I bite the inside of my mouth, stopping myself from staring for too long. My eyes travel up her neck and paused at her full lips, lips I’d do anything to have around my cock right now. I see the slight blush as it spreads down her neck, obviously, she too is having the same battle within herself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I shrug nonchalantly.
“Bullshit.” She shoots daggers at me, stepping closer, her sweet perfume invading my senses. “What photo is Dante talking about?”
Fucking Dante. Can’t keep his mouth shut.
Her icy blue eyes always turn a shade darker when she’s angry. “You’re cute when you’re mad.” I moisten my lips and her eyes follow the movement of my tongue.
“Don’t start with me, Enzo.” She pokes me in the chest and sends fire thrumming through my veins.
“Feeling guilty?” I take a step toward her small frame, our bodies nearly touching. I follow the rise and fall of her breasts, as she adjusts to our closeness, but she never once removes her eyes from mine.
“I haven’t fucking done anything to feel guilty about,” she seethes, the intensity of her burning stare, searing my skin in a blaze of raw, sexual need.
“I’ll be the judge of that.” I watch her face as she fumes.
“You can’t just go around taking photos of people.” She grits her teeth in agitation.
“I can, and I will do as I please with you, to ruin you in every way possible.” But my words lack conviction. They’re empty threats, except I planned to ruin her mind, body, and soul, and watch her unhinge and let go of herself for me.
“Did you have someone watching me?” Her hands ball into fists.
“Maybe?”
“You’re fucked up,” she accuses, anger lingering on the heel of her words, before pushing past me and waltzing back to her seat.
I watch her from afar and can’t help but notice fuckboy lean in toward her and act all caring. Not today, motherfucker.
I casually stroll back to my seat and make a point of bumping into her as much as I can, because I like to be an ass. I keep my eyes on Dante until he realizes I’m trying to get his attention.
“What?” He smirks. The bastard knows exactly what he’s doing.
“You’re a cunt.” I lean over and slap him in the back of the head.
“I know,” he laughs at me. “Why don’t you two just fuck and make up already?” Dante throws his hands in the air dramatically, his voice booming across the table.
Everyone stops and stares between me and Summer, and I can feel her embarrassment heating my skin. I glance her way to see her shrinking under the table, her hand covering half her face.
“Shut up, Dante,” she growls through clenched teeth.
“Ooh, freshman grew some balls,” he chuckles and looks pleased with himself.
“Fuck, Dante, just quit it,” Amber pipes up.
“It’s the truth. Would make dealing with Mr mopey bastard here, a fucking lot easier,” Dante shrugs.
“This is true.” Luca nods in agreement. “So, if you two twisted, and toxic love birds, could just get the make up fuck over and done with, we would all appreciate it.”
I’m enjoying this banter more than I should, mostly because fuckboy is seething and looks as though he’s about to have an aneurysm. His eyes are bugging out of their sockets, and his throat bobs dramatically every time he swallows.
“What are you all talking about?” The chick opposite me leans forward, eager to get in on the conversation.
“Well, Summer, and Enzo, bumped uglies for a while, and then she couldn’t handle his cock and ran away,” Luca explains, grinning like an idiot that has finally conquered an elementary level crossword puzzle.
“Fucking hell, dude, just stop,” my voice vibrates with annoyance. As much as I’m liking making fuckboy angry, I’m not okay with making Summer squirm with anger and embarrassment.
“I’m out.” Summer launches herself out of her chair, throws me a dirty look, before storming outside, with Amber and her friend running after her.
“Nice work, dickheads.” I shake my head at my two cousins.
“Anytime, maestro.” Dante winks at me.
“At your service, captain.” Luca salutes me.
Mitch, Jake, and the other dude continue their conversations, pretending to ignore what just conspired, while Dante and Luca look as though their taunting is about to continue.
“I wouldn’t,” Luca warns, his narrowed eyes fixed on fuckboy.
I turn my head toward college boy, daring him to get up off his chair and follow her.
“Really?” He bites back.
I clear my throat. If this college boy wants to argue, who am I to back down. “Yes, really.” My brows arch.
“Just leave it, Ryan.” His friend across the table shoots him a glare to rival mine.
“And if I don’t just leave it?” He grips the table, pushing his chair backward and standing.
I lean back in my chair and twirl my phone in my fingers, keeping my eyes on him. “My fist and your face will be formally introduced.” I wink at him, a sly smirk thrown in for extra measure.
“Fuck off,” Ryan spits and takes a large step sideways, away from his chair, only to be halted mid-stride by Mitch’s hand, as it wraps around his bicep.
“Don’t be stupid.” Mitch bares his teeth.
“Get off me, wanker.” Ryan swings his arm to loosen Mitch’s grip.
It’s at this point I stand and carefully slide my chair back in under the table, all my movements calculated in controlling the white-hot fury already burning inside me. I take the two steps toward fuckboy and stand an inch away from his face. My features calm and collected, I’m well-practiced in the art of poker face. “Are you prepared to bleed for her?”
He looks at me like I’m some sort of psychopath and swallows hard. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” His eyes dart from me to Mitch, and back.
“I got this, fuckboy. Summer is mine.” I pat him condescendingly on the shoulder and casually make my way outside to find her.
She leans against her car, flanked by her friend and Amber. I slowly make my way over to them, biding my time, fighting with my mixed emotions, trying to come up with something to say that isn’t my usual asshole self.
“We’ll be inside if you need us,” Amber reassures Summer, and then throws me a glare worthy of a toy chihuahua.
“I’ll be fine.” Summer reaches out and squeezes Amber’s hand, letting them know it’s okay and they can go back inside.
I pause a few feet in front of her, my hands in my pockets, eyeing her like she’s going to disappear if I look away. I have wanted this for so fucking long now, just her and me, alone, to hash out our differences. She shifts from foot to foot, leaning against her car, her arms crossed under her breasts. Her face is mostly shadowed in the dark, but I can see a glimmer of hope there under that sorrowful gaze.
“Don’t look at me like that.” I moisten my lips and watch her carefully.
“Like what?” She tilts her head slightly.
“Like you feel sorry for me. Like you want to hold me because my father died.” I take a step forward, closing the gap between us a little, testing her reaction.
I see her inhale as I get closer. “I don’t mean to,” her voice is quiet.
“Don’t be sorry he died, he was a true monster, even if he was my father.” I kick the stones under my shoes and rake my eyes up her long legs and stop when I reach her eyes again.
“I’m not sorry he died.” She shakes her head, and gazes up at me, her sky-blue eyes meeting mine. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you when it happened.” She continues to watch me.
Is there a double meaning to her words, or am I only hearing what I’ve been trying to fight for the past three months? Did she just say she wishes she never left?
“Dante, and Luca, have kept me sane, drowning me in my favorite whiskey.” I wink at her.
She chuckles in response, a sound I didn’t kno
w I missed like fucking crazy. “Good to hear they’re nice to someone.”
“They’re not that bad.” I half nod.
“I beg to differ,” her tone changes slightly.
“Are you okay, from before? I’m sorry they ratted you out.” I take another small step in her direction.
“I’m fine, but I have some explaining to do to Emma. She’s going to be annoyed I didn’t tell her earlier about us.”
“Is there still an us?” My eyes linger on her lips. There goes my fucking resolve, and my manhood, so much for trying to hate her.
“There never was an us, not really.” She narrows her eyes at me.
“Ouch. But true.” I step forward, erasing the space between us, her breasts brushing against my chest.
She peeks up at me beneath her long lashes, her eyes questioning. “What are we doing?” Her voice comes out breathy, coated in desire.
“Whatever you want, Summer.” I brush my scarred knuckles over the soft skin of her cheek and follow her movements as she leans into my touch. We both know that this thing between us is more than what we bargained for. Our desires drawing us in closer and closer in a tangle of blazing need and destruction.
She licks her lips, her tongue darting out one extra time, knowing she is stalling the inevitable. Her eyes flutter closed, and I feel the swell of her breasts against me as she takes in a deep breath.
I inch closer until my stubble brushes against her delicate jaw and whisper against her ear, “open your eyes.” I lean back until our noses are nearly touching, waiting for her look at me.
“I’m scared,” she barely whispers, the vibration of her voice tickling my lips.
My hands find her waist and I squeeze her gently. “You don’t ever have to be afraid of me,” I try to convince her, my gut coiling at the thought of ever making this woman fear me again. I scrunch my eyes closed for a moment and open them to see her staring at me.
“I’m not scared of you, Enzo. I’m scared of how strongly I feel for you and of how this all will implode on us.” She blinks.
“Fuck, you have no idea how much I’ve wanted to hear those words. This isn’t going to implode. I won’t fucking let it. I hadn’t realized what you meant to me until you walked away. I haven’t been able to fucking think straight,” my voice rumbles.
“Enzo.” Her palms come to rest on my chest.
At first, I think she’s going to push me away from her again, and run as far away from me and my fucked up life as she possibly can, but she grips my knitted sweater in her fists and pulls me into her. Crashing her mouth into mine, the heat from her searing kiss, burning my entire body.
I grab her around the waist and lift her until she is off the ground, never breaking our kiss, her legs wrap around me like a vice. I press her back against her car and devour her mouth, groaning like a fucking hungry animal, finally releasing all the pent-up tension that has built up in me for the last few months. Our tongues chase each other, caressing and twirling like two swans in a mating dance, I wrestle my tongue deeper into her willing mouth and I’m met with nothing but raw need. I feel her moan into my mouth, as she grinds against me in search of release.
“About fucking time,” Luca cheers from behind us.
“Fuck,” I growl into Summer’s mouth. “I’m so sorry.”
She looks at me, a smirk dancing on her swollen lips. “Don’t be. I don’t fucking care what they think or say.”
“Who are you and what have you done with Summer?” I give her one last chaste kiss before I place her on her feet. The cheers and wolf-whistling from behind us are ridiculous.
Summer steps out from between me and her car and bows to our audience. “Thank you all.” She flips her finger toward Luca and Dante. Mitch, and Jake, hover beside them.
“I think I’m going to learn to like your preppy little ass.” Luca charges toward us and scoops Summer up, throwing her over his shoulder.
“Stop, put me down,” Summer slaps at his back.
“One victory lap,” Luca shouts as he runs around her car and deposits her back next to me.
“So, lovers, is it official now?” Dante strides over and slaps me on the back, hard enough I feel the sting through my clothing.
“None of your fucking business.” I slap him harder.
“Ow, you dick.” Dante rubs his shoulder, grinning at me. “You’re so pussy whipped.”
“I’ll leave you three to it, I’m going back inside to grab Amber.” Summer’s eyes dart between the three of us before leaning up, kissing me chastely on the lips, and waltzing back toward the diner.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Summer
It’s my last shift here at the bakery, my car is packed to the brim with all my things, ready to drive back to Verona. Back to where I left my heart months ago, with a broken man who I thought was wrong for me in every possible way. Only, the time apart made me realize he is right in every imaginable way. From his broody persona, and fucked up family life, to his vicious mouth, he is my Enzo, battle scars and all. I haven’t seen him since last week when he showed up with his entourage to kidnap Amber back. We have text and talked on the phone, and everything seems to have fallen back into place, only now we are official, official. Now that there isn’t anyone to say no to Enzo, and that very thought unsettles me. In his world, there needs to be someone watching over you, ensuring you don’t do reckless things.
I finish loading the dishwasher and hear the door chime as another customer enters, this morning’s rush has been crazy. “Just a minute,” I call out as I press the button to start the cycle.
I grab another tray of mini Boston Cream Pies, and back out through the doorway to ensure the cakes don’t get damaged from the plastic curtain. I turn to face the front of the shop to see Enzo, standing there, in all his delicious glory.
“What are you doing here?” A huge grin spreads across my face, my heart thudding against my ribcage. The very sight of him, with his perfectly messy hair, dark and moody eyes framed by his long eyelashes, and his soft lips always get my stomach in knots. The amazing kind of knots.
“You text me, you couldn’t wait to see me this morning.” He flashes me a heart-melting smirk.
“I meant once I got back to Verona,” I laugh nervously. Why the hell am I all of a sudden nervous?
“Well, here I am.” His eyes scan the tray of cakes in my arms.
I watch him come toward me, his eyes full of mischief and desire, and I swallow the lump of nervous tension knotting in my throat. He stops in front of me, his eyes roaming my face, like a hunter studying their kill, waiting for the perfect moment to strike. I’m caught in his allure, unable to move or think at this point, and grip the tray like my life depends on it.
His eyes drop to the cakes, surveying them, and plucks the cake closest to my breast, brushing against me as he lifts it off the tray, a smear of cream spreading across my dress. “Oops,” he says deadly serious.
I glance down at the mess he’s made and glide my eyes back up over his broad chest and meet his eyes again. “That one’s on the house,” I smirk up at him, his face is still broody as fuck.
“So generous, freshman.” He glides his index finger along the slit of the cake and collects the cream bringing it up to his mouth and licking it off, knowing exactly what he’s doing.
Holy. Fuck. I think I just about combust watching him. I clench my core together and stand there, mouth agape, staring at his enticing lips as they close over his finger.
“Mmm, not bad,” he whispers, his dark eyes full of desire as he repeats the sexy as fuck process on the other side of the cake.
“I have more out the back.” I try to remember to breathe.
“Let’s go look.” His eyes are hooded, and his voice is commanding. He steps forward, bumping into the tray, and I step back in response. He continues this until he has herded me into the back of the shop, his eyes never wavering in their lust-filled haze. He’s like a predator, toying with his victim until he’s bored of playi
ng.
“You can’t be back here,” I squeak, as my ass hits the table in the center of the kitchen.
“Says who?” He cocks his head to the side.
“The owner,” I stutter as he grabs the tray of cakes I’m still gripping on to for dear life and places them on the table next to me.
“Fuck the owner,” he presses his firm stomach against me, tilting my head up with his finger. “Keep your eyes on me.”
I swallow at the authority of his words and do as I’m told. He reaches next to me and straightens back up, placing his thumb against my lips, smearing the cream from the cake across them.
“Open up.” He presses his thumb against my lips and pushes it into my mouth, coating my tongue in the sweet cream. “Tastes good,” he murmurs.
I nod and suck the cream off his thumb, circling it with my tongue, my stomach dipping in pleasure.
“Turn around,” he demands.
“What are you doing?” My eyes go wide in panic and exhilaration.
“Don’t defy me, freshman.” He shakes his head and spins me on the spot, so my hips are pressed against the table edge.
“Enzo,” I warn. I feel his warm fingers against my neck, gripping the zip of my dress.
“Shh, don’t talk, freshman,” the rumble of his voice vibrates against my neck, sending goosebumps over my skin.
I feel his fingers slide against my skin as he slowly, oh so fucking slowly, unzips my uniform, making me squirm in the process. My heart is about to leap out of my throat at the very thought of a customer coming into the bakery and catching us. “Enzo, we can’t, someone will see us,” my voice quivers in desire.
He leans against me, making me fall forward, and I brace myself with my palms, flat against the table. His lips trail kisses along my neck and down my shoulder, his fingers sliding the sleeve of my dress over my arm until it hangs at my elbow. He repeats the slow, sensual torture to the other side of my neck and down my shoulder until the top half of my dress pools around my waist.
He pulls my ponytail, extending my neck, his lips hovering over my ear. “Turn around,” his voice low and smoldering.
Vicious Enzo: A College Bully Romance (Verona Academy Book 2) Page 9