3. Chapter 3 #2
I open my mouth to respond when something lands on my shoulder.
Something round, fuzzy, and absolutely terrifying.
I turn my head down just in time to see a bumblebee crawl across my blouse.
Before I can react, it disappears beneath the neckline, falling directly into my bra.
The insect immediately begins buzzing in panic.
I freeze, my entire body suddenly frozen in place.
"There's a bee," I whisper, barely moving my lips. “In my blouse.”
Adrian frowns down on me, but before he can say anything, I add, “I'm allergic. Deadly allergic.”
Adrian's demeanor transforms instantly. Gone is the argumentative sheriff, replaced by intense focus.
"Don't move," he commands softly. "I can help. May I?"
The bee buzzes against my skin, trapped between the soft flesh of my breast and the silk of my blouse. My heart pounds with panic.
I nod, hardly breathing.
Adrian moves closer, close enough that I can see flecks of gold in his green-gray eyes.
"Stay still," he murmurs, as soothingly as if he were addressing a frightened horse.
His fingers are surprisingly gentle as they reach toward the neckline of my blouse. The back of his hand brushes against my collarbone, warm through the thin silk. My breath catches as his fingers dip lower, sliding carefully between the fabric and my skin.
Time slows down. I'm acutely aware of his proximity, the subtle pine scent of him, the warmth radiating from his body. His eyes lock with mine, and for a moment, they flash brilliant emerald green.
"Almost got it," he says, voice low and rumbling. "Don't move. "
His fingers slip in farther, brushing the upper curve of my breast as he carefully closes his hand around the buzzing insect. The contact sends an unexpected shiver down my spine that has nothing to do with fear.
"There," he murmurs, withdrawing his hand with the bumblebee captured in his gentle fist. His eyes remain fixed on mine, still that unnatural bright green.
He opens his fist to release the bee into the air, and it bumbles away, oblivious to the chaos it caused.
Neither of us moves. The tension between us has transformed into something else entirely, something electric and unfamiliar. My heart pounds for reasons beyond the bee sting I've avoided.
I snap back to reality, suddenly too aware of how close we're standing. I take a hasty step backward, forgetting the garden's terraced design. My heel meets empty air instead of stone.
I scream, my arms wildly gesturing, as if I can take flight. I can’t, of course.
Adrian lunges forward to catch me, but the movement is too sudden as he pulls me forward toward him. His momentum carries us both off-balance and we topple to the ground, his arms wrapping around me as we fall.
We land in the soft grass with me sprawled on top of him, his body cushioning mine from the impact.
His arms form a wall of protection around my body, wrapped over my back with one large palm cradling my head.
My legs straddle his narrow hips, my skirt hiked all the way to gather around my waist. For a suspended moment, we freeze in the compromising position.
My hands are splayed against his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart through his uniform. His hands grip my waist, steadying me.
Our faces are inches apart. His breath is hot against my lips, the flecks of gold in his eyes mesmerizing me like mirages.
A confusing rush of emotions floods through me—embarrassment, awareness, and a completely inappropriate rush of arousal.
"What exactly is happening here?"
The cold voice slices through our moment like an icicle.
I scramble to my feet, horrified to find Silverine Draak, the Draak clan matriarch herself, standing at the garden entrance, her elegant frame silhouetted against the manor.
Her violet eyes are narrowed to slits, thin lips pressed into a disapproving line.
The tips of her wings flutter with barely contained fury as she glares at us.
Well, mostly at me.
"Mrs. Draak," I stammer, acutely aware of my flushed face and disheveled appearance. "There was a bee in my blouse and the sheriff was just—"
The explanation dies on my lips, sounding ridiculous even to my own ears. How do I explain that we went from arguing to intimate contact, to rolling in the grass in the span of five minutes?
Adrian rises more slowly, brushing grass from his uniform. A muscle works in his jaw, and I swear there's a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.
Jerk.
Silverine's gaze moves between us, disbelief and disapproval radiating from her in frigid waves. Without a word, she turns on her heel, back rigid with indignation, and stalks away. The click of her heels on the stone path punctuates her exit like gunshots .
I turn to Adrian, mortification burning through me. That hint of a smirk has bloomed into a full, infuriating grin.
"You," I hiss, jabbing a finger toward his chest, "are impossible."
I snatch my fallen clipboard from the grass and stalk away, heart still racing, blouse askew, hair falling from its neat updo.
What an arrogant, impossible man Saltford Bay's sheriff turned out to be.
And why did he have to smell so damned good?