Page 54 of Ruined By Blood
Heat crawls up my neck. "That I liked it. The kiss."
"Which one?" A small smile plays at the corner of his mouth.
"Both. But especially the second one." My voice sounds strange to my own ears, breathless and wanting.
The game continues, questions and dares flowing between us. Each round brings us closer, peeling away layers neither of us intended to shed. It makes me feel... normal. Like a woman playing a silly game with a man she's attracted to, not a victim running for her life. For these precious moments, I'm just Sienna—not Sterling's daughter, not damaged goods.
Am I attracted to him?
When did that happen?
"Truth or dare?" I ask when my turn comes again.
"Dare." His eyes challenge me, dark and intense.
My heart hammers against my ribs. I've never wanted someone to touch me before. With other men, I'd always disconnected, floating somewhere above my body while they took what they wanted. But now, my skin hums with awareness every time Enzo moves closer.
"I dare you to..." The words stick in my throat.
"Yes?" His gaze pins me in place, patient but hungry.
I take a deep breath. "I want you to touch me." The words tumble out before I can reconsider.
His expression shifts, surprise giving way to something darker, more intense. "Where?"
"Anywhere you want," I whisper.
He reaches forward slowly, giving me time to retreat. When his fingertips brush my cheek, I don't flinch. Instead, I lean into his touch like a cat seeking warmth.
"Your turn," he murmurs, his hand still cupping my face. "Truth or dare?"
"Dare." The word feels powerful on my tongue.
"Kiss me again." His voice is rough around the edges. "But only if you want to."
I do. I want to feel his mouth on mine, to taste him again. So I lean forward and press my lips to his, unpracticed but eager.
When we break apart, I'm breathing hard. Something new courses through my veins. Desire, untainted by fear or obligation.
My fingertips tingle with the urge to touch my cheek where his hand rested moments ago, to trace the warmth he left behind. I curl my fingers into my palm instead, afraid of revealing just how deeply his touch affected me.
"I should..." My voice cracks. I clear my throat and try again. "I should go upstairs."
"Of course," he says, his voice a low rumble that I feel more than hear. He leans back, giving me space, and the cool air that rushes between us is both relief and loss.
I stand on unsteady legs, wrapping my arms around myself as if I might fly apart otherwise. The need for gentle contact burns through me, stronger than any hunger I'veknown. I've spent years perfecting the art of disappearing when men touch me. Mentally checking out, becoming numb. But with Enzo, I stay present. I feel everything. And it terrifies me how much I want more.
"Sienna."
I pause, not trusting myself to look at him.
"I'll be here," he says quietly. "Whenever you want company."
The simple offer nearly breaks me. In my world, nothing comes without a price. Every touch, every moment of tenderness has always been a prelude to pain. But Enzo just waits, making no move to follow me, to claim what he hasn't been given.
"Thank you," I whisper, the words inadequate for the storm inside me.
I force myself to walk, not run, up the stairs. Each step takes me farther from him, but the ghost of his touch follows me like a shadow. By the time I reach the bedroom door, my hands are shaking.
