Page 148 of Adam
So I keep my eyes away, pretend I’m super interested in this empty-ass ceiling, and hope she can’t hear how loud my brain is screaming.
“You want to tear the bag apart?” she asks, walking closer.
Fuck …
“Maybe.”
She reaches close to me, crosses her arms, and leans against the wall, her dark blue eyes locked on me. I can feel the stare, even without looking straight at her. She’s probably judging the hell out of me right now. Can’t blame her.
“How are you?” she asks.
“Peachy,” I mutter, tugging at the wraps on my hands.
She hums and doesn’t say a damn thing, and somehow that makes it worse. Way worse. I’m drowning in her judgment, and every second she stays quiet just shoves my head down further. It feels like I’m six feet deep in her silence, and there’s no fucking ladder to climb out.
“Look, little?—”
“Will you teach me?” She cuts me off.
I raise a brow. “Teach you what?”
“How to be a badass like you.” She smirks.
“Uh … What?”
“I always wanted to know how to handle a blade.” His eyes drop, taking a slow sweep from head to toe. “And you’re the perfect teacher.”
Is she making fun of me?
“But …”
“Adam, look.” She steps closer and takes my face in her hands. “I’m glad I was there last night. I’m glad you didn’t go through that alone.”
… The fuck?
I just stare at her like a dumbass. No words come out. My brain is still stuck on her being glad about that night. That train wreck.
She doesn’t seem fazed. “You can talk to me about it when you’re ready. I get that ‘mother’ was never your favorite word in the dictionary.”
Then she rises up and plants a kiss right on my lips, oblivious to the fact that she has just completely short-circuited my brain.
“I’ll be there, no matter when that’ll be,” she says, calm as hell.
And just like that, my pride claws its way back. Seeing the woman I’m obsessed with standing there, not backing away after everything she saw, makes something settle in my chest.
And for the first time in a long time, I don’t feel like breaking something.
I just nod.
“So you want to be a badass, huh?” I raise a brow.
“M-hm,” she hums, pressing her full lips together.
I want to fuck those lips again.
I nod with a smile, but it’s a fucking miracle I’m still standing still. My fingers twitch with the urge to grab her, to fuck her against the wall and finally devour what I’ve been starving for.
The way she stands there. Expectant, unguarded in the way people get when they trust the wrong man. Because everyone knows I’m not a fucking saint, and she knows exactly what she’s doing to me.
