Page 45 of Bellini Bound
“JesusfuckingChrist!”
With my racing heart attempting to break free of my chest, my grip on the edge of the wall was the only thing keeping me from passing out as black spots danced across my vision.
The absolute last thing I expected when I walked into the kitchen this morning was to find Enzo standing there, casually eating a bowl of cereal while leaning against the butcher-block countertop.
Blinking a few times, I didn’t trust my traitorous mind not to conjure up a hallucination of the man, considering he was all I could think about since our late-night bathroom encounter. Once I was certain Enzo wasn’t a figment of my imagination, I allowed my gaze to sweep over him. If I hadn’t been quick enough to bite down on my lower lip, a moan would have spilled into the air.
It should be illegal how good-looking that man was. Knowing him, it probably was.
Still, I couldn’t tear my eyes away.
A black tank top was molded to his muscular chest, riding up at the hem to expose a slice of inked skin over toned abs. Matching black joggers hung low on his hips, and damn if I didn’t curse that they weren’t gray so that I could get a peek at the bulge they hid.
The raspy clearing of a throat snapped me out of it, and my face flamed over having been caught ogling the perfect specimen that, by some cruel twist of fate, was my husband.
Mouth drier than the Sahara, I panted, “You’re here.”
“I am.” Another spoonful of cereal reached his mouth.
I honed in on the bandage affixed to his right bicep. “How’s your arm?”
“How’s yours?” Enzo jerked a chin in the direction of my cardigan-covered limb.
My fingers automatically lifted to touch the hidden marks. “Sore.”
“Show me,” he commanded.
“Not unless you show me yours.” That poor choice of words had a rush of heat pooling between my thighs. Ugh, my vibrator would be putting in overtime later.
Enzo grunted, which I took for a no.
“Is that doctor still around? Might need to recommend that he schedule you for a CT scan. Your brain appears to be affected since you can’t give more than two-word answers.”
Lifting the bowl, Enzo drank the leftover milk from his breakfast. And I could have sworn I saw the tiniest hint of a smirk on those glistening lips before he wiped it, along with any residual moisture, away with the back of his hand.
This was the longest we’d ever spent in the same room. And something about sharing space with him made me feel like I was about to burst out of my skin. Maybe it was that we were strangers forced into each other’s lives. Perhaps it was that he was corrupt, representing everything evil in theworld that I was taught to condemn growing up. Most likely, it was all that ink on display, and I couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to trace each line with my fingertips before following up with my tongue.
Okay, I had to get out of here before I embarrassed myself.
But first, I needed to know what he was doing in the house.
I gestured to his discarded cereal bowl. “Stop by to raid my fridge?”
With a grimace, Enzo explained, “There’s a security issue.”
My eyebrows rose. “What kind of security issue?”
“I’m not at liberty to share that information.”
I scoffed. “Does this have anything to do with you getting shot?”
“Possibly.”
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I exhaled heavily. “How long are you here for?”
“Indefinitely.”
My heart sank, my freedom ripped away without warning, and I couldn’t keep my voice from wavering when I asked, “So, what am I supposed to do? Return to my cell?”
