Page 75 of Enzo

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll go up now,” he said through another yawn, pushing himself to his feet. He stretched again, rolling his shoulders, and for a brief second, his hoodie rode up further, exposing more ink, more skin.

“Night, Robbie,” he murmured, voice soft as he turned to leave.

I stood there, gripping my glass, watching him go, but something made me call his name, to stop him. “Enzo?”

He turned to me, his brows lifting. “Yeah?”

I hesitated, then rounded the table, placing the glass down with a soft clink. I ended up standing maybe two feet from him, the air between us charged with something I couldn’t define. “Do you worry about me with working on the car on Sunday? Am I being stupid thinking I can do it?”

His expression shuttered for a second, and I hated that—I hated that my doubt made him hesitate. Then before I could take it back, he closed the gap between us.

I didn’t step away. This was Enzo.

His hands found my upper arms, a gentle, steadying grip. His touch was warm and grounding. I shivered as his fingers tightened for a moment, a silent reassurance. My body betrayed me, a low heat curling in my stomach, the ache of something I didn’t understand. I was half-hard, needing something from him that I didn’t know how to ask for. Enzo closed that last bit of space.

“You’re the best person in this garage,” he said, voice low, the words curling around me. “The way you handled the wiring last week, the way you try so damn hard every single day—you put us all to shame. And you’re strong.”

I blinked up at him, then let out a sound—half breath, half disbelief—and flexed one arm, trying to make light of it. “I’m not strong.” The muscles barely moved. My body still felt as though it didn’t belong to me most days.

But Enzo didn’t laugh. He didn’t let me brush it off.

He reached out slow and deliberate, and pressed his hand flat to my chest, just left of center, right over my heart. “You’re strong in there,” he said.

I froze. Everything in me stilled. His palm was broad, fingers warm through my shirt, grounding me the way nothing else could. My breath came shallow, like my lungs didn’t quite know how to work with that kind of touch. “That’s the part that matters,” he added, not moving his hand.

Enzo’s gaze didn’t falter. It never did.

God, I wanted him so much.

I pushed him back to the chair, watched the moment he understood what I wanted him to do and when he was sitting I clambered onto his lap, and straddled him

His thighs were warm beneath mine, strong and solid when I settled my weight against him. I could feel the heat of him through our clothes, the tension in his muscles as he gripped my hips to steady me.

“I missed this,” I said.

“Robbie,” he whispered, his voice rough with desire.

I pressed my forehead to his, breathing in the scent of him and when I leaned back his eyes met mine and his hands found my hips, steadying me as I pressed closer.

I rolled my hips, drawing a sharp intake of breath from him. The friction between us was exquisite, even through our clothes. I could feel him hardening beneath me, matching my own arousal.

“I want this,” I said.

Enzo pulled me down into a kiss. It started gentle but quickly deepened, becoming hungry, desperate. His tongue traced the seam of my lips, and I opened for him with a soft moan

We rocked together, finding a rhythm that had us both gasping. His hands slid down to cup my ass, pressing me harder, and I was so close, so safe. Enzo groaned into my mouth, the sound vibrating through me

“So small, so perfect for me, your skin is so warm,” he murmured, his voice a husky whisper that sent shivers racing down my spine.

His hands moved from my ass, sliding under my shirt to touch bare skin. The sensation jolted through me—warm, unfamiliar, too much. It was the smell of bleach on a tiled floor, the echo of footsteps in a hallway. My skin prickled, my breath caught. Enzo’s touch wasn’t wrong, but my body didn’t understand that yet. Not when the ghosts of old hands haunted the memory of every touch. His fingertips were warm, almost hot, as they traced up my sides.

Something inside me shattered, and ice flooded my veins.

I’m ugly there.

So ugly.

They made me ugly.

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