Page 105 of Hexed
“So?”
He groans, rubbing his hands over his face, and then he straightens, determination lighting his features. He steps fully into the room, his hand forcing the door open and making me stumble back.
I stiffen my spine, because who the hell does he think he is?
“It will make you feel better,” he promises.
“Is it Aria’s head on a stick?” I grin wickedly at him.
He cuts me a look. “Close, but no.”
Well, now I’m really curious.
I purse my lips and weigh my options. “Still, no. Thanks for asking, though.”
Spinning around, I intend to head for my bed, but Enzo grasps my arm and stops me in my tracks. He twirls me back easily.
Everything he does with me seems to be effortless.
He runs his fingers up my arm, goose bumps sprouting in their wake, and then grasps my chin. “I wasn’tasking, piccola sirena.”
His deep voice vibrates through me like static electricity.
“I’m not going anywhere with you,” I argue. “And to be completely honest, I think it’s really presumptuous andsucha man thing to tell me what to do and then, on top of that fact, to even?—”
I screech when Enzo lifts me by the hips, throwing my body over his shoulder and locking my legs in place before whirling around and carrying me out the door to my apartment and down the spiral staircase.
Blood rushes to my head as I bang my fists against his back, and I cannot stand the way his muscles ripple with every step, my body jostling as he makes his way across the hall and then opens the wood panel to the basement.
My surprise is down here?
“Stop fidgeting.” He smacks my upper thigh, and the breath whooshes from my lungs at the sting, arousal flaring deep in my core.
I do, but not because I’m listening to his direction; it’s only because I’m afraid if he smacks me again, he’ll be able to feel wetness dripping down the inside of my thighs from how turned on this whole thing is making me. I may be pissed off at him, but I’m notdead.
By the time we make it all the way to the basement, I’m resting my elbow on Enzo’s shoulder, propping my chin on my palm.
Scotty’s by the door to my aquarium room, and I beam at him. “Hey, cutie.”
He chuckles, straightening and opening the door, and Enzo marches us right in.
It isn’t until we’re in the room that he finally sets me down, and he does it torturously slowly, the front of my body sliding along the front of his, every inch connected with just a thin layer of fabric separating our skin.
The air thickens, and heat flares through every single part of me. My eyes meet his, and my insides flutter from the way he’s staring.
I don’t say anything because I’m afraid of what will happen if I do, especially since I’m supposed to be mad at him, so instead I turn away—and there’s my gift, front and center and absolutely perfect.
Enzo hovers behind my back, his body heat wrapping around me like a cocoon, and suddenly, I’m not so angry at him anymore.
“Surprise,” he whispers.
My father is bound to the torture table, gagged, bruised, and bloody.
“You really did bring me a gift,” I murmur, taking a stride forward.
“Happy birthday.”
I grin.
