Page 43 of Eyes Like Angel (Eyes Like Angel #1)
“Good.” His cheeky smile appeared, dimples deepened and the mole beneath his right eye crinkled. “Guess you need a good company,” he joked, hands clamped on my waist, soothing.
I shook my head, not wanting him to earn victory, despite his teasing. “I need warmth,” I uttered, truthful.
His throat formed a ‘hummed’ sound, getting closer to me, inch by inch.
His back hunched down, his eyes leveled and aligned, locked in, motionless.
One hand cemented on my slender waist as the other cupped my face, jet-black hues studying every inch of me, my haggard features due to prolonged responsibilities.
“How about I give you a kiss again? Would you like that?”
A flush spread across the cheeks, my emerald eyes fluttered, shied away at his sudden grant, gloved hands heaved on his torso in the gentlest way I could.
Adrian laughed, his balance tipped due to his head thrown back but adjusted himself again before given me a long embrace, enfolded the leftover space between us. His lips pressed against my veiled head, then the left side of my cheek, longingly…lovingly.
All the while his hands clasped onto my slender waist, as I took his scent in, and smelled a mixture of sandalwood, a hinted spice—manly and sophisticated. A breath of fresh air lingered the longer I stayed.
“Don’t disappear on me again,” he begged, arms fastened, but not to break my fragile bones. “I looked for you everywhere at the last party my friends and I hosted. At the farm behind my parents’ house, one I told you.”
My mouth quivered. “Forgive me,” I said softly.
In an instant, he hushed me. “Don’t,” he growled. “I shouldn’t have made you wait outside. I shouldn’t have left you alone with her, and have you accompanied by Marceline. I’m a real piece of jerk, aren’t I?”
Eyelashes fluttered, blanketed in dark vision. The rigidness in my posture slackened, the embrace gotten deeper, like a blanket wrapped over me and shielded me from a raging storm.
“I should be the one who’s sorry,” he murmured, stroking my backside. “I messed up.”
No words fallen from my lips, and in return, I hugged him, gestured in a slow—and tighter—way, my way of bestowing him forgiveness.
“Thank God she grounded me,” he added with a dreamy sigh.
“What?”
“Nothing,” he said, waving it off, “just don’t mind me.”
Rain drops plopped on a stained-glass window of a historical figure in the bible, Deborah, ever so watchful, watchful with her sharpened eyes and sharpened wisdom, judging me.
Cautious, I hauled myself in a leisured pace, intended to resume my cleaning duties in the kitchen, but Adrian pulled in harder, not severed enough to fracture.
“Stay,” he growled softly, squeezing me. His lips pouted at my former action. He hated when I strolled to disappearance, beyond him and his sight, where he could keep a watchful eye, like he did previously.
Suddenly, my conscious is compromised, and held no objections. I had no choice, but can’t say I protest with hatred.
Hatred was never my strong suit.
“I have to clean the trays,” I reminded, attempting to haul back.
“ He can clean the trays himself,” he protested. “You said so.”
“I’ll have to see if Micah can. He’s busy handing out coffee and sandwiches to the homeless,” I replied, oblivious to why Adrian didn’t want to mention Micah’s name.
He stroked my back once more. “I wouldn’t let you lift a finger on that, or anything.”
Motionless, my voice carried in sadness. “My hands are tied. It’s impossible to leave my assigned task.”
Mrs. Rivers will kill me , I thought with a little shiver tickled down on my arms.
“Ridiculous. Nothing’s impossible,” his lips leaned in, grazing against mine. “I can order them to, while you sit back and eat as much food as you can for today.”
My head pulled back in direct contact with his dreamlike hues. “How do you know I wasn’t eating?”
His dark, cold eyes hardened. “I know when a person doesn’t eat.”
My heart thundered, praying for my stomach unable to growl.
My lips dried, gulping, unknown of his next intentions.
“My break is over,” I told him, nervous. “Besides, I’m not allowed more than what I’ve been offered.”
Endowed by his confession, frame of my fragile body surrendered—stubbornness has been my strong quality, my inner strength to rebel and oppose anything, anything like contributions or assistance, it imposes a threat to perseverance I’ve had.
Soon, my stubbornness melted. “My food has gone cold. I don’t know if there’s a way for me to heat it up again.”
“I’ll see if I could find a way to have a ceramic plate and a cup for you to drink on. Most plates and cups were metal. I doubt it’d be compatible to the microwave.”
Looking again, the longer I fixated my gaze, the longer he appeared as a moving painting, a move painting swirled, leaving traces of swirled and distorted, colorful silhouettes flowing over him, his fanged tooth on his right side gleamed.
His fanged tooth poked out once more, sending a mischievous smug on my way.
“Wait, I have something,” he said, taking out the handkerchief from his pocket and passed it over to me.
Unwrapping the fabric, I spotted glazed sweets of raspberries on the glazed bread and two strawberries.
“I saved those,” he said. “Eat. I don’t want you to starve.”
Then I ate without hesitation.
My stomach made a flip, thanking to myself Adrian’s intentions weren’t insincere, his piercing gaze is determined and possibly an aligned goodliness underneath the exterior of a playboy.
Despite his questionable activities and messages he has sent—mixed and entirely confusing—I myself found his intentions to be…
true, despite how my intuitions were perplexingly frustrated, in a way a sort of gladness slid in.
I wondered how many girls he encountered to be swayed and fell in love under his fingertips, twist and turns and leaps.
I wouldn’t say sorcery or black magic. Adrian Rivers doesn’t seem to be a type of man to take someone seriously; in my previous observations, Adrian roamed all over the town, mingling and socializing everyone.
His energy preserved and energized twice as high whenever he mingles.
That he had a knack of talent on drawing people into his angelic and soft-glowing charisma he bestowed, as if people wanted to be blessed and granted by… a real angel.
“Say something, angel,” he purred, laced in a subtle purr, his face leaning in closer.
My mouth parted for Adrian to insert his tongue in, lips deeply clashing as he held me still.
“I couldn’t get enough of you,” he said, his voice hoarse in arousal. “I don’t think it’ll ever stop.”
His thumb caressed me, swiping the glaze to lick it off.
“Beautiful,” he added, gazing longer, like he was dreaming a good dream.
Silence droned. His thumb caressed my chin again, pushing my chin up to meet his hollow-shaded hues.
“You wear that crucifix like a shield, Eva…but your eyes—your eyes beg me not to leave,” he added, purring.
Conflicted, I said, “I can’t stop you from looking at me, but the crucifix still there. It will always be.”
He licked his lower lip. “Your eyes say yes, but the crucifix around your neck keeps saying no.”
Adrian made no objections or protest, stroking my veiled head wrapped in thick silk. The “W” on my chest glittered, embroider and sewn in glittered gold, twinkled against his dark coat.
The air became lighter, and free, I wanted to drown myself into it, whatever this source of feeling fluttering and swarming inside me.
“Where the hell have you been, Adrian,” a voice boomed.
Adrian and I diverted our gaze and darted it at a young man standing in impatience before us.
The young man’s posture was straight as a ruler, in his brown and gray plaid suit, he gave us a weary expression, appearing like he belonged at the higher status background with prestigious reputation, like he never had joy in his daily life despite the power status.
His sleek hair combed and neat, as his light-brown eyes scanned us, taking it all in, deducing the assumptions, hoping the man won’t start a commotion.
“Brother, I need to speak with you,” he said, firm.
The bond between us once stood shattered with its chill.