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When I turn towards him, I find him leaning slightly on the bonnet, watching me.
“This is so pretty.” I shout, forcing my words past the wind to reach him and he shakes his head.
“You’re prettier.” He tells me.
My breath catches in my throat. I know he’s called me beautiful countless times.
But this time, I want to believe him. I stop short at touching him, my face almost level with his, his slight lean and my heels closing the distance.
There’s something softer in his expression, something calm, something awfully similar to peace.
I have never felt this alive before.
Is this what everyone has been experiencing all the time while I was busy mourning my childhood?
Why does the thought make me so envious of people who had it all growing up?
TWENTY-ONE
Elara
He holds my hand, caressing the skin lightly with his thumb as he gazes into my eyes. A slow smile spreads on his face, and he pulls me even closer, depleting all the distance between us.
My hands land on his chest to steady myself as he buries his nose in my neck and takes a huge, lingering inhale. I cannot fight the shiver that’s more him than the cold.
“Fuck baby, you smell so good.” He growls, the vibration of it rakes through my body, promising something so delicious I cannot wait for.
He lifts his head, lazily eyeing me before he nods at me. “Did you eat something today?”
I purse my lips before giving a barely discernible shake of my head, and he grunts wanting to chastise me but stopping shortly.
“Wait here.” He tells me and rounds the car opening the boot and pulling out a folded blanket. With precision, he spreads it over the bonnet, flattening the creases.
My gaze darts between him, the car, and then my skirt. Not only did I refuse to dress warm, I managed to pick the most inconvenient outfit possible.
Should I just throw myself off a cliff at this point?
“I’ve tasted the pussy you’re trying so hard to hide.” He chuckles, looking so smug. “It’s too dark to see anyway.” He adds as if a consolation to his crude remark.
When I don’t fill the silence, he sighs again. “I won’t look baby, not until you allow me to.” His hands come under my arms, and in one smooth motion, he lifts me onto the bonnet.
“Chivalry isn’t dead after all.”
“I told you, malyshka. I am a gentleman.”
“I bet every woman throws herself at you.” I remark sarcastically.
“The only one I want keeps running from me.” His voice is not above a whisper, only catching on late that he’d said it out loud.
I’m too stunned to speak when he rummages around in the backseat of his car and drops his suit jacket in my lap.
He settles himself next to me, pulling out a bag before unscrewing the lid of a steel container.
Steam escapes instantly into the cold air. The noodles glisten in the soft light, coated in the pale, buttery sauce, flecked with tiny bits of garlic and parsley like it was…home- cooked.
I blink at it, at him. My brain can’t quite wrap around why he’d go to this length for me.
I’m disposable, he’s going to get rid of me soon, then, why?
