Does It Hurt?: Chapter 23

“Is she ah’ight?” Sylvester asks from behind me, causing my muscles to tighten impossibly further.

The only response I’m capable of is a grunt.

He mutters something beneath his breath, but it’s too low for me to hear, and frankly, I give zero fucking fucks.

I didn’t sleep last night after Sawyer left me on the beach. I don’t think she did either, but neither of us was willing to break the stilted silence.

I’ve known her for barely over six weeks, and she’s already got me falling at her fucking feet.

Choose me.

She didn’t. Instead, she used sex to distract me and then chose a life of suffering over one with me.

“Got any whiskey left?”

Sylvester grunts as he makes his way toward a cabinet.

“You that bent out of shape over a knock to the head? She’ll be all right, son.”

Every word out of his mouth grates on my nerves, but I keep my mouth glued shut since he’s handing over alcohol.

I swallow it in one gulp, holding the cup out while he pours me another three fingers wordlessly. This time, I sip it, appreciating the maple undertone as it burns a path down my throat.

“Lemme tell ya, women like that don’t come around often,” he remarks conversationally.

“Tell me about it,” I mutter. Not every day you meet a girl that lures you between her thighs and then turns around and steals your fucking identity the next day. Nor is it every day the same girl drags you upward of a mile across the ocean to safety.

She’s walking lightning. Both beautiful and fucking destructive.

“And I want ya to know, if she decides to stay, I’ll make sure she’s well taken care of.”

He might as well have dumped a bucket of ice-cold water over my head. My spine snaps straight, and I set the glass down before I break it.

“Why would she stay?” I ask slowly, turning to give Sylvester my full attention. He’s staring at me with an odd look on his face. It’s smoothed out, yet I can see the truth in his eyes. He’s excited.

“She clearly has no place outside of here, don’t you agree?”

“No,” I retort.

He shrugs, not caring if I agree or not.

“Maybe that’s ’cause you want to keep ’er. But women like that don’t want to be kept.”

“Isn’t that what you want?” I fire back, arching a brow. “To keep her?”

Something flashes across his eyes, an emotion that’s gone before I can place it.

He smiles, revealing blackened teeth.

“Ain’t no sense in keepin’ something that stays willingly. I don’t like possessin’ things, not unless I have to.”

My brows knit. “I don’t think I like what you’re implying.”

He shrugs again. “That’s ’cause you don’t like that she might actually choose me over you.”

What the fuck?

Fury is building in my chest, but instead of releasing it, I pick up my drink and take another sip, staring at him over the rim of the glass. He’s banking on my anger, I can fucking see the anticipation crinkling his eyes. He wants me to snap, so he has the excuse to kick me out.

“Guess we’ll see,” I murmur, holding his stare as I finish off the drink. “Want me to put in a good word for you while I’m in bed with her tonight?”

His features slacken, and his chin dips as he glares at me with a look so ice-cold that it burns. That’s not the type of cold that frosts your insides, it’s the type that blackens them.

”Don’t be inappropriate, son,” he warns. “You should learn some respect. No wonder she runs from you.”

I nod my head, a slight grin slipping free. It’s not very often I feel the urge to smile. But on those rare occasions when I do, it’s because a certain type of madness is being unleashed.

“I know how to catch her,” I drawl, then I glance down at his wooden leg. “Can’t say it’d take much to get away from you, stronzo.”

Despite what many would believe, I’m not one to fight. Most aren’t stupid enough to push me to that point, and I’ve never fucking cared enough to get that angry anyway. Yet, at this very moment, I’m imagining the different ways I could make Sylvester squeal like the pig he is.

And as much as I want to, I know better than to risk getting kicked out more than I already have. I need Sawyer somewhere warm and safe; this place is only safe as long as I’m around. I’ll be fucking damned if I leave her alone in this lighthouse with a goddamn lonely creep. I know the sick fuck jacks off to the thought of her, and if I ever hear or see it, I’ll remove the useless appendage my-goddamn-self.

I push away from the counter and walk past him, glaring down at his much shorter stature as I pass. He keeps quiet, even as I climb the steps.

But I don’t miss his muttered words right as I reach the top.

You haven’t been able to yet.

Sawyer is dressed in a t-shirt and her bathing suit bottoms when I walk into the room, curled in a tight ball with her back to me.

Careful not to wake her yet, I grab the lighthouse book lying haphazardly on the floor. She reads it every night before going to bed, and every morning when she disappears to her cave, I do the same.

We’re both quietly determined to find the beacon. I would guess she doesn’t trust Sylvester any more than I do. There’s something off about him and this crumbling lighthouse. Too many people have died here, and the common denominator for those tragic events seems to be Sylvester. And I’m less inclined to believe it’s simply bad luck.

Now that he’s taken an interest in Sawyer, I’m even more determined to get her off this damn island.

Just as I sit on the edge of the bed to read, Sawyer’s soft voice pipes up.

“There was a boat yesterday.”

My head snaps to her quick enough to break it. “Come again?”

“It was too foggy for them to see us. But ships come by here more often than he implied, and I think if we find the light, we can figure out a way to get their attention next time. At the very least, I’m sure you have people looking for you. Maybe we can see about reaching out to one of them to rescue you.”

My brow furrows, and I stare at her while I process what the fuck she just said. She’s staring sightlessly at the stone wall, and it feels like looking at the real Sawyer. The one who isn’t as bright and chipper as she would like people to believe.

“Me?” I repeat. “You mean us?”

Her lips tighten. “I think I might stay here,” she says. “I know you asked me to choose you, but choosing you means dragging you into the mess I’ve created. If I stay, I won’t need to steal from anyone anymore. I won’t need to keep running.”

I’m shaking my head before she even finishes the first sentence.

“Absolutely not,” I bark, shooting to my feet. There’s a restless energy buzzing in my bones. My fists clench and unclench, a useless attempt to abate the way my body is beginning to vibrate.

She doesn’t move. Doesn’t look at me. She seems tired in this moment, and I know… I know it has everything to do with me this time.

“You want to keep me because you hate me. I get it,” she says quietly. Emotionlessly. “You want to punish me because I remind you of your mother. But please, just give me this. Give me freedom.”

“This isn’t freedom,” I argue. “This is just as much a prison and one that could get you killed.”

She shrugs. “So what if it does?”

I glower, my fury growing hotter.

“Don’t do that. Don’t suddenly give up when—”

“Didn’t I already tell you? I’m a coward, and I run. If you care about me at all, Enzo, you will let me stay here. Bringing me back to Port Valen… you’re asking me to either go to a real prison or go back to stealing.”

I’ll take care of you.

The words are on the tip of my tongue, but I can’t voice them. We hardly know each other, and we’ve spent most of our time together fucking, fighting, or just trying to survive. We have little trust in one other, and fuck, she’s a goddamn fugitive. I don’t see how a future could possibly work between us. Yet, the thought of leaving her behind is enough to send me into a blind rage. The thought of going back to Port Valen alone… without her—it’s unfathomable.

“And anyway,” she continues before I can respond, feigning a lightness in her tone that I know she doesn’t feel. “I think Sylvester wants me to stay.”

“Because he’s a goddamn creep,” I snap heatedly.

“He is,” she agrees, nodding her head.

And that’s it. That’s all she has to say.

I shake my head, mind-blown that she isn’t scared of him like she should be.

That’s when her gaze finally flits to me. She forces a smile—a weak one—in an attempt to placate me.

“Don’t worry, I’m used to living with a creep. I know how to handle them.”

“That’s the problem, bella,” I say, giving in to my baser instincts and climbing onto the bed next to her. Her eyes round at the corners, but it only makes me want to crawl closer. I lie down next to her, and even though a large part of me is angry with her, there’s an even bigger part of me that can’t let her go.

“You should have never been put in that position, and you sure as fuck should never have to get used to someone so fucking vile.”

She blinks, her eyes glassy. Tipping her chin down, she mutters, “What do you expect me to do? I don’t have any other choice.”

I close my eyes, and even though I’m giving in to her, it doesn’t bother me as much as I thought it would.

“I’m going to protect you, Sawyer,” I promise her. Her eyes shoot back to mine, once more widening with surprise.

“I don’t agree with how you live your life, but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand. You’re not a fucking coward. You’ve been fighting your entire life and deserve rest.”

Her bottom lip trembles and she captures it between her pretty white teeth. Once more, I’m hit with the craving to taste them. It’s not just a want, it’s a need.

“You can’t let them find me,” she whispers.

“The only one who will ever find you is me, Sawyer. You can hide from everyone else, but you can’t hide from me.”

She stares up at me with bewilderment, struggling to accept what I’m saying. I’m struggling to accept it myself, but it feels right. Even when Sawyer did me wrong, nothing about her ever felt that way.

“Why would you help me?”

It’s dangerous to touch her, but I’m incapable of stopping myself. I brush a few curled strands from her face, tucking them behind her ear. She shivers beneath my touch, only encouraging the hunger coursing through my system. It’s not enough—it never is, but it’s all I can give right now.

“Because I feel so much for you, Sawyer.”

I allow myself one little taste and lean in until her scent envelops me. She smells of the salty ocean and something sweet. A tiny gasp feathers across my lips, and I know what she’s thinking.

Moving my hand to the back of her neck, I grip tight to hold her in place, though she has gone completely still anyway.

“Don’t move,” I warn her, a shaky exhale her only response.

My mouth brushes against hers, and I dart out my tongue to lick the bow of her upper lip, nearly groaning from the minty taste on her breath.

Moving to the side of her mouth, I place a gentle kiss on the corner and then another farther up her cheek.

“Is it hate?” she croaks, trembling beneath my touch.

“I don’t hate you,” I say. Another kiss.

“And you deserve to have a life. A real one.” Kiss.

“Come back with me, bella.” Kiss. This one is salty from the single tear that has slipped from her eye.

“Is that what you really want?” she asks, her voice hoarse. “What will I do then? I have no way to support myself wi—”

“You’ll work for me.”

She jerks back, staring at me with bugged eyes. “Absolutely not. I will not get in the water with those… those beasts.”

The laugh bursts from my throat before I can even think to stop it. It causes us both to freeze, but fuck, if I’m breaking the rules tonight, I might as well break all of them.

She lifts up, her fingers smoothing across my lips with wonder.

“Do that again.”

“Absolutely not,” I say, though the lingering grin refuses to disappear completely. There’s a glimmer in her eye, and it’s the first time I’ve seen it since I’ve met her. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say Sawyer is actually happy right now. And the way that collectively makes my chest tighten and want to laugh like a maniac just to see it brighten is concerning to say the fucking least.

”Despite what I did to you on the boat, I have no interest in turning you into shark food.”

With the reminder, her hand slips away, and a shadow falls over her face.

“That was really shitty.”

“It was,” I agree, feeling the regret I swore I’d never feel. “Most would say shittier than you deserved.”

She raises her brows. “Would you say that?”

After a pause, I admit, “Yes. You didn’t deserve that.”

Her eyes narrow. “Then say you’re sorry.”

My gaze falls to her parted mouth, those pink lips puffy and smooth, before returning to her baby blues.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur, letting her see how genuine I am. Because I am sorry. I assaulted her, and we both know that. I imagine if my mother stuck around, she would’ve left me then if she knew I treated a woman like that.

She smiles, wide and bright, like the sunshine peeking through storm clouds after a massive storm.

“I don’t forgive you,” she quips, quickly rolling out of my embrace and taking advantage of my stunned silence. Then, she’s backing away and bumping against the round table, leaning against it with her fingers laced. There’s a beast inside me that’s on the verge of lashing out and trapping her beneath me once more.

“Not until you properly apologize to me,” she finishes.

My brows lower, and I straighten, resting on my knees while I silently stare, waiting for her to explain what she means.

“You’ve been an unbearably raging asshole to me this entire time. Yes, I fucked up, but you’re, like… really fucking mean, and you’ve hurt my feelings more than I care to admit.”

I nod slowly. “You’re right.”

Feeling invigorated, she forges on, “If you want me to stay with you—choose you—then I want you to get on your knees and apologize for how you’ve been treating me,” she tells me, pointing to the floor for extra measure.

I suck my bottom lip between my teeth, trapping the flesh and biting down hard. An insidious feeling is rising in my chest. It’s dark and wicked, and it makes me want to fucking smile. I want to grab her by the throat and unleash every one of my darkest desires onto her flesh—with my teeth, my hands, and my cock.

It’s also pride, desire, and the unbending need to give her everything she wants.

Because fuck, am I proud of her for making me beg for her forgiveness.

Sawyer deserves better than what I’ve done to her. We’re both broken in our own ways, and instead of seeing that and understanding her, I let my own hurt control me. And all it’s done is cause her pain.

I’m still withholding my own forgiveness for what she’s done—stealing someone’s entire life to do with as they please is not a tiny fuck-up. And there’s still a part of me that doesn’t trust her yet—that feels like I’m the same fool who took her behind the waterfall, only to be robbed of the most important thing to me. She could’ve gotten me into some serious trouble if she was careless enough with my identity, which ultimately could’ve fucked with my research and everything I’ve worked so fucking hard for.

So, while I’m not entirely ready to give her those things, it doesn’t change how I feel about her. It doesn’t change that she doesn’t deserve my wrath nor my cruelty.

I will always want to cause her pain, but I find no satisfaction in her misery. No, the only thing I want to see when I have her trapped between my teeth is that bright fucking smile.

Silently, I get off the bed and stand at my full height, towering a solid foot above her, her petite stature barely reaching my chest. Her eyes are wide, but the challenge in them is undeniable.

The tension between us crackles, little fireworks detonating around us as I come to a stop before her.

Her blonde curls are wild around her face, falling past her heaving chest. It reminds me of when a wave breaks and forms that perfect curl that surfers strive for. There are so many of them within the strands of her hair, and I want to dive between each one.

She’s vibrating from the energy as I slowly approach, but my little thief stands her ground, only tipping her chin up as I near.

When I’m within a foot of her, I drop to my knees, my blood heating when her lips part, an almost inaudible gasp slipping free.

“I’m sorry, bella,” I start, keeping my voice low and serious while I look up at her, ensnaring her gaze within my own. She stands tall before me, her spine straight and shoulders back. “I’ve been punishing you for something you didn’t do—something beyond stealing an identity. I’ve been making you hurt because I’m hurt, but you’re not the one who broke me. And it was never my right to break you.”

She studies me closely, picking apart every detail that makes up my face. My hair has grown, and my beard has thickened, but I wonder if she can see someone different beyond my appearance.

Can she see a man falling in love with a little thief? Can she see that I don’t want to but will submit to it anyway? Just as I’m submitting to her now.

“You’re not the one who broke me, either,” she whispers finally, settling back onto my eyes.

“No, but that didn’t stop me from trying.”

I reach out and grab her hand, enraptured by how tiny it is compared to my own. How delicate and soft she is on the outside, but on the inside, she’s a force to be reckoned with.

She’s so goddamn resilient.

She’s better than me—stronger than me.

I wanted to take all her broken pieces, and fucking shatter them—turn them into dust so she could never be whole again.

I realize now how foolish it was when I could take those pieces and give them a home amongst my own.

“You are good enough, Sawyer. You’re nothing like I said you were, and everything I said you weren’t. You’re strong and brave, and above all else, you’re admirable.”

Her eyes become glassy, and she looks away, blinking rapidly while crooking her finger beneath her eye. “Can you, like, not make me cry right now, please? I’m trying to look like a badass.”

The corner of my lip tips up. She makes me smile, too, but that’s something I’d rather show her than tell her.

“Will you forgive me, bella?” I ask, my tone hushed.

She refocuses on me, her eyes not any less wet. “No,” she declares, but the corners of her mouth curl, and there’s a mischievous glint swirling in the depths of her irises.

“I want you to kiss my favorite toe first.”

I quirk a brow, and she lifts her left foot and points to her pinkie toe. “Kiss it, Enzo.”

I lick my lips, curling my bottom lip between my teeth as I sweep my gaze back up to her. Her mouth parts when she notes the heat in my eyes.

“If worshiping you is what you ask, I’d be happy to spend the rest of my life on my knees,” I tell her, my voice dipped so low, it’s nearly unrecognizable.

Her throat bobs as she works to swallow while I grab her dainty foot, bringing it to my lips. Gently, I kiss her pinkie toe, feeling her shiver beneath me.

Then, I replace my lips with my teeth, delivering a soft bite and earning a gasp. She will bring me to my knees, and I will bring her pain.

For extra measure, I kiss the other four, too, before straightening my spine and meeting her stare. Her pupils are dilated, and her chest heaves as she drops her foot, attempting to appear collected.

But I can still smell her sweet cunt, and how it weeps for me.

“I don’t forgive you yet,” she says quietly.

I keep silent, feeling the challenge weaved in her statement. I should’ve known it wouldn’t be so easy, and it only makes me want to dig my knees further into the ground and stay in this place until she allows me to stand.

“Would you like me to crawl to you, bella?” I question, gravel lining my throat. “Bow at your feet and find a home beneath you? Or would you like to climb onto my back, where I will serve you and take you to places with a point of your finger?”

“Would you?” she volleys back, lifting off the table and circling me until she’s at my back. I keep still, though I can feel her every move, every breath. “Would you cater to my every need, no matter what I ask of you?”

“You will need for nothing, amore mio. Ti darò tutto.”

I hear her sharp intake of breath, then feel her coming closer, bending at the waist until warmth fans across my ear. My fists curl, clenching tightly to abate the need to grab her by the hair and fling her over my shoulder so I can show her just how well I will cater to her.

“Good boy,” she whispers, her voice sultry and teasing.

My bottom lip rolls beneath my teeth again, and I bite hard while my cock thickens. A growl forms deep in my chest, but she knows I won’t unleash it. Not until she asks me to.

Standing, she circles around until she’s before me once more, and there’s softness around the corners of her eyes. She’s at peace, and I hadn’t realized how much I needed to see that.

“Does this mean you’re going to be nice to me now?” she asks, giving me another mischievous smile.

I feel my lips twitch again, but I manage to refrain. I do plan on giving her everything, just not today.

“I will never be nice to you, bella ladra,” I swear, raking my eyes over her profile. Her nipples are pebbled beneath her ratty t-shirt, and a flush forms low on her neck, traveling up to her cheeks.

Her thighs are clenched, as if that’s going to make her pussy any less wet.

“Didn’t the nuns teach you manners?”

“They didn’t tolerate disrespect. But I didn’t tolerate authority. It took many years for us to find a middle ground with mutual respect.”

“Until now,” she corrects. “Now I have the authority.”

I arch a brow but concede. “You do.”

She preens, while my cock begs to be released.

“I still find it odd that nuns raised you,” she continues.

I shrug, staying on my knees. She hasn’t asked me to stand yet.

“I don’t believe in God, but I do believe they were saints for putting up with me.”

She sniffs. “Well, I don’t either, but if Heaven exists, they’ve definitely earned their place dealing with you. You’re a naturally mean person.”

The corner of my mouth twitches again when I see how dilated her eyes are. If I lean in between her thighs, I know I would smell her. I’m at the perfect height to do so.

But she’s injured and messing around with her yesterday was already pushing things.

“Naturally,” I repeat dryly.

She clears her throat, wiping her hands on her t-shirt. “Well, that apology was very big of you, Enzo,” she compliments. “But you can, like, get up now.”

It’s getting harder to contain my grin. I stand, and she steps back into the table, causing the legs to screech against the wood floor. She looks me up and down, reminded of how much bigger I am than her. She also glimpses how hard I am for her, deepening that pretty flush on her rosy cheeks.

“I’m going to get some water, and then… then I’m going to, like, sleep or something. But tomorrow, I want to look for the beacon.”

I dip my chin. “For us both to leave,” I push, wanting to hear her agreement out loud.

She rolls her lips, rocking back and forth on her toes.

“For us both,” she says finally.

I let my smirk loose just a little when she steps around me, nearly bumping into the table again to get past. She could’ve gone the other way and had plenty of room. Whether she realizes it or not, she gravitates toward me just as I do her.

I grab her bicep, stopping her. A visceral desire to take her nearly sends me plummeting back down to my knees, and I know that if I succumb to it, she will be standing above me, her cunt resting on my lips.

Feeling her so close, yet unable to fuck her, is like asking a predator to turn its back on their prey, starved and desperate for just a taste.

“Lay down. I’ll get the water and some medicine,” I order her, my voice raspy with carnal need. I give her another once-over. “Maybe find some pants while I’m gone. I can smell your pussy from here.”

Her mouth drops. “You are so sleeping on the floor tonight.”

For her, I would.