Page 53 of Ruined By Blood
"What's a dream you have? Something you want to come true more than anything."
Her expression shifts, vulnerability replacing the flush of our kiss. She stares at her hands for so long I think she might not answer.
"I want to see my mother," she finally whispers. "Just for one minute. I want to hug her again." Her fingers twist together. "Just once more."
I remember she's mentioned her mother. The way her voice caught when I talked about mine.
"Where is she?" I ask gently.
Sienna shakes her head, eyes dropping to her lap. "It doesn't matter. It's impossible anyway."
I want to push, to ask if her mother is dead or just gone, but the pain etched across her face stops me. Some wounds are too fresh to prod.
"Nothing's impossible, piccola," I say instead.
She looks up. "Truth or dare?" she asks, changing the subject.
I should choose truth. Keep things simple. Safe.
"Dare."
A blush spreads across her cheeks as she gathers her courage. "Kiss me again."
My blood heats at her request. I stand, crossing the distance between us in two strides. This time, I sit beside her on the couch, turning to face her.
"You sure?" I ask, giving her one last chance to retreat.
She nods, eyes locked on mine with unexpected boldness.
I cup her face between my palms, my thumbs tracing her cheekbones. "Remember, you control this. We stop when you want to stop."
I lean in slowly, watching her eyes flutter closed justbefore our lips meet. This time, there's less hesitation in her response. Her mouth moves against mine with growing confidence, learning the rhythm of the kiss. When my tongue seeks entrance, she opens for me with a soft sound that sends heat straight through my body.
My hand slides to her nape, fingers threading through silky hair as I deepen the kiss. She tastes like the tea she was drinking—sweet with a hint of cinnamon.
I pull back before I lose control completely, resting my forehead against hers as we both catch our breath.
"See?" I murmur, my voice husky. "I knew you couldn't resist my kisses."
Her startled laugh is like sunshine breaking through clouds—unexpected and warming everything it touches.
"You're very sure of yourself," she says, the corners of her eyes crinkling with her smile.
"I'm Italian. Confidence comes with the passport."
She laughs again, the sound lighter this time, less surprised. I find myself cataloging these moments—her real smile, her laugh, the way her eyes brighten when her guard drops.
I move back slightly, giving her space while keeping close enough that our knees touch. Her cheeks are still flushed, lips slightly swollen from our kiss.
My thoughts scatter like wildfire after that second kiss. His lips were softer than they looked, gentle in a way that seems impossible for a man like him. The kiss lingers in my mouth long after we've pulled away.
I want more. The realization hits me with startling clarity.
"Your turn," Enzo says, his voice deeper than before. "Truth or dare?"
"Truth," I whisper, not ready to face another dare yet.
His eyes darken. "What are you thinking right now?"
