by Abby Green
Enzo stood under the streetlight, his shoulders huge, his frame lean and awe-inspiring, his face dark and sinful. Everything about him was sinful. Rob’s words came back to Cara. Could this man make her forget? For one night? Even as she was thinking this, her thoughts and belly in turmoil at what she was walking away from, he shrugged nonchalantly and stepped back too. The moment was gone. Of course he wouldn’t insist. It had been a complete mystery to her what he had seen in her at all in the first place. However, disappointment was crushing, mocking her.
‘Allora, buonanotte, Cara.’
Her tongue seemed to cleave to the roof of her mouth as she realised that she’d never in her life see this man again. And she suddenly wondered desperately how it would feel to kiss him. But she reiterated to herself sternly that this was the realm of fantasy. He was not in her league and she wouldn’t even want him to be. Didn’t she despise the kind of men who went into that club? And yet, prompted a voice, didn’t you think he was different?
As if in accord with the rebellious voice, her newly awakened body was screaming to walk up to him and say, Wait—yes. I’ll take what you’re offering. Even though he’d displayed his own indifference to her answer. Patently he didn’t care. All he had to do was snap his fingers and women would be tripping over themselves to be with him. She had to focus on that. There was nothing special going on here.
‘Goodnight, Enzo.’ He hadn’t even told her his second name.
She turned abruptly and walked away, her breath coming fast, her heart thumping so hard that she feared it might burst from her chest. And, ridiculously, at that moment she felt more alone than she had at any point in her life to date. And that was saying a lot. Silly tears pricked the back of her eyes and she told herself it had to be the result of her fraught and emotional week. Not the amazing evening that had come out of nowhere.
As she passed the queue of people waiting to get into the club she overheard one girl say loudly, ‘Look at him…she must be crazy to walk away from him…’
Cara stopped in her tracks and slowly turned around. Enzo was not looking at her any more, and if anything that should have made it easier for her to put this whole night down to some crazy experience brought on and heightened by grief and shock. But she couldn’t move. She watched as he said something to one of the other doormen, who whistled, obviously calling his car round. All Cara could see was his broad shoulders, that inky black hair, the sheer masculine beauty of his build. The latent power in his tall proud stance. Something within her was calling out to be obeyed. Some deep, primal need to forge a connection. The thought of never seeing him again was causing a panicky fluttering in her chest.
Cara was unaware of her feet carrying her in one inevitable direction: back to him. And then she was standing behind him and feeling as though the world had come back to rest on its axis again. With her heart in her mouth she tentatively touched his back. Immediately he tensed and turned around, dark brows coming together over tawny eyes that sliced down into hers, seeing right through her in an instant.
‘Changed your mind?’
The sardonic arrogance, the something cynical in his expression, couldn’t impinge on the pathetic weakness that had led her back to him. She couldn’t answer straight away. She’d never done anything so rash and impulsive in her life, but the thought suddenly struck her that she’d never wanted anything or anyone with such a deep visceral need before. There was protection in knowing that this was it. One night. With this beautiful man. And then she would allow all the pain and hurt and grief back in. But just for this night, these few hours that stretched ahead, she could be someone else. Not the girl orphaned at sixteen; not the little sister bullied by her older brother, hoping pathetically that he might change; not the girl working day and night to obtain a degree. And not the girl who had been involved in a horrific car crash in which she’d been the only one to walk away without a scratch.
His jaw was clenching again, a muscle working under the skin, and Cara had the strongest desire to reach up and press her lips there. She wanted to grasp at this moment in which she could lose herself in him with a passion that made her shake. Finally she did seize the moment, and nodded and said huskily, ‘Yes. I’d like to come to your hotel with you.’
CHAPTER TWO
THE journey to the hotel was made in silence. A chaffeurdriven car whisked them away from the club. Cara had tensed immediately on sitting in the car, unable to stop her reflex action, the crash still being so vivid. But Enzo had looked at her sharply and she’d forced herself to relax, although her hands were still clenched under her thighs and a light sweat had broken out on her brow. A taut, expectant silence enveloped them within the luxurious confines. Cara didn’t look at Enzo. She couldn’t. And yet somehow—and she couldn’t understand it—to be here with him…it felt right. As the car moved smoothly and slowly through the traffic, her own sense of panic dissipated a little. She felt safe.
She was so acutely aware of the man beside her that she could feel the latent heat and power in his body reach out to envelop her. At that moment the car pulled up outside one of London’s most discreetly exclusive hotels. It added even more to Enzo’s mystique, as she would have assumed he’d be staying somewhere more flashy. This hotel was renowned for the way it protected its famous and wealthy customers.
Enzo got out of the car and reached a hand in for Cara. She looked at it for a long moment and took a deep breath, her pulse beating heavy and slow in her veins. Closing her eyes in a ridiculously superstitious moment, she reached out and found her hand instantly encased in his huge one, not a second of hesitation in finding it, as if she’d tested her body to prove to her that this was meant to be.
He led her in through the front doors of the hotel. The night concierge greeted Enzo deferentially in Italian. They stepped into the lift, and still not a word had been spoken, barely a glance exchanged. A fierce burning was starting low in Cara’s belly, getting higher and higher. She could feel the tips of her breasts hardening against the material of her dress.
When the lift doors opened they stepped into a plush corridor with one door at the end. Enzo opened the door to his luxury suite and Cara followed him in, her eyes growing huge and round as she took in the darkly decadent splendour. The room was designed like a Victorian library.
Enzo had let go of her hand to shrug off his coat and jacket, and he walked over to a table that held bottles of drinks and glanced back, his features shadowed. Cara looked at him, and that trembling started up again. She took in the way his hair was cut so short and close to his skull, how exquisitely shaped his head was. She couldn’t believe she was here.
‘Would you like a drink?’
She shook her head jerkily and watched as Enzo poured himself a shot of something dark and golden. Like his eyes, she thought. He downed it in one before putting the glass down. The sound was jarring in the silence.
He turned around to face her, and the power in his huge body made Cara’s heart skitter all over again. She had no experience, had barely even kissed a man, and yet she knew on some deep, very sure level that she was meant to be here with this man tonight. It was an assertion that had been growing stronger and stronger since she had made her decision. Without even touching him she felt on some level as if she knew him, had been with him before—which was crazy as of course she hadn’t.
‘Come here.’
And as if in a dream, answering some deep need that had been brought to life within her, she walked over to him, coming to a stop just feet away.
Enzo closed the gap between them and brought his hands to her coat, pulling it open and off her shoulders. It fell to the floor. She looked up into his eyes, suddenly needing to feel reassured, and what she saw there nearly melted her on the spot. They were dark and glowing golden, intent on her face. It wasn’t reassurance, exactly, it was desire. Passion. A vortex of unexplored sensuality had gripped her and was fast hurtling her into this new world.
‘Enzo, I—’
‘Shh.’ He put a finger to her lips, stopping whatever it was she’d been about to say. And it was just as well, thought Cara shakily, as she wasn’t even sure what she was going to say. Her lack of experience seemed irrelevant right now. To speak might break the spell. For some reason this whole evening, with all its enigmatic silences, had had an undercurrent of silent communication running through it. Leading them here. And finally Cara gave herself up to that. She couldn’t question it any more.
Enzo lifted his hands and cradled Cara’s head, his fingers threading through the silky strands of her hair, tangling it. He stepped even closer, so that now their bodies connected, and Cara felt as if she was burning up through the material of her dress where she could feel his lean, hard length. It made her feel weak.
His head descended to hers. She closed her eyes, unable to keep them open any longer. The first touch of his lips to hers was fleeting. She had a sensation of firm contours. Her breath sharpened, coming in rapid bursts, and instinctively her hands came out to steady herself, resting on his waist. His hands fisted in her hair, tugging her head back gently, and her eyes opened, looking straight up into golden pools flecked with green.
Oh, Lord.
Enzo was looking at her assessingly. It made Cara feel nervous, but it was drowned in the proximity of her body to his, the clamour of her pulse. After a long moment his head descended again, but instead of kissing her where she ached most, on her mouth, his lips touched the delicate skin of her temples, trailed fire down her cheeks, and down further, to where the pulse beat rapidly under the skin of her neck. His tongue tasted her skin.
She twisted her head, her mouth searching blindly for his. She wanted to feel him take her, plunder her. Wanted to feel her tongue meshed with his. She wanted it with every cell in her being…but Enzo seemed to have other ideas. Cara suddenly felt bewildered. She was unaware of the soft moan of desperation that came from her mouth.
His hands on her head kept her steady, where he wanted her. Eyes glittered fiercely down, caught on her mouth. She tingled there, in high expectation that now he’d press his mouth to hers, wanting it so badly. But then he brought a hand to her bottom and pulled her in tight against him, and she felt the bulge of his hard arousal. She gasped out loud. Kissing was forgotten as all desire seemed to pool south and centre around her groin.
Wanting to be closer, if it were possible, she slid her hands up Enzo’s back, feeling the taut muscles as they moved under the silk of his shirt. Impatiently she registered that she needed to feel his skin, and scrabbled to pull his shirt out of his trousers, moaning softly when her hands made contact with his warm, smooth back.
Enzo tipped back her head, baring her neck to his mouth again. Cara’s breath came fast and jerkily, her hips moving instinctively against his body. He pulled back, breathing harshly, a fierce glitter in his eyes.
‘You’re a witch.’
Cara shook her head, feeling dazed. ‘No, I’m just Cara…’
His eyes flashed with something she couldn’t decipher and his jaw tightened. He shifted slightly, making her feel the full extent and power of his erection. Her legs nearly buckled. In the next instant she was lifted into Enzo’s arms and he took her into the adjoining bedroom, equally sumptuous, with a king-size four-poster bed, its covers turned down invitingly.
He put her down and very shakily she slipped off her shoes, her toes curling into the thick carpet. She watched as he impatiently threw aside the decorative cushions artfully adorning the bed, and then he turned back, the glitter even fiercer in his eyes now. The only thing that kept Cara standing there so calmly was the fact that she knew his desire was mirrored in her eyes too, and all the way through her body. She knew she couldn’t turn back. This was fate. She was meant to be with this man. She felt it so surely that she didn’t hesitate for a second.
She walked up to him and lifted her hands, starting to undo the buttons on his shirt. As her hands descended and his chest was revealed, bit by bit, the tremor in her fingers got worse and worse. At the last button Enzo took her hands away and impatiently ripped it open, the button popping free and falling somewhere on the carpet unnoticed. The shirt fell to the ground and Cara looked at the bare expanse of chest in front of her. Heat suffused her face. She reached out a reverent hand and touched him tentatively, trailing fingers over his hard flat nipples. His chest surged as he sucked in a breath, and when Cara looked up his eyes were momentarily closed.
In the next breath he’d opened them, and the dynamic changed. He turned her around, lifting up the hair resting on the nape of her neck, clearly looking for a zip or some opening on her dress.
It almost hurt to breathe when she said, ‘It’s a jersey dress.’
He turned her back, his features almost comically impatient. ‘A what?’
Cara couldn’t answer. She just brought her hands to the bottom of her dress and pulled it up, over her thighs and hips, over her waist and chest, until everything was obscured and she knew he was looking at her body. She couldn’t see his reaction. But she felt it in the air. Everything went still.
Finally the dress was free of her head, and as she pulled it away she felt her hair fall down her back. She couldn’t look at Enzo, feeling unnacountably shy. She was also very aware of the functional nature of her underwear, how boring it must seem compared to how she would imagine other women might dress for him, in concoctions of lace and silk. She wore plain white cotton underwear, and if she remembered correctly these particular pants were so old they had a hole in the seam. Mortification twisted Cara’s insides as she suddenly had a reality check and an implosion of panic. Her breasts were too small, her hips too narrow. Her brother had always told her derisively she had the figure of a boy.
With her head downbent she brought her arms up to cover her chest, and immediately felt heat as Enzo came towards her and tugged them down again. Cara fought rising emotion, feeling ridiculously inadequate. She didn’t want to see pity in his eyes, disgust at her less than womanly body.
A finger came under her chin, forcing her head up. She kept her eyes closed. Enzo still held her arms away from her body, and her chest heaved with the effort to control her emotions.
‘Cara…’
It was that inflection again, making her insides melt. Reluctantly Cara opened her eyes. She steeled herself, tilting her chin in an unconscious show of dignity, and met his gaze. It was dark, unfathomable and hot. Very hot. Cara frowned. ‘But I’m…not…’
‘Not what?’ he asked gruffly, even as his eyes travelled down over her body, taking in every dip and curve, and the high, firm breasts, tips hard and thrusting against the cotton of her bra.
Cara felt wanton and aching all over. He wasn’t looking at her with disgust at all. ‘I thought…I thought you wouldn’t find me—’ She swallowed miserably.
He looked at her again. ‘Attractive?’
He shook his head and took his arms from hers, let his body do the talking. With lethal grace he opened and dropped his trousers, stepping out of them. His shoes and socks were gone, bare feet tanned and big. Cara gulped. She’d heard the waitresses at the club talking lewdly over the years about men and their anatomies and proportions. His legs were long and tautly muscled—the legs of an athlete, not someone who worked out in the gym. Her gaze finally landed on that part of him that was still hidden under snug briefs. Very snug briefs, straining with the erection they encased. With a dry mouth she watched helplessly at the mercy of her rapidly heating libido, as he pulled them down and off, wincing slightly, freeing the full extent of what looked to Cara like a massive erection.
Her eyes flew to his. Surely there was no way—?
He reached for her and pulled her towards him, all the way, until they stood thigh to thigh, chest to chest. And where Cara could feel him pressing against her, the power of his sexuality a pulsing enticement to touch, all trepidation melted away in an instant, the beat of her blood drowning it out.
He caught his hands in her hair again, seemingly luxuriating in
the long, heavy strands, twisting them around and through his fingers. She reached up and pressed her mouth and lips against his neck, tongue darting out, teeth nipping gently. He tasted salty and it made her skin prickle. His chest against hers was like a huge steel wall, the muscles rippling, causing her breasts to ache for his touch.
His penis now slid tantalisingly between her legs. The fabric of her panties was a delicious torture, and Cara found her hips impatiently moving against Enzo, seeking a deeper connection, wanting to feel him skin to skin. Wanting to feel him inside her. She was aware of this even though she’d never experienced it before.
Somehow they moved, and Enzo sat down on the side of the bed in front of Cara. He snaked a hand around her waist and drew her to him. She looked down with slumberous eyes. Her awakening, here in this room, was something she was already storing away in pieces for a future time when she would resavour every bit. He reached his hands behind her back and she felt him undo the clasp of her bra. It fell down her arms and away with a whisper, and her breasts tightened, the tips puckering even more in the air under his gaze.
He cupped one breast, his hand huge and dark against her pale skin, her freckles standing out starkly. She didn’t have time to be self-conscious because he drew her even closer, and she had to put her hands on his shoulders to steady herself. But she wasn’t ready for the sensation when she felt his breath as he closed his hot wet mouth around one nipple, tugging and pulling, suckling and rolling the tip. Cara gasped inwards, her belly contracting, sucking in short, shocked breaths, her hands tightening convulsively on his shoulders.
The sensation of his mouth on her breast caused a tight wire of almost excruciating pain right down to her groin. Between her thighs she could feel his erection, and instinctively she closed them slightly, trapping it. His mouth jerked from her breast.
‘Witch,’ he said again.
He moved subtly, the hard length of his penis now rigid between her legs, and drew the other nipple into his mouth. This time Cara cried out. She felt so moist at the apex of her thighs that she was embarrassed. Was it normal?
