Accidentally Yours Chapter 46

****Lola****

The sliding door hissed open.

Enzo stepped out shirtless, still stretching from sleep, sweatpants slung so low Lola momentarily forgot her name. His hair was tousled, his chest golden in the morning light, and he looked… fucking edible.

***Oh, I’m gonna really dirty things to him.***

She didn’t even try to look away.

Gino caught her stare and snorted. “Jesus, Marlowe. At least pretend you’re not eye-fucking him.”

Without breaking her gaze, she said, “I’m trying to decide which part of him I’m going to devour first.”

Enzo arched a brow, amused, but definitely tracking every inch of her attention.

Gino let out a low whistle. “This is better than cable.”

Lola slowly stood, setting her cup down with precision. Her fingers reached out, curling into the drawstring of Enzo’s waistband.

She didn’t look away from Enzo—but her voice was loud enough for Gino to hear:

“Gino… you might wanna leave.”

Then, with a smirk, “Or don’t. But either way, it’s about to get real explicit out here.”

Enzo’s knuckles flexed at his sides. His jaw ticked once. “You have five seconds,” he muttered—to Gino, not her.

Gino stood, casual as hell, holding his mug like he was strolling out of a yoga retreat. “A beautiful sunrise, strong coffee, and a front-row seat to rated-R balcony debauchery… Best. Morning. Ever.”

“Gino.”

“Fine, fine. I’m just going to go watch from the security room until breakfast is ready,”he called, grinning like the devil as the sliding door hissed shut behind him.

***Good. Because she had no intention of waiting.***

Lola turned back to Enzo—still gloriously shirtless, the pale dawn catching on the sharp lines of his chest. The waistband of his sweats hung low, teasing the promise of everything she’d already memorized in vivid detail.

***Fuck, look at him.***

***Like a sin I never want to repent for.***

Her fingers were still curled in the drawstring of his sweats. She gave them a little tug.

“C’mere.

Sit.”

It wasn’t a question.

Enzo let her lead him to the cushioned chair she’d been lounging in earlier. His legs spread as he dropped into it, silent, eyes fixed on her with something dark and wanting flickering behind his lashes.

“Enjoy the sunrise,” she whispered, sinking to her knees between his legs, voice husky with intent.

“I’ll enjoy my morning worship.”

His jaw clenched. His abs tightened.

And then her mouth was on him.

Warm. Wet. Wanting.

She took him slow at first—luxurious licks and slow suction like she had all the time in the world. Like this was breakfast. Like this was prayer.

And maybe it was.

Because Enzo tasted like divinity.

Like yes. Like please. Like hers.

Above her, he exhaled hard—his hands gripping the arms of the chair like he might come apart at the seams.

“Fuck, Lola,” he muttered, voice thick and raw.

One hand slipped to the back of her head, fingers threading through her hair, not forcing but anchoring.

She hollowed her cheeks, moaning around him.

***God, I want this every day.***

***Wanted to be the reason he started every morning wrecked and worshipped.***

***Wanted to be the only name on his lips when the sky cracks open.***

***Wanted to be the thing that pulls him out of that dark, impossible world and reminded him he could still feel.***

Enzo’s head tipped back as the first kiss of sunlight touched his skin. A low, broken groan left his chest—one hand fisting her hair tighter, the other gripping the railing like it was the only thing keeping him tethered to the Earth.

The sunrise painted him in gold.

And she was the only one who knew just how soft he sounded when he fell apart.

When he came, it was with her name on his lips like a benediction—like salvation.

And still, she didn’t stop. Not until she was sure he felt every last second of it.

Only then did she ease back, licking her lips as she looked up at him with smug satisfaction.

***This is my new religion.***

***This. Right here. Sunrise and sin.***

He opened his eyes slowly. Wrecked. Breathless. Reverent.

She stood, leaning over him to whisper in his ear.

“Amen.”

She winked.

“Now… shall we get some breakfast? Or a shower first?”

****Enzo****

He wasn’t sure when he started breathing again.

Maybe when she stood up.

Maybe not even then.

The sun had crept higher while he sat there—wrecked, ruined, and reverent—sweat cooling on his skin, pulse still crashing through him like a second heartbeat.

And Lola…

Lola didn’t walk away.

She floated.

She moved like she was made of silk and sunshine, like she hadn’t just dropped to her knees and rewritten the definition of devotion with her mouth.

Like he hadn’t just seen God.

She grabbed her coffee with steady hands, took a slow sip, and stared out at the sunrise like her mouth hadn't just woken him up in the best way.

***Fuck***.

He sat back in the chair, elbows on thighs, palms dragging down his face.

He felt hollowed out. Blessed.

Like something sacred had been carved into his skin.

And then he moved—slow, reverent.

Crossed the space between them like gravity wasn’t a choice.

Lola didn’t flinch when he came up behind her. She didn’t even glance back.

She just… leaned.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, chest pressing flush to her back, and dropped his chin to her shoulder with a low exhale like it was the only way to quiet everything buzzing inside him.

Her body softened instantly.

They stood like that for a long moment. Quiet. Steady.

“Sunrise looks different from here,” he murmured, voice still gravel.

“From your penthouse?” she teased, a smile in her tone.

“Nah.” His grip tightened gently. “From behind you.”

She snorted softly into her mug.

And he fell harder.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, lips brushing bare skin, inhaling the warm-sweet scent of her like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“For what?”

“For this. For you.” He kissed her neck, slow and grateful. “For showing me what peace feels like. What good feels like.”

Another kiss. “What mine feels like.”

She turned just enough to glance back at him, that coffee mug tucked close to her chest.

“You okay?”

“No,” he said, honest and quiet. “But I’m closer now than I’ve been in years.”

Her breath caught.

“I’ve been thinking about you all morning,” she admitted.

That made something deep in his chest pull tight.

“I like who I am around you,” she continued, voice soft but certain. “Fierce. Fearless. Stupidly turned on.” A small smirk.

He chuckled quietly, but didn’t let her go.

“I want to be the reason you get to forget all the hard shit,” she said, gaze distant again—watching the sky go pink. “Even if it’s just for a little while. I want to be the reason you breathe easy.”

His arms locked tighter around her.

And in that moment—sun rising, woman in his arms, heart doing double time in his chest—Enzo Marchesi understood something dangerous:

He could never go back to a life without her in it.

Not even for a second.

“Alright  Firecracker, lets get some breakfast before our shower. I think you’re going to need the extra fuel for what I'm going to do to you.”