I take the painkillers and also get a bottle of water, and head upstairs with my haul. The door is open, and when I enter the bedroom, I hear the shower stop.
Shoot! He’s not done yet. Should I leave?
I set everything down on the bedside table and begin to fix the covers on the bed. Just as I fluff out the pillows, the bathroom door opens. I glance briefly at Enzo before setting thepillow down, then my eyes dart back to him, and I almost choke on a random drop of spit.
He only has a towel wrapped around his waist.
“Don’t panic,” he says, while I stare at his chest and V-cut abs, which are something I’ve never seen.
Now that I know I can trust him, I manage to remain calm and don’t make a run for my room.
Instead, I pick up the first aid kit and whisper, “Come sit.”
Enzo moves closer, and with every step he takes, my body tenses a little, but it’s not as bad as before.
I keep my eyes on the medical supplies while he sits down on the bed, then he asks, “How are you holding up,meu coração?”
I glance up and see he still has the towel in place where he’s sitting propped up against the pillows. I just nod, because the words don’t want to come.
When I step closer and begin to sit down beside Enzo, his voice is very gentle as he says, “You don’t have to do this if it makes you uncomfortable.”
Unexpectedly, his words make something shift deep inside me. It feels as if a part of me that’s remained askew for years clicks back into place.
I haven’t been able to fully trust anyone since the rape, but as I stare at Enzo and see the tenderness in his eyes, I fall irrevocably in trust with him.
It’s a big thing for me. Bigger than the crush I have on him, which hasn’t lessened at all, even after he told me he’s a killer.
Enzo’s gaze sharpens on me. “What’s going on in that pretty head of yours?”
I lower my eyes to the stitches, and remembering why I’m sitting beside him, I open the first aid kit and take out the antiseptic wipes and a fresh bandage.
When I have to lean over him again, and my body presses against his, there’s an intense fluttering in my stomach.
Fantasizing about the man is one thing. Taking care of his wound while he has only a towel draped over his lap is an entirely different thing.
My face heats up as I carefully wipe the area around the stitches clean.
His tone is low and deep as he asks, “Why are you blushing,meu coração?”
I feel my cheeks turn even redder, and when I pull back and reach over to the bedside table to set the used wipe down, Enzo lifts his hand and takes hold of my jaw. Even though he forces me to look at him, he keeps his touch gentle.
“Answer me,” he demands.
For a moment, my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth, and it takes a few seconds before I’m able to mumble, “I’m shy.”
“That’s not why you’re blushing.” His thumb brushes over my skin. “When you look at me, do you like what you see,meu anjinho?”
It’s only then that I realize Enzo has made it very clear he wants me, but I haven’t reciprocated in any way.
Unable to voice my reply, I nod.
He lets go of my jaw while the corner of his mouth lifts. “Yeah? The tattoos aren’t scaring you off?”
My gaze lowers to his chest, and I look at the devil and the burning man. I think I know the answer, but still I ask, “What does it mean?”
“I had to become the devil so I could kill my monster.”
Slowly, I lift my gaze back to his. “Did you?”
