“What happened?”

I glanced away, a cold glass of water suddenly thrown over me. “Nothing,” I said, shoving him away and sitting up. “Get out so I can shower.”

“I can do a better job.”

“Out!” I snapped. “Go home already. Why are you even here?”

Enzo didn’t answer me. Instead, his lips pressed into a straight line, and he watched as I struggled to stand up. I forced myself to keep moving. Damn, Chelsea had really drunk me under the table, and she was still perfectly fine. The woman was a demon. I stepped into the shower and groaned as the first spray of warm water caressed my skin.

I glanced at the curtain before I gave in to my curiosity and peeked through the slit. Enzo had taken a seat on the toilet lid I’d just been perched on. He’s really not going anywhere, is he? What was his deal? I hadn’t seen the man in days, and now he was refusing to leave. My stomach clenched as I realized in horror that I was comforted by that fact. I liked that he was ignoring me, that he wasn’t going away.

Sighing, I snatched up the bar of soap and started getting to work as I tried not to think of why I was losing my damn mind. I was way too drunk to over-analyze myself like this and I didn’t want to run into any uncomfortable truths. I focused on getting washed up. When I stepped from the tub, Enzo had a towel waiting, draped over his lap. He was staring at his phone, and my eyes swept over it quickly.

I could use that. Maybe I can get it from him.

I brushed away the wet, icky feeling that ran down my spine from that thought and stepped forward. When I reached for the towel, Enzo stood up and wrapped it around my body instead. He ran the cloth over me, collecting up droplets of water as his breath feathered over my flesh. My cock ached, and somehow, I forgot how to breathe.

“You’re going to hyperventilate,” he informed me. “Breathe.”

I let out a big breath of air and the corner of his mouth ticked up, doing fucked up things to my insides. Enzo turned me toward the sink after he made sure the towel was tucked into place tightly and passed me my toothbrush. He swiped toothpaste on it and patted my ass.

“Brush.”

“You’re bossy,” I noted. I shoved the toothbrush into my mouth. “And -nnonying.”

“Mmm-hmm,” he said, not paying me a lick of attention. He just stared.

I tried to ignore him, but it was impossible not to squirm under his spectacled gaze. Heat rushed through me, and I cursed the alcohol in my system. That was the only reason I would ever be into him. Yeah, that’s it. I’m just drunk and horny. Anyone would want to fuck a man that looked like that. But I know the real him. No way I want anything to do with that.