Page 80 of Eyes Like Angel
Hatred was never my strong suit.
“I have to clean the trays,” I reminded, attempting to haul back.
“Hecan 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, leavingtraces 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.
