Hexed (Never After #6)

19. Venesa

NINETEEN

VENESA

You could have bet me a million dollars Enzo was afraid of heights, and I’m not sure I would have believed it. He seems like the type of man who doesn’t have any fears, but I should’ve known better.

Everyone has a weakness. Some of us are just better at covering ours up with false bravado.

Admitting our own flaws is hard, but embracing them is even harder, so the fact he’s willing to get on the Ferris wheel despite how afraid he is tells me a lot about him. Makes him more attractive, if I’m honest.

And him threatening Rusty, a douchebag from high school Aria locked me in a room with so he could rape me? That’s just icing on the cake.

I glance down to where Enzo’s still clasping my hand, his touch so electric that it makes my hair stand on end. He must take my stare as me being uncomfortable because he snatches it back and clears his throat, running those thick fingers through his hair.

I try to appease him. “Just think of this as your shadow work.”

He looks at me curiously. “Shadow work?”

“Yeah. You know, the unconscious part of your personality that doesn’t align with your ego.”

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

We move onto the platform and sit down in the empty seats, bringing the bar down onto our laps.

“I just told you.” I stare at him because what is he not getting? “You obviously have some type of trauma attached to your soul that makes you afraid of heights. Facing your fears is good for you.”

“Okay?” He touches the metal across our laps like he’s testing its strength.

“Have you ever considered wearing crystals?” I ask.

He looks at me funny. “No.”

“Oh. Maybe you should. Could help, you know.”

“Hey,” he calls out to the worker, jiggling the bar. “Aren’t you supposed to check this thing, make sure it’s secure?”

Although his face looks calm and handsome as ever, I don’t miss the way he’s white-knuckling the bar he’s referring to.

The worker grumbles as he makes his way over and tugs harshly on it. When it doesn’t budge, he lifts his brows mockingly before he goes back to the control panel.

Enzo watches him blankly but says nothing else.

A wave of protectiveness washes over me, and I’m two seconds away from jumping up and throttling the guy for being such a dick.

The wheel jerks as it starts to move, and Enzo’s hand flies from where it’s gripping the bar to my thigh.

A whoosh of breath escapes me when he clamps down on my skin, his thick calloused fingers squeezing tightly, the veins pronounced, and even though it’s hidden by his suit, I know they trail up his sinewy forearm and accentuate the ink that covers his flesh.

A deep, sharp stab of arousal hits me like lightning.

The ascent of the wheel is slow, stopping and starting every few seconds as more people are unloaded and reloaded, and I try to gauge how Enzo’s hanging on.

He’s watching me intently, almost like he’s afraid of looking at anything else. He doesn’t remove his touch, and I don’t ask him to.

“It’s okay to be scared of things,” I remind him again.

He doesn’t respond right away, his gaze moving down to where he’s still holding on to my leg, and then back up. Finally, his jaw clenches and he nods.

“It’s what makes us human. What makes us real,” I continue.

“Some of us don’t have that luxury.”

“Because of who you are?” I press.

“Because of who I’m supposed to be.”

I soak in his words because that makes sense to me. Sometimes it’s not safe to show your weaknesses because if people think you’re human, then they’ll realize how fallible and fragile you are. I suspect Enzo’s world isn’t so different from mine in that regard.

“Well.” I hesitate, but then place my hand over his on my thigh. “How about when it’s just us, we drop that expectation?”

“That’s not real life,” he argues.

“So let’s pretend we’re in a different one.”

Something dark flashes in his eyes, and we jolt as we move again.

His gaze sneaks to the ground, the color draining from his face.

The guilt over making him come up here and, even worse, poking fun at what is obviously a serious phobia of his worms its way through me.

I grasp his cheek and turn his face toward mine.

“Don’t look down,” I demand. “Just look at me.”

Surprisingly, he listens. Our eyes lock, our faces way too close to be anything other than inappropriate. But I don’t really care right now because at least if he’s focused on me, on whatever this thing between us is, then he isn’t panicking.

Slowly, our breathing synchronizes, my fingers brushing against the edge of his sharp jaw and his still digging into the meat of my thigh.

I inhale; he exhales.

Neither of us looks away.

His body loosens, and before I can disengage from the moment, the energy changes, his eyes dropping to my lips.

I can tell he wants to kiss me. And I want him to, which is crazy because I’ve never kissed anyone.

It’s too close. Too personal.

And I’m afraid I’ll be bad at it.

“Better?” I choke out, clearing my throat when the word cracks.

The wheel jolts, and my body slides closer from the motion, practically falling into his. I try to move back, but his other hand shoots out and grips my waist, and he leans in, his nose brushing against mine.

My mouth pops open, and I can feel his breath on my tongue. My heart slams against my chest like a hammer.

“Are you gonna say something?” he murmurs quietly, his eyes flicking back and forth like he’s trying to memorize the planes of my face.

I lick my lips, but I can’t make any words appear.

His hand moves from my waist and settles right at the nape of my neck.

My eyes flutter closed at the feel.

I force them open because this can’t happen.

No matter how much it feels like we’re in our own little world up here, the reality is down below, and as soon as this ride is over, we’ll be back on solid ground.

Back in the world where he’s engaged to my cousin, and I’m nothing more than a distraction.

Even worse than that, really. I’m a lie. Not that he knows the truth.

“Say something.” He demands it this time.

“Why?” I force out, my body so hot that I feel like I’m burning from the inside out.

“Because if you don’t, I’ll kiss the fuck out of you.”

His words smash into me like a wrecking ball.

“I could stop you,” I whisper, my stomach fluttering like it’s spawned a thousand wings from how close our mouths are.

“You won’t,” he rasps.

I close my eyes and force images of Aria into my head, of her kissing Enzo, of her walking down the aisle and him smiling at her, looking at her the same way I swear sometimes he looks at me.

Of her finding out about this and running to Uncle T.

Of the fallout that would inevitably happen after.

Panic swims through my veins, warring with the need percolating in my chest like a poison.

I’ll lose everything, and who knows what would happen to Enzo if he went against a marriage sanctioned by his father?

He could lose everything too.

Or worse.

So even though it hurts, even though it’s against what I’m feeling in my body, my intuition, my goddamn soul, I reach out and push off his chest, separating us and ending the moment.

Because no matter how badly I might want him…

Enzo isn’t mine to have.

And I’m not worth the fallout there would be if we gave in.