Chapter 17
Chapter Seventeen
KENNEDY
The doorknob jiggles again, more insistently this time. Whoever’s on the other side clearly isn’t giving up.
“Enzo,” the little voice sings, a melody I know well. A signature blend of ceaseless energy and relentless tenacity bestowed in spades to kids under ten.
Especially when all you want are a few minutes of peace to think, eat, or pee.
“Is that a child?” I whisper.
“Yes,” he murmurs, dropping his forehead to mine. “Who knew tiny humans could be the biggest dick deflators of the year.”
“ Tsk, tsk, tsk . The King of Chicago running from a child?” I tease, unable to contain a giggle as I shake my head.
The handle jiggles harder. “ Shh .” He deadpans and presses a finger to his lips. “If you stop moving those delicious lips of yours, maybe they’ll go away,” he whispers.
“They?” I ask so loud, a succession of little knocks pound on the door like a drum circle.
“We know you’re in there,” another voice says, unimpressed. This one sounds older and more confident.
“Your new boss?” I ask giggling.
His nostrils flare as he lowers me back to the floor, his voice steady despite the frantic jiggling of the door handle.
“It’s a long story,” he rushes through. “They’ve been through hell. Their parents are gone, and they’ve got nowhere to go...” His voice trails off, heavy with sadness.
“What are their names?” I ask softly, my heart going out to them, still stunned and filled with empathy.
“The older one is Sofia,” he replies gently, pocketing a hand. “The younger one is called Lili, short for Eliana.”
And he’s taking them in. I melt like butter over toast. “It’s good of you to keep them,” I say softly, rubbing his hand.
“Temporarily,” he asserts firmly, his fingers intertwining with mine. “Until Father Marc can make other arrangements.”
“So, they’re at Camp Week-o’-Enzo, too?” I quip lightly.
“Hopefully less,” he grumbles.
“Harsh.” I shove him aside and open the door, eager to meet them.
I throw on my sweatshirt and swing open the doors. Two cherubs with big eyes and long black hair blow past me, each latching on to one of Enzo’s hands.
“I don’t want to play hide and seek anymore,” the youngest one complains, tugging at his hand for attention. “Play with us.”
I glance up at his face and stifle a laugh. With one botched escape plan and all exits chopped off, his expression resembles a doberman trying to figure out quantum physics.
Then, his eyes lock onto mine. He mouths, “Help me.” With two kids shackled to his sides, it’s more a command than a plea.
I kneel before them. Like Enzo, they both look like they just washed up, and their little dresses look brand new. I smile wide. “I’m Kennedy. How about I make us something to eat?”
“What?” Enzo asks, alarmed.
“Pizza?” Lili chirps.
“And what about you?” I ask Sofia cautiously. Her eyes, dark and hollow, remind me of a time long ago when I saw the same look in the mirror. She’s present, but not ready to fully engage just yet. “Do you like pizza too?”
She gives a silent shrug. A small response, but it’s something.
“My puppy likes pizza,” I say, hoping to lure them in. “Well, he likes the bread and cheese.”
I leave out the part about how the sauce gives him next-level gas. Seriously, the dog nearly killed me.
Sofia’s expression softens, curiosity flickering in her eyes. “What’s her name?”
“Truffles,” I reply with a smile. “But he’s a boy.”
Sofia looks up at Enzo, confusion etched on her face. “She named a boy dog Truffles?” she asks, childlike and unfiltered, as if I’m not a foot from her face.
“I know, right?” Enzo says, chuckling.
A pang of longing fills the empty space in my heart. I want this—the everyday happiness that comes with sassy kids and a strong, protective man.
I blink away the fantasy and quickly add, “And after we eat, you can both play with him as much as you want. He’s the sweetest little guy. ”
Finally, a hint of a smile tugs at Sofia’s lips, a small victory that feels monumental.
Lili hops on both feet like I’ve just offered her a ride to the moon. I extend my hands to both girls, partly to pry them away from Enzo. “Ready?”
Both little faces frown, their hands clinging to Enzo as if he might float away if they let go.
His shoulders slump, and he lets out a sigh of defeat. “Fine. I’ll have lunch with you. It’s not as if I can trust any of you in the kitchen.” His eyes lock onto mine, a mix of exasperation and amusement. “Especially you.”
We all head out of the gym, and Sofia and Lili freeze the second they look down the hall, their eyes wide, their breaths held in.
Ruff-ruff!
Both girls’ faces light up with pure delight as Truffles appears, front and center, as if delivered by Amazon. They squeal with excitement, their eyes sparkling with joy, and race toward him.
Enzo seizes the moment, grabbing my arm and pulling me close, his hot breath grazing my ear. “We still have unfinished business, Bella . And I’m taking care of it.”
“When?”
“Tonight.”
After stuffing ourselves with pizza and an assortment of cookies, Enzo watches as I teach Sofia and Lili a flurry of dance moves. The girls twirl and giggle, their faces lit with pure joy, their laughter echoing clear down the hall.
Enzo leans against the wall, arms crossed, a small, almost imperceptible smile playing on his lips as he watches us. Or rather, watches me.
I guide the girls through a few moves, my usual method to gauge a little dancer’s potential and see if they’ve had some training. Then I join Enzo and watch with delight.
Sofia moves with stunning grace, her dark hair cascading like a dancer’s veil, her steps infused with a melancholy exuberance. Every motion she makes is a blend of elegance and a quiet sorrow.
Lili, on the other hand, is a whirlwind of energy, her boundless enthusiasm radiating with every step. She mirrors each move her sister makes, infusing them with her unique flair, her curls bouncing wildly in sync with her exuberance.
“They’re naturals,” I remark, captivated by how effortlessly they execute each move. “Dance was always my escape. My safe space.”
I sense Enzo’s gaze before I meet his eyes. His golden eyes warm with barely a smile, sending a rush of warmth through me. “And now, you’ve given them a safe space.”
In this moment of soft words and tender emotions, my heart swells with feelings for this man. Despite the thick sweatshirt and jeans I threw on before lunch, a shiver runs through me the instant his fingers brush mine.
By early evening, we retreat to an extravagant home theater I didn’t even known existed, concealed in the lower level. Sheesh , how big is this place ?
“We all need a safe space,” Enzo says. And I suppose he’s right. Enzo, his family, his team—they’ve carved out these pockets of sanctuary, ensuring safety when they’re most vulnerable.
I feel closer to him. As trapped as I’ve felt, it’s as if his entire existence is confined within one immense cage, squeezing tightly around his broad shoulders, leaving me wondering how he breathes through it all.
The plush seats and state-of-the-art sound system are definite perks, but it’s the movie—an animated classic not yet in theaters—that seals the deal.
As the opening credits roll, the girls snuggle in under plush blankets, their eyes wide as they fight a flurry of yawns.
Truffles curls up at their feet, his tail thumping lazily.
Surprisingly, Enzo takes his place in the middle, his broad frame occupying more space than seems fair, creating a comforting barrier around him.
Sofia’s eyelids flutter, Lili’s head nods forward, and Truffles stretches out, surrendering to sleep. Even Enzo seems more relaxed than I’ve ever seen him, even with them all sticking to him like refrigerator magnets.
“I’ll be back,” I whisper, tiptoeing out of the room. I need to grab my phone and snap about a hundred shots of this. I’m in my room for only a moment when I see no less than a dozen calls from the ever-annoying Agent Knox.
“Everything alright?” Enzo’s voice rumbles through the room, startling me. I quickly shove my phone into my bag. I don’t want the epitome of a possessive Alpha male to know I’m being agitated by a Fed. Who knows what would happen?
I turn around, and my mouth falls open.
Here he is, Enzo Ares D’Angelo, displayed in all his magnificent glory like a tempting, unwrapped Christmas gift. His shirt hangs open and untucked, revealing a tantalizing trail of dark hair that leads down, down, down.
With his belt discarded, the dark band of his briefs peeking out, just one provocative glimpse has my pulse racing.
“Alright?” Hell yeah, it is. I swallow hard. “Everything’s fine.”
“You sure?” His warm hands cradle my cheeks, and I inhale deeply, his intoxicating scent enveloping me in a dizzying swirl. “You look flushed.”
“Just”—S tunned stupid? Horny? —“wondering how you escaped being sandwiched.”
“I tucked pillows against them. Trinity used to cling to me like superglue, too.” He runs a hand through his tousled hair, a small smile playing at the corner of his lips. “There are three more movies in the queue, and Dory is keeping an eye on them.”
“Oh?”
He shuts the door. The click of the lock sends heat licking up my neck.
Enzo strips off his shirt completely, and it’s the first time I’ve seen him without one—though I’m not exactly sure how that’s possible.
My eyes trace the contours of his body, each line more surreal than the last: olive skin draped over a powerful chest, tight nipples, and abs carved from stone.
“Say it, Bella .” God, the growl of his voice.
I lick my lips. “Say what?”
“What you said the other night.” He unzips, deliberately slow. “When you begged.” He pushes his slacks to the floor, leaving him in nothing but a dark pair of briefs that only emphasize his size.
And up close and personal, the man is big.
His breath becomes rhythmic, his chest rising and falling, his nose flaring. “Say it.” These words aren’t just a demand. They’re rough, yes—pure seduction wrapped in ironclad control.
But the second I do, I know there’s no going back.
And then what? I wake up, and the beautiful dream is over?
When he removes the last of it—his boxers—and his cock springs free, I can’t think.
My gaze is drawn down, the meaty girth of him, the weight of his balls. If I ever thought this man was gorgeous, I was wrong.
Enzo is a masterpiece.
Heat floods my system, lips quivering as I blink away a fog of doubt and sanity, until there’s nothing before me but him.
He steps in front of me, invading my space like a roman soldier. Pressing into my belly. Fear and anticipation flutter in my gut and I clench.
With one finger, he tilts my face up, his lips brushing against mine like a whisper. “Say it,” he murmurs, as my eyes flutter shut.
And I do. “Please,” I whisper back, the word slipping out like a desperate prayer. “Please, fuck me, Mr. D’Angelo.”
With a hand at my neck, he kisses me, and it’s nothing like I imagined. It’s soft, tender, his tongue licking and exploring with a sensual precision that makes my knees give. Have I mentioned the man can kiss? The man. Can. Kiss.
He takes my hand and guides it to stroke his length. Jesus H., my fingers barely fit around it. It’s like that moment when you eye a massive burger, wondering if it’ll actually fit in your mouth...
With one more deep, mesmerizing kiss, his lips trail down my neck as he peels off my clothes, one by one. He lowers himself to his knees, and soon he’s eating me out so good that I can barely stand.
I grab his hair. “Enzo, I?—”
Two fingers invade me, forcing their way in and out, but he doesn’t let up. That lethal tongue of his—licking, sucking, circling my clit until there’s nothing stopping this runaway train. The orgasm is building so fast, the impulse to grind his face comes without warning.
Rough stubble, his slick, wet tongue, one, more, finger, and— “Oh, God!”
With one more hard suck of my clit, I see stars.
To the point that, I don’t know how, but the next thing I know, my back hits the cold wall. His teeth graze my neck, his hands grip my ass, and the thick tip of him glides just past my entrance.
We’re both panting, sheened in sweat, when before I can think or speak, and he’s in, stretching me, pulling out, pushing in...
Thrusting . . .
Thrusting . . .
Thrusting . . .
And God . This man owns me. All of me.
“So fucking tight, Bella ,” he hisses through his teeth, pushing, shoving his way in with each breath, deeper and deeper.
My back arches, rocking with him in a painfully delicious rhythm. Each thrust drives in, giving me breath, until I’m screaming his name. “Enzo!”
The orgasm slams through me, a riptide of pain and pleasure tearing me apart so intensely that I’m crying out, laughing deliriously, utterly drunk on sex.
“I can’t hold back,” he grunts, fucking me so fast and so hard, I have to spread my thighs wide—wider—“That’s it, Bella . Take it all, good girl. Take. It. All. Fuck! ”
The way he slams into me, nips my neck, cups my breast, and forces me to take him so deep, I’m not sure the wall will hold up. Or me.
And then I feel it—heat filling me up—as his body rocks and trembles hard, emptying everything he has. Long, deep thrusts push us both to the edge and beyond. “ Shit ,” he groans, a raw intensity in his voice.
His head drops to my shoulder.
“What?” I whisper, laying kisses on his muscles and neck, my fingers tangling through his damp hair.
“I couldn’t stop—I—” He blows out an angry breath, shaking his head. “No condom. It isn’t like me.”
I pant through a breathless laugh. “Really? Because there’s an entire fan page dedicated to you that claims bareback is the only way you ride.”
His full lips twist into a grin. “Now who’s the stalker?”
Definitely me. Fangirl, too.
“I’m clean. I’ve never been without a condom, Kennedy. With anyone. I swear.” His voice is earnest, eyes locked onto mine, with so much sincerity, my heart skips a beat.
I’m not sure which surprises me more: his confession or his need to tell me, especially since I can still feel him pulse deep inside me.
“I’m on the pill,” I say, as if that somehow makes it better. Me, not thinking at all about how many women he’s been with. “So no baby D’Angelos anytime soon.”
He frowns, then kisses me. “I know.”
What? “How?” How would he know I’m on the pill?
He kisses my shoulder and neck, then trails his lips to my heart-shaped freckle. “I know everything about you, Bella . Your bra size. Your preferred speed of vibrator. That you have some really weird kinks.”
“What?” Kinks? The lies.
“You and your werewolf porn.”
I straighten my back, indignation flaring. “It’s not porn.”
He smirks, kissing me again. “I read chapter three.” Another kiss, deeper this time. “Definitely porn.”
I feel the length of him growing harder as his tongue lazily licks in and out. My body trembles, and I’m not sure I can handle round two, but I doubt either of us has the self-control to stop.
“What else do you know about me?” I whisper against his mouth.
His eyes darken, and he fists my hair. “That the next time you come, it’ll be on your knees.”