Chapter Twenty-Five
LOLA
Enzo lowers the lamps in the room, and then he goes into the ensuite. After a while, running water captures my attention.
I get up and go in, the floor a nice temperature under my feet.
"What are you doing? And is the floor heated? I've been on heated floors that turn on in winter, but this isn't that..."
He has stripped down to his jeans, and the broadness of his back and the way his muscles move capture my attention, not to mention my lust.
I really am a completely insane person.
One minute, I'm frightened he'll do something to Luke or get wildly furious at me, the next, I'm mad at him for not seeing what I'm saying. Then I'm on the edge of tears because, after everything, he still stayed. And now I'm lusting after him.
"The floors are smart, they make the tiles the perfect temperature to walk on, no matter what time of year. And what does it look like I'm doing?" He pours some salts into the bath, and a soft scent that's clean like linen on a line in the country wafts to me.
"I can see you're running a bath. Why?"
"For you."
"Did I say I wanted one?"
He goes still. "No... If you don't want one, I'll let the water out. It's up to you."
And with that, he rises, lets it fill to a certain point, and then he walks out.
I stare after him, unsure what to do.
Did he...?
But...
I shake my head. "Fuck. Good one, Lola."
The water looks good, though, and I don't want to waste it.
Scented steam rises, and I dip my fingers into the water.
"Oh, my God...it's perfect."
I turn, though, and take a few steps, ready to go after him.
I falter at the door.
I want him to stay. I want to be held. It might all be a clash of intents in me, but it's what I want.
And in a way, asking him to stay is me saying the things I can't voice.
I want him. That hasn't changed. That isn't even the problem.
It never has been since this started, since he walked in as my boss at Barwon.
But while I haven't forgiven him, it doesn't mean I'm holding a grudge. I just...can't.
Not completely.
And part of me trying to get past it is due to being pregnant, I guess, and wanting to make it work. But it's not that big a part.
I know that if I can't work this out, I have to walk when this is done. He'll still be in my life if he lets me go. And I think he knows he has to.
It feels different, this talk. Like he sees what's on the line. What he has to lose.
No. I'd like to make it work, but it'll take time and me working through it. Sometimes, him in my bed, sometimes not.
That's when it hits me in the face.
He left to give me space.
He ran the bath to show me he cares.
And he left for the same reasons.
I know Enzo well enough that his kink and fantasies extend to a bath, to bathing me, to being in here. And he's a guy, I think he'd find it hot.
But he's giving me space, letting me know the bath isn't for him to enjoy with me in it. It's just for me.
And I hug that close.
I strip down and climb into the bath, sighing as the water envelops me.
There is soap and a loofah and a sponge, but I sit for the longest time, drifting, letting the water take me over.
Then I finally wash myself and climb out.
I dry off, letting out the water and wrapping myself in a towel.
I push open the door and step out of the ensuite. "Thanks, Enzo."
But I'm alone.
My heart, that treacherous thing, plummets. I go to the door, opening it.
"Enzo?"
He appears in the hall, from his suite. "Want to stay the night in there, or come in here with me?"
"I—"
"That fucking came out wrong. I meant that you asked me to stay, to hold you, I'm assuming, and I'm offering that. I'll hold you."
I go to him, pushing him into his room, dropping the towel, and rising on my toes to kiss him.
He takes my shoulders and ends the kiss. "Lola, we don't have to. You don't have to."
"I want to."
"Not after everything you said. The ball is in your court, I guess. What I fucking mean is..." He swings me into his arms and carries me to the bed, laying me down carefully.
Enzo strips off his jeans and pulls the covers up over me, then lies on top of them next to me in his boxers.
But not before I see his hard-on.
The move of him on top and me under the covers makes my eyes blur and my heart squeeze tight.
Treacherous.
Every damn inch of me.
"What I mean is the court is yours. You get to serve. We only do what you want. Sleep, me on the sofa, whatever, and I'm good with it. I want to show you I can be the man you want, Lola."
I turn and touch his cheek. "That's the big problem. You are the man I want. And that makes things difficult. Because it would be too easy to fall into things with you, pretend everything was fine, even if it wasn't. But—"
"That shit blows up in your face at some point. Believe me, I get it."
I take a shuddering breath. "I don't think you do. I want to move on. I don't want anything coming between us anymore. I want to be ready."
"But the slate?"
"It's still there. But each day where things are honest makes it cleaner. I'm ready to try to work through it. Talking things through is helping me reach forgiveness."
He kisses me softly. "You're not there yet. Sure, the talk helped. But we're not there."
"We moved a lot closer to that. I haven't gotten to the point where I can have it blank, but I think I see what you were saying to me. And I do forgive you."
"The past? What about that?"
I think what little resentment remains crumbles more with his words, with him trying to change my mind, talk me down from emotions.
I love him more for it, I think.
Love?
Hell...I put the word on ice to examine later.
"How about this?" I ask. "Let's try and put the past where it belongs. In the past."
He kisses me again. "Deal."
This time, I throw off the covers and press up against him, naked, so I can feel the heat of his skin seep into me.
I wrap my arms around his neck and kiss him again, mouth open, tongue seeking his.
There is fire in the kiss, and he's not holding back as he pulls me into him, his erection pressing into me, making me wet, making me ache.
There's fire, but it's just there, contained, and the kiss remains soft and intimate and different from the other ones. It's real, it's us. There aren't any games or lies between us. Just two people who are into each other.
It's naked, frightening, delicious. And I'm insanely turned on.
He kisses me lightly now, sucking my lip into his mouth, teeth gently biting down in a way that feels way too good, sending the tendrils of want and aching need spiraling down to my pussy.
I moan, and he lets go of my lip, sliding his along my chin, my cheek, and then nibbles a soft path down my throat, then he licks up to my ear.
"What do you want, sweet Lola? I can stop, we can go on, we can kiss or just cuddle or sleep. It's up to you."
There's a part of me that appreciates the ball in my court, as he puts it.
But I both want to give it to him for him to have the control, and I just want to greedily hold it.
But then I realize I don't need to make a decision. "We can just let what happens happen."
"Your safe word, it can apply to anything here, okay? Say it, and we'll stop. Ask me to hold you until you sleep, and I will. Or you can just sleep. You—"
"Let's just see. I know I have my safe word. And I know I can say no if we're not in play."
I kiss him once again.
"Do you know how hard it is not to wrap you tight? Now I know..." He swallows as his eyes get too shiny. "Now I know."
He touches me, tenderly running his fingers over my stomach. Like I'm showing.
I look down. It looks slightly rounded. But honestly, I don't think I'm showing yet. I'm probably bloated or something.
But there's delight in his touch, so I don't correct him when he says, "This...this is amazing. When does he kick?"
"I think it's just cells and a teeny tiny thing that doesn't look human right now. And...Lyndall says it's a girl."
"When?"
"When I took the test."
The hurt in his tone eases. "That's ridiculous. He's a boy. Big, strong, handsome."
"I think it looks like a tiny alien. Or splitting cells. I don't know much about this."
"Neither do I."
"It's why I want to see the doctor."
He nods, tracing patterns on my stomach. "I made a baby."
I want to laugh. Or maybe cry. I'm not sure which. Just like I have no idea if it'd be out of sadness, happiness, or just plain old hormones.
His touching me with such reverence is a delight.
Though it might be a sign of what's to come. Enzo with an iron grip. His issues of control.
I get that control attracts me, turns me on, leads me down the path of such carnal deliciousness it's hard to think straight, but...
But what?
Did I actually think he'd be a laid-back man when it came to kids? His kid?
He's Italian. Mafia. Control and protection of family are in his blood.
And I do want to get past the nagging doubt that remains. Just like I mean what I said about forgiving him and being ready to go forward with him.
I want that. I can do that.
I don't resent him. I can see why he did everything.
Perhaps it's unfair to expect him to have done things differently.
I know how a split-second decision can change things, like me asking Lyndall to leave with me when I panicked, and she got kidnapped.
Something tiny and seemingly insignificant can snowball into something huge.
Lyndall kept the test and threw it out, possibly because she'd planned on handing the bag to one of the guards to get rid of it, and that led to all of this.
Just like I'd planned to tell him after I went to see the doctor, but that never happened, and I hurt this man who's now speaking close to my tummy.
"...anyway, kid, don't worry, we can go to the gym. I'll teach you to shoot, hack, hunt, fish—though those last two I'll have to learn. Your mom's pretty, and she's cool—"
"Idiot."
He ignores me and keeps speaking, and a small sob escapes me.
He's going to be a wonderful father. And I've got all the evidence I need whenever I talk to Lyndall.