Page 56 of Does It Hurt?


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“If you’re going to keep rolling every five seconds, can you do that on the floor?” I grouse, my irritation spiking when he shakes the bed for the millionth goddamn time.

“If you’re so bothered, then leave,” he responds, his voice low and deep with unrequited sleep.

He’s as cold as ever, and for the first time, I’m glad for it. His fire is exhausting, and as much as that exhaustion would serve me in getting a good night’s sleep, it’s not worth it when he’s keeping me awake.

I spent hours in that cave today. Lying on the rock and staring up at the mysterious little lights, wondering how nature could produce something so beautiful in such an ugly world.

When I returned to the lighthouse, Enzo was fixing a pipe under the sink while Sylvester stood over him, telling him how to fix something he could never accomplish himself.

Enzo snapped at him, and we spent dinner in awkward silence.

Even now, he’s acting like I don’t exist. Or at least he’s trying to.

And I still haven’t figured out if it bothers me. The pit in my stomach would be a great indicator, but clearly, my body can’t be trusted around him.

He shifts again, and my anger mounts. I turn to face him and shove him. His head whips toward me, and though immediate fear races through my bloodstream, it’s no match for my sleep deprivation.

“Getout,” I bite out through gritted teeth, shoving at him again.

His hands close around my wrists harshly, and it feels like they’re on the verge of snapping like twigs.

And then I’m flipping over his body, off the edge of the bed, and onto the hard ground. I land with athunk, a puff of breath forced out of my throat.

For a moment, all I can do is gape at him, in utter shock that he just tossed me off the bed like a hot potato.

“Merda,” he curses, swiping a hand over his head in frustration, then he stands from the bed and scoops me up. It’s enough to reset my brain and send me spiraling back into my fury.

“Oh, fuck you,” I spit, bucking out of his hold until he’s forced to set me down. Then I’m full-out tackling him. Fuck self-preservation, I’m too furious.

Furious at him for throwing me off the bed, then acting guilty like he didn’t fucking mean to. For going into Sylvester’s room and getting us trapped in that closet. For touching me and making me feel things I shouldn’t feel—that Ican’tfeel.

For messing with my fucking head.

I slap at him wildly, slipping out of his attempts to grab my wrists again a few times before he succeeds, catching hold of them in a bruising grip. Then, I’m being pitched back over the bed, but I quickly grab onto him, taking the asshole with me.

Though, I instantly regret it when he lands on me, another harsh breath being forced from my lungs.

“Goddammit, Sawyer,” he groans. “The fuck is wrong with you?”

“You!” I shout, slapping at him again. “Get off of me, you fucking mammoth.”

“Stop hitting me,” he growls, adjusting until he’s sitting atop me, pinning my hands to the floor, and getting in my face. “You’re acting like a fucking cu—”

“Don’t youdarefinish that sentence or so help me God, I will drown you in that ocean when you’re least expecting it,” I threaten, panting. It’s hard to breathe, but only because his proximity is so damn suffocating.

“Do you honestly think you scare me? A shrimp is more intimidating than you.”

I gasp. “That is so fucking rude.”

He leans in closer, and it’s a regretful discovery to find that I can’t move through solid objects. I try to lean away, but there’s nowhere to go, the floor refusing to become penetrable no matter how hard I press the back of my head into it.

“You want to hear rude, Sawyer? How about the fact that it’s hard to sleep next to a fucking soul-sucking demon? And you being so close makes me sick to my stomach.”

I bristle, a stone forming in the base of my throat. I had thought it was hard to breathe before, but now it feels like I’m chained to the bottom of the ocean. Not only is there no oxygen down here, but there’s so much pressure on top of me, making it impossible to even suck in a breath.

“What’s worse? I canstillsmell you on my fingers, despite washing you clean of me. Now tell me how the hell you expect me to find peace when you’re invading every one of my goddamn senses?”

The ice chips in his eyes are melting, slowly replaced by a fire so strong, it’s radiating from him in waves, burning me up from the inside out and turning the air dense.

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