Does It Hurt?: An Enemies to Lovers Romance

“Where the hell are you going?”

The question is out of my mouth before I can think it through. Seems there’s very fucking little I think through when it comes to her.

It’s been a week since we got stuck in the closet, and every day since then, she disappears somewhere for most of the day. Leaving after breakfast and not returning until the evening. She acts normal enough, joking with Sylvester but then ignoring my existence at night, keeping her back turned to me even in sleep.

She doesn’t talk about where she goes, and as each day passes, my curiosity burns hotter. 

Maybe it’s because I don’t like being here alone with Sylvester all damn day, though I’ve found plenty to fix around this place to keep me occupied. Or maybe it’s because I don’t like that she’s found an escape.

Slowly, Sawyer turns to face me, halfway out the door with a stony look painted on her face.

Her skin is beginning to pale, indicating she’s not spending as much time in the sun. This island is nothing but rocks. There’s nowhere to go but up.

“None of your business,” she snips, shutting the door behind her before I can respond.

A booming laugh needles into my skin, filling my muscles with tension and my body with anger. Clenching my jaw, I turn my head to stare at Sylvester, who is leaning against the counter drinking coffee.

“Something funny, stronzo?” I ask. He frowns, not understanding what I called him, and I have no inclination to clue him in.

We don’t get along, though neither of us has outright spoken of our distaste for each other. He doesn’t like that I show him little respect, and I just don’t like him.

“Girl’s gotta mouth on her. Haven’t been around people much the past several decades, but it’s always interestin’ to see how feisty women are these days when I do come across ’em. Met a few women on deck when the cargo ships come ’round, and boy, they give those men a run for their money.”

He’s trying to have a conversation.

I turn my glare back to the door.

I don’t like having conversations. Least of all with him. 

Standing, I toss over my shoulder, “I’ll be back later.”

Sylvester just grumbles, clearly displeased with my manners. He’s not a meek man, but it’s become increasingly evident over the past week that he keeps the peace with me for Sawyer’s sake.

He likes her. And I don’t fucking like that about him, either.

By the time I get outside, she’s nowhere in sight. Even after walking for several minutes, I don’t see her climbing on any of the cliffs or sprawled across the jagged rocks like I’d half expect. Nothing about her screams graceful.

By the time I circle the entire island and still can’t find her, there’s a seed of concern sprouting in the pit of my stomach, slowly taking root as the minutes pass by.

Where the fuck could she have gone?

This island isn’t that big. There are only so many places to hide. We had to have somehow missed each other, and she’s already made her way back to the lighthouse.

Just as I’m about to give up and head back, I catch sight of a big hole smack in the center of a cliff.

And suddenly, it dawns on me why she’s been getting paler, how she has seemed to have disappeared without a trace.

It’s a goddamn cave.

Something about her keeping that from me pisses me off.

Then again, everything about her accomplishes that without even trying.

Lord knows how big it is, and she could’ve easily gotten hurt and would’ve had no way to let me know. As the scenarios play out of all the ways she could’ve gotten herself in some type of trouble, my fury only heightens while I make my way into the cave. I can’t see shit, but I’m conscious of each step as I descend. I reach flat ground and charge through a tunnel, a bright blue glow emitting from beyond.

I’m annoyed enough that the beauty of the cave hardly registers once I emerge on the other side. My only focus is finding Sawyer, ensuring she’s not hurt, and then leaving again.

Curiosity satisfied.

Sounds pointless even in my own fucking head.

I stalk through the cave, stopping briefly to note the blue pool of water, before continuing to search for the constant thorn in my side.

“What are you doing down here?” a quiet voice asks from behind me. I turn around, finding Sawyer standing there, her wild curls around her face.

“This is where you’ve been going?”

“You know the song “Obsessed” by Mariah Carey? I think she knew what she was doing when she wrote it,” she says in place of an answer.

My brow furrows. “What?”

She walks past me and heads toward the pool, humming the tune to the song. “I’m just saying, obsession comes with some serious side effects. Might want to keep that in check before you turn into a murderous psycho.”

I’m silent for a beat before asking, “Who says I’m not already?”

She seems to freeze for several seconds before she aimlessly kicks her foot against the rock floor.

“You could be. Are you here to murder me, Enzo? Is it because I don’t return your affections?”

“Baby, if anyone were to become obsessed with you, it would only be for what’s between your thighs, not because you have anything else to offer.”

She doesn’t respond.

She always has something to say until she’s faced with the truth of her character and actions.

“Why are you here, Enzo? This is my safe space, and you’re… making it unsafe.”

Instead of answering, I finally take in her safe space. It would be pitch black in here if it weren’t for the luminous ceiling and glowing pool in the middle.

È davvero bellissima. I can appreciate anything that is not of the human or man-made variety. 

Tourists pay hundreds of dollars to visit caves like this. The chances of having one on this tiny, abandoned island are incredible.

“Do you know what’s hanging above your head?” I ask.

She turns her head, giving me her side profile. It’s enough to tell me she’s interested, and still, I’m not sure why the fuck I’m here, either.

“Glowworms.”

Her mouth drops a moment before her gaze shoots up, head now tilted back as she stares at the deceitful little creatures.

I expected her to squeal, be grossed out, but Sawyer always does the opposite of what I expect. Without looking away, she stands as if trying to get closer to them.

“Might want to close that before one drops in.” 

Her mouth snaps shut, the click of her teeth audible from several feet away.

“Why do they glow like that?” she asks with wonder.

“It’s a secretion to attract prey.”

She gasps, and I continue, “These caves are in New Zealand, too. They’re actually silk strings that come from egg larvae. They regurgitate mucus onto them and turn them into strings of watery, reflective droplets. Then, they light them up with their tails and attract mayflies. Thinner than a strand of hair, and they can break, so watch your mouth.”

Once more, it closes. I don’t think she even realized her mouth had fallen open again. Can’t help but admit that seeing one land in the cavernous space that produces all her lies would feel like a form of justice.

On cue, her lips slowly begin to part again.

Casting a glance in my direction, she asks, “How do you know all of this? Are you a walking encyclopedia?”

I shrug. “I studied a lot of things when I was getting my degree.”

She hums distractedly. “Who knew worm secretion could be so pretty?”

I approach her, enjoying the way her body senses mine. The cords of muscle swelling with tension along her dainty shoulders and the way her bones seem to stiffen.

I like that she feels me. Fears me.

Stealing from me is the worst she’ll ever do to me, but I will do so much worse to her. 

She backs away from the pool as I near, dropping her head to watch me.

I like that, too. Making her so nervous, that she can’t take her eyes off me whenever I come close to her.

Only makes me want to get closer so I can hear her breath quicken and see those baby blues darken.

I’ll admit—I was wrong earlier. Her sweet pussy isn’t the only thing that is addicting. Not when her fear is just as appetizing.

“Have you ever been to New Zealand?” she asks in a hushed tone, a useless attempt to distract herself.

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Never had a reason to.”

“Not even for the glowworms?”

“No.”

She quietens, the air growing dense with tension so thick, I can feel every shift of her body within my own.

I hear her swallow. “Are you going to hurt me?”

“Si,” I say, my cock growing hard from just the thought of it.

“What… what are you going to do?” Her voice wobbles, the words pitching and sinking with fear.

A corner of my lips curls up. “Now, why would I tell you that?”

She turns away, and I study the way she stares straight ahead, beyond the pool and into her own mind, likely imagining all the ways I could hurt her.

A shot of excitement leaks down through my chest as I circle behind her and press into her back. She sucks in a sharp breath, feeling my cock resting against the swell of her ass. She’s solid stone as I lean down and brush my mouth across her ear.

“That’s what makes it so fun,” I murmur, lingering for a beat so I can memorize the way her lip trembles.

“Are you going to try to fuck me?” she spits.

“No, bella ladra. I’ll never fuck you again, not even when you beg me to.”

She scoffs, her upper lip curling with disgust. “I would never.”

Reaching around her, I grab her jaw and force her head to the side, her glassy blue eyes catching hold of mine. 

Not good enough. I want those tears spilling over.

I squeeze tighter, and utter bliss releases in my bloodstream when a tear wiggles lose.

Now, that’s a sight that can make any man come undone. 

I lean closer, my lips a mere inch from hers.

“You’re already so close, bugiarda. All I would need to do is kiss these pretty lips, and the words would be slipping off your tongue before you could stop it.” Releasing her jaw, I grab her hand and force it between her thighs. “Feel,” I order.

“No,” she bites out, anger boiling in her glare.

“I wasn’t asking,” I snarl, my voice dropping lower with warning. “Feel for yourself, or I will.”

Swallowing, she tucks her fingers into the side of her shorts for half a second and then quickly slips them out. She resists as I grab her hand and raise it high for both of us to see, the evidence of her arousal reflecting the luminosity from above on her fingertips, turning them bright aqua.

“Look at that. You can glow, too.”

Then, I step away, saying nothing else as I make my way out of the cave and toward the lighthouse. She’ll stay behind, embarrassed and ashamed, and won’t dare show her face for a while.

Plenty of time to make myself come to the image of that tear falling past her eyes.