The silence in Amelia's room was not comforting. It was thick. Unsettling. Like the calm before a storm that already knew your name.
She sat on the edge of her bed, her bare feet brushing against the cool wooden floor. Her skin still tingled from Enzo’s touch the night before — his kisses had branded her, his hands had traced paths of longing down her spine — but now, daylight cast everything in a different light.
She hated how easily she softened around him. How quickly she surrendered.
How much she still wanted him.
The door opened slowly.
Enzo stood in the doorway, dressed in black jeans and a charcoal shirt, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. His hair was a mess, his jaw clenched, and his eyes — those godforsaken eyes — flicked over her with a sharpness she recognized instantly.
“S
