Accidentally Yours Chapter 79

****Enzo****

“Did everyone have a good day?” His voice cut the quiet, smooth as a blade across silk. His eyes flicked once to Dom, still unconscious. “Lola, you kill him? He smells kind of dead.”

Her grin was lazy, wicked. “Only a little. He deserved it.”

Enzo’s gaze cut across the table, lingered on her.

***Christ. Mine. All mine.***

He tugged the second cuff open, rolled his sleeves higher, watching her watch him. The little tilt of her lips, the spark in her eye—she was already gearing up for trouble.

And then he said it, calm as sin:

“I enjoyed all those pictures today.”

The room tightened. Nico’s spine went stiff. Gino looked like he’d just swallowed glass.

***Good. Let them squirm. Let them remember exactly whose game they’ve been playing.***

Lola’s smirk deepened, slow and knowing. She set Nico’s feet aside with a pat like she’d been humoring him all night, then rose from the couch. Bare legs, messy hair, oversized hoodie slipping off one shoulder like an accident that wasn’t an accident.

She crossed the space without hurry, every step deliberate. Then she stopped in front of him, close enough he caught the lingering tang of margarita lime on her breath.

Her finger traced the buttons of his shirt, dragging slow down the center of his chest. Her voice dropped, husky.

“So… which one was your favorite?”

***Fuck. You. Always you. Doesn’t matter the outfit. Doesn’t matter the pose. You could walk out wrapped in a trash bag and I’d still want to tear it off you with my teeth.***

He didn’t say that. He leaned in instead, towering over her, a smile curving his mouth that was equal parts promise and threat.

Her finger was still tracing down his chest when she tilted her head, mischief glittering in her eyes. Then she pivoted, slow, deliberate, until her back pressed flush to his front, fitting herself against him like she’d been carved for it.

And just like that, she was facing the couch. Facing them.

***Christ almighty. She’s going to kill me. And I’m going to thank her for it.***

Her hands reached back, caught his wrists, and guided them where she wanted — one over her hip, thumb brushing the curve of her waistband, the other climbing higher, over the swell of her breast, daring him to hold her like she belonged to him in every way that mattered.

And of course she did.

Her voice dropped, sultry and wicked as sin.

“Tell me, Enzo… was it the leather micro dress with the blood-red stilettos…” — she rolled her hips just slightly against him, like punctuation — “…or was it the lavender teddy, matching garter, stockings, and the white platforms?”

Every word aimed straight at the men on the couch.

***Dolcezza. You’re taunting wolves while standing in my arms. Brave. Or suicidal. Probably both.***

She didn’t look at him — her eyes locked on them. On Nico, who sat frozen, jaw clenched. On Gino, whose grin was spreading wide like he’d just been handed ammunition.

“Oh,” Gino cut in, unbothered as hell. “Dom sent me both of those. Super hot, by the way.”

Nico made a noise like he’d just swallowed a knife.

Enzo’s jaw flexed. His hands tightened just enough to remind Lola whose arms she’d chosen. His chin dipped until the sharp cut of his jaw grazed her shoulder, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke.

He let the words fall slow, velvet-dark.

“My favorite…” His thumb dragged over the waistband of her shorts. “…was the one of you in that little yellow plaid sundress…”

Her breath hitched.

“…with Nico’s head between your legs while he laced up your shoes.”

The room detonated.

Dom half-woke with a startled, “What the fuck?” before groaning and collapsing again.

Nico’s head snapped to Enzo so fast it could’ve broken something. “Boss—”

Gino actually howled, slapping his thigh. “Jesus Christ, I knew that sundress was too dangerous!”

***And me? I don’t give a fuck. Let them choke on it. She’s mine. Mine to flaunt, mine to claim, mine to destroy. They can watch. They can sweat. They can twitch. But they’ll never have her.***

Lola’s laugh was low, throaty, vibrating against his chest. She tipped her head back just enough to brush his jaw with her lips, still staring the others down like a queen daring anyone to challenge her throne.

***Fuck. You’re perfect. Wicked little devil. My diavoletta.***

Nico was still staring like he’d just seen a car crash in slow motion. His voice cracked when he finally spoke.

“Enzo—seriously. Is this… is this really okay with you? I’ve known you a long time and—”

Enzo didn’t let him finish. His tone cut sharp, low, final.

“Sorry, Nico. We’ll have to get into it later.”

He slid one arm under Lola, the other over her ass, and in one effortless motion had her thrown over his shoulder like she weighed nothing. She laughed, wild and wicked, hair flying down his back.

Enzo’s palm cracked against her ass, the sound sharp enough to silence the room. She squealed, kicked once, then waved at the guys upside-down like a queen leaving her court.

“There’s something,” Enzo said, voice calm as sin, “that needs my immediate attention.”

And with that, he strode for the hallway—Lola giggling and wriggling on his shoulder, the crew left behind in stunned, disbelieving silence.

Her teeth grazed his hip through his shirt and he barked out a laugh, deep and unguarded.

“Stop trying to bite my ass!”

“Put me down and maybe I will!” she shot back, laughing so hard her words jostled with the bounce of his stride.

“Not a chance. Plus, you don’t actually want me to put you down anyways,” he said, adjusting her higher on his shoulder, hand splayed firmly over the curve of her ass like it was designed for him alone.

***Christ, even when she’s upside down, she’s trying to devour me. And God help me—I want her to.***

She twisted, half-heartedly kicking her legs, squealing like a brat, then softening just as quick—palming the back of his neck, dragging her nails lightly across his skin. Her voice dropped low, just for him, teasing but tender.

“You love it.”

He chuckled, the sound rough and warm all at once. “I love you, Anima gemella (twin soul/soulmate). That’s the problem.”

Her laugh melted, turned quiet, turned real. “Good thing I love you too, L’amore della mia vita (love of my life). Problem solved.”

That one hit him in the ribs, made him squeeze her tighter, carry her faster down the hall like the world was already trying to steal her back. 

She wiggled again, dramatic, hair brushing against his thigh. “Okay but seriously—you’re ruining my circulation.”

“Good,” he said, grin sharp as he nudged their bedroom door open with his boot. “Means you’ll be too weak to fight me when I toss you on the bed.”

“Enzo!” she squealed, laughing, and her joy hit him like sunlight through smoke.

***Mine***.