Page 75 of Ruined By Blood
His fingers thread through my hair, tilting my head back as his mouth traces a path down my throat. Each press of his lips sends shivers through me. When he reaches the sensitive spot where my neck meets my shoulder, my entire body trembles.
"God, the sounds you make," Enzo murmurs against my skin.
I hadn't realized I was making sounds at all.
His hand slides up my side, thumb grazing the underside of my breast through my sweater. The touch, even through fabric, makes me whimper. I feel his smile against my neck before his mouth returns to mine, hungrier now.
The weight of his body presses me back against the pillows, and I welcome it.
Suddenly, Enzo pulls away, breathing hard. His eyes have darkened to near-black, pupils blown wide with desire. He looks almost pained as he creates space between us.
"We need to stop," he says, voice strained.
The loss of his warmth feels like physical pain. "Why?"
"Because if we don't stop now, piccola, I won't be able to stop at all."
The raw honesty in his voice sends another rush of heat through me. My body pulses with unfamiliar need, demanding satisfaction I've never sought before.
"What if..." I swallow hard, gathering courage. "What if I don't want you to stop?"
Enzo closes his eyes briefly, as if my words physically hurt him. When he opens them, the intensity of his gaze pins me in place.
"You don't know what you're asking for."
"I'm asking for you," I whisper, surprising myself with my boldness. "I want this. I want you."
His eyes search mine, looking for hesitation or fear. "This isn't something to rush into, Sienna. Not after everything you've been through."
I reach up, tracing my fingers along his jawline. "Everything I've been through is exactly why I want this. I want to know what it's like when it's my choice." I stop, not ready to name the complicated feelings swirling inside me.
He cups my face in his hands like I'm something infinitely precious.
"I want you, Sienna," he whispers. "All of you."
"Then show me," I breathe, pulling him back toward me. "Show me what it should be like."
Enzo groans, resistance crumbling as our lips meet again.
I feel Enzo's fingers at the hem of my sweater, his eyes questioning. When I nod, he pulls it over my head with excruciating slowness. Cool air kisses my bare skin as he tosses the garment aside.
"Beautiful," he whispers, eyes tracing every inch of exposed skin.
His gaze finds the cigarette burn on my ribs, and my breath catches. Instead of disgust, his eyes fill with a fierce tenderness that makes my heart ache. He lowers his head, pressing his lips to the puckered scar.
"I'm going to take this slow," he murmurs against my skin.
He trails his mouth to another scar, this one a thin white line beneath my breast. His lips brush it reverently, as if healing old wounds with each kiss. I tremble beneath him, overwhelmed by the gentleness this dangerous man shows me.
"You're trembling," he says, looking up. "We can stop."
"No," I whisper. "Please don't."
His hands find the waistband of my leggings, and he slides them down my legs along with my underwear. I fight the urge to cover myself as he takes in the sight of me, completely bare and vulnerable.
Enzo kisses his way back up my body, lingering at each mark of violence on my skin. Each brush of his lips feels like redemption, transforming scars from symbols of shame into something else—proof of survival.
When his mouth reaches the junction of my thighs, I gasp. No one has ever touched me there with such reverence. His fingers part me gently, and I feel one slide inside me.
