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Olive is wincing, covering her eyes with displeasure, and I’m trying to sense what she’s thinking besides how disturbed she is by this all. I would have been disturbed months ago when we first arrived, but I’m not right now. In fact, I wish Olive weren’t here right now, so I could kiss him for real— among other things…
“So, anyone up for some dinner?” Adrik grins and a couple of the boys come out of the bushes right on cue, carrying a long wooden picnic table with benches attached. On top of it are the same little mushroom lights among silver platters of food with two place settings at one end and at the very far and opposite end, one place set. They place it down in the center of the roof and disappear back from where they came. Probably guarding the outskirts of the roof, though this is the highest point in the safe-house, so I don’t know who would even be able to get up here if they tried.
We take our seats and Olive is slumping around like she hates her life. I try not to laugh about it because I am fairly annoyed at her insistence to come along. On the other hand, Adrik is definitely making her pay for it.
The dinner is lovely and that same song plays over and over on a lovely loop, enhancing our time and making it feel a little more dreamy. Adrik and I don’t fight the entire time. He keeps telling me how beautiful I look and staring at me like I really am the most amazing thing he’s seen. I want to believe this is Ernest, and he’s finally grown a spot for me in his heart. That if Vince can’t get me out of this, we might just be okay. I can live with the rollercoaster that is Adrik Mikhailov, if at the very least he doesn’t hate me. Especially when I’ve tried desperately not to hate him.
“Should we take a walk?” He asks, holding out his hand for me to take as he stands.
“Sure.” I nod, and he holds a hand out for Olive, but she waves it away.
“This rooftop isn’t that big. I’ll chaperone from right here.” Her lips curl slightly in disgust like she can’t get the image of us kissing out of her brain, and I do feel bad about that. Although, she did promise not to tell Vince anything if she could come along on our dates, so here’s to hoping she keeps that promise.
We begin our walk around the garden, hand in hand, without Olive breathing down our necks.
“This is a Russian pomegranate tree. The largest I could ship in on such short notice.” He’s practically yelling when he says this, then he leans in and whispers, “Play along.”
“Wha--“ before I can finish my sentence, he presses me up against the tree, hand trailing up my thigh, and I let out a breath. Without missing a beat, he reaches up, covering my mouth and repeating, “Play along.” I nod, and he slowly retracts his hand from my mouth.
“Wow! It’s gorgeous!” I say at the same volume he was yelling at as he continues up my thigh with a nod, leaning in. I grab the hair at the back of his head, pulling him in closer until our lips graze. He keeps them this way, dragging his bottom lip over mine, looking in my eyes for a second before kissing down my neck and grabbing my even thigh tighter.
Just as he gets down to my collarbone, fingers almost at my heat, making me hold my breath, so I don’t moan, he grabs my hand and pulls me along the pathway. We go deeper into the trees and bush area before he continues.
“These are blackberry and raspberry bushes. A little early for them, but I hear these are sweet.” He lowers his voice again, pressing his forehead to mine. “I want to rip this dress off you.” He whispers, looking down at it.
“Do it, then.” I whisper back before loudly saying, “I’d like to try them!” He licks his smirk, colliding with my lips again in a hungry, rushed sort of way. It stirs the kind of feeling you get when you’re knocked off your feet and onto your back unexpectedly.
I’m floating under the weight of his touch and I think we both know how dangerous this really is, but that does stop either of us from doing anything about it. His fingers are already petting into my soaked heat, eyes lock on mine as he ignores my silk underwear, shoving his fingers around it into my opening.
“Oh,” I moan before he covers my mouth, eyes still focused on mine, and I nod to let him know I can do this– I can keep it up. He presses into me further, and I dig my nails into his strong shoulder.
“They are good.” I force out steadily as he presses deeper into me. Just as he kisses me softly again, there is a stirring from behind us, branches moving just enough that I know someone has seen us.
Chapter Twenty Five:Adrik
The rustlein the bushes puts me on high alert and I drop to my knees quickly. Espie gets confused by this, and I know she does because she’s grabbing the top of my hair, tugging on me desperate to pull me up. I peel myself away from her grasp and pretend to be picking black berries, handing her one just as Olive breaks through the line of bushes.
“I want to try the berries.” She says like she’s disappointed she didn’t catch us, and honestly, I was so close to fucking Espie for real that I don’t even think Olive could deter her from it.
“Here.” I reach behind me, handing her one as I wipe my lips to get rid of Espie’s lipstick residue. I pop a berry in my mouth regretfully and turn around to see Olive grimacing and puckering her lips in the same way I am.
“I think Espie got the only sweet one.” I lie, spitting mine out, and Olive follows suit.
“Yeah. Must be it.” She eyes Espie, who’s been silent. I look up at her slightly disgruntled state— flushed cheeks and pink nose.
“Are you cold yet?” Olive asks, holding out her white jacket for her. Espie only nods, probably thankful for getting an out, instead of explaining why she looks the way she does.
I wipe my berry hands off on the grass before standing and helping Espie slide the jacket on each arm. Something about doing this makes me feel good on the inside. Maybe it’s the waft of her perfume or the way she just expected me to help her… I don’t know. It just makes me feel strong. Not the type of strength I feel when I win a fight or kill a cock-head in a pub. It’s this weird satisfied, almost happy feeling.
I shrug away from her when she reaches for my hand because the feeling freaks me out a bit, and she tries to meet my gaze, but I avoid it. Avoid looking at the ring on her finger, too, because that makes me feel extra shitty.
So, my plan partially worked, and Espie and I won’t be watched as closely as we were about to be because we’re engaged. But at what cost to my sanity will this bring if this strange softness for her persists?
“I think we should head to bed, Espie.” Olive watches between us carefully.
“Are you tired?” I raise my brows, lowering my chin.
“No.”
