Because everyone had bulletproof blinds.
As soon as he turned on more lights, I stepped further into the kitchen and eyed the space. My hand ran over the clean counter, admiring the simple lines and the lack of clutter on the open main floor.
There was nothing unnecessary. Nothing out of place.
Except for the fruit bowl on the counter. I nudged it as I trailed my hand over the smooth marble, subtly straightening it so that the angle of the corner aligned with the angle of the counter itself.
"You like it?" Enzo asked, and I turned to look at him. His brow was furrowed as he studied me too closely.
"It's beautiful," I admitted, and even I knew it was an odd choice of words for a woman to use to describe something so square. The lines and the angles were all sharp and perfect, with varying tones of grey and black to accompany the woodwork in the floor and beams of the ceiling.
"Most women think it's cold and boxy," he said, a smile tilting his lips up. It seemed significant to him, somehow, that I would like his house.
I ignored the jealousy I had no right to feel, hating the way my heart clenched. I didn't know him. I had no claim over him.
So why did the thought of other women being in his house bother me so much?
"No! The angles are all so perfect." The living room faced a huge art canvas, the navy and blush colors working like such a perfect pop of color in the otherwise monochromatic space that I wanted to cry. It was clearly a woman's touch.
I didn't know a single man who would choose art with blush in it. That it was my favorite color must have been a random coincidence. It was probably his girlfriend's favorite too.
Unlike most of the Bellandis, he seemed like just the type to settle down. Far more than Matteo, Lino, and Ryker had, anyway.
"The angles?" he asked, his voice rising with a chuckle as he tested the words. I could practically feel his eyes studying me.
I stilled, spinning to give him an awkward smile. "Ninety-degree angles are my favorite."
Of all the things I could have said, I scoffed inside my head. Who the hell had a favorite angle?
He did me the favor of ignoring the weird statement. "It's late. I'll take you to your room and get you settled," he said, scratching the back of his head and leading the way to the stairs at the front of the house. I sighed with relief as we climbed them. One never knew quite what to expect from Bellandi men. "I'm not going to rape you, Sadie. You can tell me when you're ready."
"Ready for what?" I squeaked, my voice raising to a level I was fairly certain I hadn't heard in decades. There was something about him that disarmed me, that made me care too much. I always wanted to hide my quirks and the disorder they came from. But with him, it felt like he saw right through every cover that usually worked.
Like he saw right through to the very core of me.
"Ready for me to fuck you so hard you forget your own name and only remember mine," he murmured, and I tripped on the top step. Nearly falling to my face like an uncoordinated boob was not on my list of accomplishments for the night.
I'd single-handedly taken down an attempted kidnapper. I could handle walking.
Most days, but those words made my thighs clench up on me.
Mayday, Mayday. Abort mission.
I needed out now.
I laughed, deciding to insult his manhood to brush off the statement. I knew better than most that men were just pigs. They said shit like that just to boast, not because they genuinely meant any of it. "In my experience, men who make big claims like that?" I pinched my fingers in the universal symbol for small. "They never deliver."
He growled, spinning and grabbing my waist. Pushing me back to the wall, he didn't stop until he towered over me and had me pinned with the hard surface at my back and his bulk at my front. Before we'd stopped moving, I'd grabbed a handful of his junk, ready to twist and squeeze until he begged for mercy.
Instead, he grinned for a moment, his eyes glancing down at where I held him through his jeans. The length of him twitched against my palm. And it was really, truly unfortunate that there was just too much there to be small.
Some men had it all.
"Do not speak of other men to me. They no longer exist for you, Carina." His hand stroked my hair, wrapping it around his fist and tugging until I tipped my head back under the pressure. "There's only me now."
His lips crashed down on mine, the taste of pure man filling my senses. He was everywhere, surrounding me, all over me.
I couldn't allow it.
I parted my lips for him, deceiving him into thinking I'd open for him. The way I so wanted to.
Just when I had him convinced, I sank my teeth into his bottom lip until I tasted blood. Instead of relenting, he gripped his hand around my jaw. Fingers on one side and thumb on the other, he applied just enough pressure that I had to release his lip. Then his tongue thrust inside, devouring my mouth until my body was ready to melt in his arms.
Until I was ready to climb him like a spider monkey.
Then he tore his mouth away, leaving me gaping after him as he picked up the bag off the floor and tossed it into the bedroom across the hall. His eyes went to the red stain on my lip as he ran his tongue over
