Enzo’s POV
I enter my bedroom like a man fleeing a crime scene.
The door shuts behind me, but it does nothing to block out her scent, vanilla and sin or the echo of her voice in my head.
“I just want someone to love me…”
God.
My hands are shaking. My body, still humming from her touch. My skin, still carrying the memory of hers.
I lean against the door, palms pressed flat against the wood like I am holding something back a flood, a fire, maybe myself. My breathing is still uneven, my shirt sticking to my skin with sweat that has nothing to do with the heat of the house.
I have been with women before. Too many, maybe. Enough to know when it’s just bodies colliding and when it’s something else. What happened with Brianna was not just s*x.
She’s Matteo’s wife. That thought should be a
