Chapter 22
Chapter Twenty-Two
KENNEDY
Moonlight slices through the gloom and darkness, casting a silver path that Enzo follows with unnerving ease.
The man moves like a panther, silent and assured, and his presence is instant. It fills the room to the point I’m suffocating.
I turn under the covers and curl on my side, cocooning myself against everything that’s wrong between us. The last thing I want is to see his face, to feel his touch. Plus, if he catches sight of my tears, he’ll know something’s off.
I’m breaking, and I can’t let it show.
He slides under the sheets, and two big, warm arms wrap around me. My body shivers involuntarily, and his grip tightens in response, pulling me closer.
I bite my lip, struggling to hold back the sob that’s clawing its way up my throat. But the tears are relentless, brimming at all my tattered edges.
“Hey,” he murmurs against my hair, pressing a tender kiss to it. “What’s wrong? Whatever it is that’s making you cry, I swear I’ll kill it with my bare hands. ”
I turn to face him in total disbelief. For a fleeting second, I actually picture him strangling himself until he’s blue in the face and unconscious on the floor.
Then, my eyes meet his, and oh, God. In the dim light, I search his dark golden gaze, desperate to find something to despise. Instead, I feel myself unraveling, my carefully constructed resolve dissolving to mush.
Warm fingers brush the tears from my cheeks and tuck the stray strands of hair behind my ear. “Want to talk about it?” His voice is a deep rumble, a lure. A trap I’ll fall into if I’m not careful, because no matter how much I want to hate him, I can’t.
Tenderness is my kryptonite. I don’t know how to fight that. Why does he have to be this? Warm and comforting.
You’re an asshole. Fucking act like it, okay?
“No,” I whisper, hating myself for how much truth is in that single word.
He keeps his arms around me, caressing my back, laying soft kisses along my cheeks and neck. “I need to make you feel better.”
He moves so slowly that my body responds instinctively, all defenses down. I try to fight it—the need to follow his lead as every touch ignites a response.
“So tense,” he whispers. “Did you like the beach?” he asks, his lips brushing against my heart-shaped freckle. Goose bumps erupt in its wake, sending shivers across my skin.
“What?” I ask, caught off guard.
“The beach. You went there today. It’s a private stretch of land we own. Did you like it?”
Fuck. Of course, he’s watching me. He’s always watching.
Does he know about my texts with Agent Knox? Does he know that I know he’s handing me to his uncle? Naked on a silver fucking platter?
I’m stunned, and the anger bubbles up. “No. I didn’t much care for it, actually. I’d much prefer”—I think of the one I saw on a postcard in the market that flew to the top of my bucket list—“Elafonisi Beach.”
“Elafonisi?” he murmurs against my breast. “Where is that?” he asks, his kisses trailing down my stomach.
He’s going to go down on me. Fuck . I mentally brace myself, knowing I have to let him do this if I want to get us all out of this. Me, Riley, the girls, and Truffles.
But when it comes to my feelings, not the ones between my legs but the ones in my heart, where the fuck is the off switch?
And it’s not like my body has an issue with it. It responds instinctively, my back arching to his touch, my legs parting as his rough stubble grazes my skin. His hot tongue?—
“Crete,” I blurt out. Stay in control. Stay. In. Control.
“Greece,” he growls into my core, letting the word vibrate through me before chasing it with a smooth, long lick. “What’s so special about Elafonisi Beach?”
By this point, I’m riding his face, both hands tangled in his hair. And why the hell not? Men have always taken from me. Maybe this is me taking something from him. Yes. Absolutely. Fuck him, for once.
“It’s”—I moan—“the sand.” God, this feels so good. “It’s pink,” I cry.
I come in a rush, panting and heaving as he finishes me off like the last bit of chocolate syrup when a sundae is done.
He makes his way back up my body, kissing me slow and deep. “Pink sand?” he murmurs against my lips, still nibbling as he lines himself up at my entrance. “Say the word, Bella , and I’ll give you anything you want.”
I want this ache in my heart to stop.
I want you out of my life.
I want to feel nothing for you but hate.
I want to be free.
A tidal wave of tears threatens to spill over, and I can’t let him see them. So, I hold his body close. So close. And I tell him the one thing I want—and the one thing I hate myself for most.
“I want you to fuck me, Mr. D’Angelo.”