, get it loose, and shove his pants and boxers down together.
His cock springs free, thick and already hard.
I stare, wrap my fingers around it, and give one slow stroke.
He hisses through his teeth and pulls me into another kiss, his tongue sliding against mine as we tumble onto the bed.
My back hits the sheets. He hooks his fingers in my panties and slides them down my legs, but instead of rushing he follows the fabric with his mouth.
He kisses a trail from my stomach lower, lips brushing over my navel, then lower still until he reaches the top of my mound.
His breath fans hot against my skin as he presses open-mouthed kisses along my inner thighs, first one side then the other, getting closer to my pussy without touching it yet.
I feel exposed and shaky, but his hands stay steady on my hips.
He looks up once, checking my face. “Still good?”
I nod, breathing fast. He lowers his head again and kisses right over my pussy, soft at first, then his tongue parts my folds and drags slowly from bottom to top.
The wet heat makes me gasp. He does it again, circling my clit with the tip of his tongue before sucking gently on it.
My hips jerk and he holds me down lightly, licking and sucking in a steady rhythm that has me dripping.
He adds a finger, sliding it inside while his mouth stays busy on my clit, then two fingers, stretching me with careful strokes as his tongue keeps flicking.
I moan into the dark room, one hand in his hair.
He keeps going until my thighs tremble, then kisses back up my body, pressing his lips to my stomach, my ribs, each breast again, my neck, and finally my mouth so I can taste myself on his tongue.
Cool air hits my skin. He settles between my thighs and rubs the head of his cock against me, spreading wetness, but he doesn’t push in yet.
Instead he kisses me again, long and deep, while his fingers trace lower.
One slips inside me, then two, working me open with steady strokes.
I gasp into his mouth as he curls them, hitting that spot that makes my hips lift.
He adds a third after a minute, stretching me wider while his thumb circles my clit.
The burn mixes with heat that builds fast. I rock against his hand, getting wetter, and he watches my face the whole time, kissing my jaw, my neck, my lips whenever I moan.
“You’re doing fine,” he murmurs against my mouth. “Just relax for me.”
I nod, breathing harder. He pulls his fingers out and reaches for the nightstand.
The foil packet crinkles as he tears it open.
He rolls the condom down his cock in one smooth motion, then lines up again, but first he kisses me more, soft presses to my forehead and cheeks that calm the nerves fluttering in my chest. The pressure starts as he pushes in.
It burns at first, stretching me open. I suck in a breath and grip his arms. He stops halfway, waits, kissing my temple, then rocks forward a little more.
Pain flares sharp and quick. I bite my lip.
“Breathe,” he says. “You’re doing fine.”
He pulls back and pushes again, deeper this time, all the while pressing kisses to my jaw and lips.
My body gives way inch by inch until he’s all the way inside.
Full. Strange. He stays still, forehead against mine, letting me adjust, kissing me softly between breaths.
His hand stays on my hip, thumb stroking slow circles.
“Move,” I tell him after a minute. The ache starts to fade into something else.
He pulls out and slides back in, steady and careful, kissing me between every thrust. Each one rubs against that spot that makes my hips twitch.
I wrap my legs around him. Heat builds low in my belly.
He keeps the pace even, checking my face every few strokes, adding a grind of his hips that drags over my clit.
I get louder without meaning to, and he answers with a low groan, his mouth finding mine again and again.
“Faster,” I say when the feeling tightens.
He gives me what I ask for, building the pace gradually.
Skin slaps skin. My pussy clenches around his cock.
Pleasure spikes sudden and hot. I come with a choked sound, thighs shaking.
He follows right after, groaning as he spills inside the condom.
His weight settles heavy for a moment before he shifts to the side, pulling me close and kissing my hair while we both catch our breath.
We just lie there tangled together, breathing hard, hearts pounding. His arm is heavy across me, his chest warm against my back. It should feel like too much, like I want space. Instead it feels grounding. Real.
His hand strokes through my hair, slow and rhythmic.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yes.” I press my face into his shoulder, hiding my smile. “More than okay.”
“Good.”
Silence settles over us. Comfortable. Easy. I can feel his heartbeat under my cheek, still faster than normal but slowing now.
“Enzo?”
“Hm?”
“Thank you.”
He laughs, low and soft. “That’s not usually what people say after.”
“I mean it.” I lift my head to look at him. “Thank you for being… for making it…”
I don’t know how to finish. How do you thank someone for being gentle when they could have been rough? For making you feel wanted when you’ve spent your whole life feeling like an afterthought?
But he seems to understand. He always seems to understand.
“You don’t have to thank me.” He tucks a strand of hair behind my ear. “But you’re welcome.”
We lie there in the quiet dark, the city lights still bleeding through the windows, turning everything silver and strange. I should be thinking about everything that happened today. The betrayal. The heartbreak. The way my whole life fell apart in a matter of hours.
But I’m not. I’m thinking about the man beside me, his warmth seeping into my skin, his hand still moving through my hair. I’m thinking about how this morning I was planning to give myself to Rafael, and tonight I gave myself to his brother instead.
It should feel wrong. It should feel like revenge, like spite, like a decision made in anger.
It doesn’t.
It feels like the first right thing I’ve done in a very long time.
“Stay here.” Enzo’s voice cuts through my thoughts. Low and rough, not quite a question.
“What?”
“Tonight. Stay here.” His arm tightens around me. “In this bed. With me.”
I should say no. I should go back to waiting for Amelia, go back to figuring out my life, go back to being sensible and careful and all the things I’ve always been.
“Okay,” I say instead. “I’ll stay.”
He presses a kiss to the top of my head. “Good.”
I close my eyes. His heartbeat is steady under my cheek, a rhythm I could learn to depend on. Outside, the city goes on without us, all those millions of lives spinning in their separate orbits.
But in here, in this room, in this bed, there’s only the two of us. Only the warmth of his body and the weight of his arm and the impossible, terrifying feeling that I might have just found something worth keeping.
I fall asleep before I can decide if that scares me or not.