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Does It Hurt?(24)

Author:H. D. Carlton

“You expect me to get in that?” I ask, pointing to the mini prison.

“If you’re feeling brave enough,” he challenges, his deep voice quiet yet wicked. There’s a spark in his eye, though I can’t decipher what the fuck it means.

I was expecting an immediate confrontation when he saw me. Denial was poised on the tip of my tongue, but he’s acting oblivious to his stolen identity.

Most people aren't aware their identity has been stolen until it's too late. He has no reason to suspect me yet. Nothing was missing from his house, and despite his bottom drawer being unlocked, who would stop to consider identity theft?

Relax, Sawyer. He doesn't even look angry.

Well, okay, that’s not entirely true. Enzo wears a perpetual scowl on his face like it’s an oxygen mask and has string beans for his lungs. According to him, it’s what keeps people far, far away and allows him to live his life in peace.

Regardless, allowing him to take me in the middle of the ocean where I quite literally can’t run isn’t one of my brighter ideas. In fact, it’s honestly fucking stupid.

That reminder settles in deep, and I’m beginning to feel all kinds of wrong again. I don’t necessarily feel like I need to fear for my life with Enzo, but I still feel on edge.

I take a step away. “I don’t know about this,” I hesitate.

He stares down at me, silent, but I feel his disappointment anyway. And like a typical adult who grew up deprived of praise and attention from their parents, I'm now seeking those things from a man.

Fuck.

“I’ll give you a kiss as a reward,” he murmurs, his voice deep and seductive.

I put my hands on my hips, hating how alluring that sounds.

“That’s pretty special,” I retort. “You never told me why you won’t kiss me.”

His hazel eyes dance down my profile, wetting his lips before returning to my own. “I don’t kiss anyone. I’ve never met a woman who deserves that intimacy from me.”

I raise my brows. He definitely has mommy issues. But then, I can’t disagree with his logic, either. I’ve always hated kissing my flings for that exact reason. It was just something that always seemed like the natural thing to do when getting a dick rammed inside you. I guess on the bright side, it allowed me to find more interesting ways to utilize Enzo's mouth.

“Until now,” I tack on. “You’re saying you’ll kiss me if I get on that boat?”

He pauses, then says, “Si.”

“You’re lying,” I respond, narrowing my eyes. Another indecipherable emotion flashes in his irises, gone before it can settle.

“Only one way to find out,” he says dryly.

“You think a kiss from you equals getting in a shark cage?” I question with a scoff.

“Si,” he responds readily. Confidently.

I can’t help but laugh, and it actually feels a little nice. His stare locks onto my mouth, zeroing in on it like it’s a fortune ball revealing his future.

“This is something very few people experience, Jamie.”

The smile on my face is uncontrollable. “Kissing you is that special, huh?”

He gives me a dry look. “Getting in a shark cage,” he clarifies, though we both knew that already.

I twist my lips and rock on my toes, contemplating his offer. My muscles are lined with tension, and there’s a deep, uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

I recognize it as guilt. He doesn’t know what I’ve done yet, and this may be the last time I’ll ever see him. And as much as I hate to admit it, I want to spend one more day with him before he hates me forever.

Indecision traps me in a vicious cycle of talking myself out of it, only to convince myself to try it. ’Round and ’round, until I finally settle on an answer.

“Fine. But if I die, make sure it’s before a shark eats me.”

Stoically, he rakes his gaze down my figure, then turns without a word, which feels entirely ominous. He steps on the boat and holds his hand out for mine, a hint of fire in his stare.

I take it.

I’ve never been good at making the right decision.

Salty ocean air whips through my tangled hair as Enzo speeds us through the vast, blue ocean. Anxiety is swirling in my stomach, and it doesn’t matter how many times I wipe my hands on my shorts, they’re still clammy.

I’m not sure how much time has passed, but Port Valen has become a speck. With each passing second, I feel more and more isolated, and my body still can’t figure out who is the one in danger.

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