Does It Hurt? (25)
He scoffs, shaking his head. “Why not just get a job at sixteen like a normal fucking person? Why even dig yourself in a hole like that to begin with?”
I glare at him and conjure the energy to stand. Oxygen flows through my lungs like they were never full of water, but I’m still shaking like a leaf.
“You know nothing about me. If you want to think I’m a petty criminal who only does it for the thrill, fine. But don’t insult us both by making ignorant assumptions about me.”
He snarls, and my stomach tightens with fear. The sharks seemed to have grown bored and are wandering off, but that doesn’t mean he still can’t throw me overboard and let them find me again.
Glowering, he runs a hand through his hair, visibly frustrated.
“Was I calling you by another man’s name this entire time? When I fucked you?”
Again, my stomach tightens, only for different reasons. Namely, because any reminder of him inside me has my face burning, and I hate that because of what he just did to me. And how badly I still feel humiliated.
I look down, and that’s answer enough.
“What’s your real name?” he demands.
I don’t want to tell him. There’s a chance I can escape once we get on land. Make a run for it and somehow slip from his fingers. I can find somewhere else to hide in Australia until I’m ready to risk flying again.
There’s still a chance of survival, and if he wants to figure out my name after I’m well and gone, all the power to him. I’m sure there are plenty of articles about me, though he won’t find many truths in those, either.
When I continue to hesitate, he stalks toward me, causing my muscles to stiffen and my throat to thicken.
I stumble away from him, but I’m already backed into the corner, leaning against the side of the boat. He advances until he’s pressed into me, his arms trapping me against his heated body.
“Guardami,” he orders sharply.
I shake my head, not understanding him but knowing that whatever it is, I don’t want to do it. I suck my bottom lip between my teeth in an effort to hide how it quivers.
Enzo reaches up and grips my jaw, forcing my eyes to him. Snarling, I still try to put distance between us, but his strength prevails over my weak attempt.
“I want to know the name I should’ve been moaning that night.”
Tears are rising again. Not because he’s hurting me, but because I see my chances of getting away slipping through my fingers like water in my palms.
Screwing my eyes shut, a tear slips through, but they quickly pop open when he leans forward and gently kisses the tear. Pulling away, he licks the droplet off his lips.
“Those tears—they’re mine now. And I’ll pull plenty more out of you if you don’t tell me what I want to know.”
Jesus. Fucking psychopath.
“Candace,” I bark out.
“Last name?”
I stutter, unable to think of anything quick enough.
His lips slide along my cheek, whispering, “I'm getting impatient, baby.”
Tears swim in my eyes, and as badly as I want to give him another false name, all I can think is that lying about my name isn’t worth getting eaten alive over.
“Sawyer,” I rush out finally, followed by another useless attempt to pull my face out of his grip.
“Sawyer,” he repeats slowly, my name sounding like roses and chocolate on his tongue. “Is that another lie, bella ladra?”
“No,” I snap.
“Last name?”
“Bennett,” I mutter.
He hums, something poised on the tip of his tongue, but then his eyes are snapping above my head.
“Fuck,” he curses, ripping himself away from me and hurrying toward where he dropped the anchor.
Confused, I turn around, wondering what the hell could make him react like that—and then immediately wish I hadn’t.
The horizon is nearly black. Storm clouds are coming in fast, and from here, I can see the waves growing choppier and bigger. The water beneath us has already become more turbulent, though I’m sure this is mild compared to what’s ahead.
“Enzo?” I call out, concerned and wary. My poor heart can’t take all this stress. I still haven’t recovered from nearly getting my head bitten off by a shark, and now this.
“Let me concentrate,” he snaps, working on pulling up the anchor. Just as he says that, a strike of lightning appears in the quickly approaching storm, yanking a gasp from my throat.
Despite our very concerning situation, I want to fucking laugh. So badly, I want to laugh.
A smile cracks on my face when he throws the heavy metal on the boat and rushes toward the wheel. He catches sight of my face but doesn’t let up on his mission.
“Something funny, Sawyer?” he asks, ensuring to use my name. I don’t know if it’s to reassert power, or what, but it has the smile slipping from my face like melted wax.
“You brought me out here to make me think I’m going to die. And now look, we’re both going to die.”
Chapter 8
Enzo
The boat groans and the wheel in my hand slips as a powerful wave rocks into us, salty water pouring over into the hull. The cage on the back swings, the heavy weight working against us as we sway dangerously side to side. Sweat gathers along my hairline as I fight to keep us from going under.