Does It Hurt? (21)
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.
After what feels like forever, the boat finally slows to a crawl. I had opted to feel the wind lashing at my face instead of staying in the closed-in area where he drives.
Right behind me is an open area where several oxygen tanks and scuba gear line the walls, along with a couple of benches to sit on while getting dressed.
“Nervous?” he asks, stepping down onto the deck.
“We’re in the middle of a big bowl of monster soup. I’m pretty sure I should’ve brought diapers.” I’m not even embarrassed by that. Enzo claims he gave me the best fuck of my life—and he’s not wrong—but I’d wager that I did the same for him. So, who cares if I need a diaper when I am to be facing a massive beast soon?
He may be incredible in bed, but I guarantee these monsters are far scarier than the one between his legs.
He shakes his head and stalks toward the side where there’s a massive anchor. He begins to lower it while I turn to stare out at the horizon. It’s so easy to feel like you’re alone out here. Yet, I’m surrounded by life. So much life.
Enzo was right—being in the middle of the ocean absolutely does make you feel tiny. It stretches as far as my eyes can see no matter which direction I turn, and I don’t even want to see what’s below the surface.
When I manage to drag my eyes away from the glittering water, I find Enzo prowling toward me, and my body tightens with anticipation. For a brief second, my heart suspends in my chest, convinced he’s about to throw me overboard, but instead, he grabs a gray bucket by my feet.
He's so intense, he would have a slug stiffening when he comes near.
I’m confused about what he’s doing until he opens the container. My cheeks blow wide, vomit rising up my throat. The bucket is full of… guts. Bloody chunks of entrails.
Lifting the bucket, he proceeds to dump it in the ocean, the crimson immediately clouding the water.
“How… how long does it take them to get here?”
He shrugs. “Shouldn’t be too long. Sharks have an incredible sense of smell.”