CHAPTER 4
The bonfire roared twenty yards away, orange flames licking the night sky while the kids’ laughter and the sticky-sweet smell of melting marshmallows drifted through the trees like a taunt.
I was supposed to be helping hand out graham crackers, but Enzo’s hand had brushed mine one too many times when we passed the chocolate, and the look he gave me—dark, hungry, promising—had my p***y throbbing so hard I could barely stand still.
“Boathouse. Now,” he growled low in my ear the second the kids were distracted fighting over the last Hershey bar. His fingers wrapped around my wrist, tugging me backward into the shadows before anyone could notice.
My heart slammed against my ribs as we slipped away, leaves crunching under our sneakers. “Enzo, we’re insane,” I whispered, but I was
