10. Adrian
He settled on the couch, beer in hand, and pretended not to be bothered by the two sets of eyes staring at his back from the kitchen. Meanwhile, his and Caspian’s conversation meandered through a traditional path of how-were-your-holidays, grumbling about how much homework had been assigned in the first week of classes, and then down memory lane, which circled back to what it was like not to be single.
Or, in Adrian’s case, what it was like to still be single. He carefully avoided the topic of Ivory, not wanting to say something she’d overhear and get embarrassed by.
After a short while, she and Nia brought in plates of fancy appetizers, or what Ivory called mini charcuterie —a collection of cheese, deli meats, and fresh fruit that looked far better than anything he’d seen at any college gathering.
“It’s simple, kinda plain, but I guess it does the trick,” Ivory said, handing him a small plate.
“Looks good to me,” he commented.
Nia cast a proud look at her friend and sat beside Caspian on the couch. “It was all her idea.”
Ivory shrunk at the compliment, picking at the piling on her sweater as she mumbled that it was really nothing special.
Noting the limited space on the couch—the only comfortable seating option, which left a lot to be desired of Caspian’s hosting etiquette—Adrian relocated to the desk chair and made space for the ladies. Caspian went about setting up a multiplayer video game while Nia happily munched on the snacks.
It took Ivory all of two seconds to notice the newest damage done to his knuckles, glancing over them with concern. Just when he’d managed to forget about it, too. Her gaze darted between her lap and his hands, between the television screen and back to his knuckles.
Hell, it was annoying. But what bothered him most of all was that her attention never lifted to his face. He wanted her to know he wasn’t worth her time, not to make her uncomfortable in his presence.
Now that she wouldn’t meet his gaze, he realized he missed the way she looked at him on Halloween. Like she’d hand him her whole world because she thought he could offer something better. Adrian forced his gaze away from her. He knew he didn’t have anything good to offer her. Maybe it was better this way.
“Only found two controllers, but we can make it work.” Caspian reclaimed his seat next to Nia with a fresh beer. “Who’s up first?”
“I need to watch a round. I’ve never played before,” Ivory replied.
Caspian looked over expectedly. “I’ll give it a go,” Adrian acquiesced, trying to ignore Ivory’s persistent sideways stare.
Nia passed a controller to Ivory, who then gave it to him. She hesitated as their fingers brushed, and even from the slight touch, he relished the warmth of her skin, smooth where his was rough and broken. Today her nails were painted lavender with little jeweled snowflakes on the thumb. He wondered if she’d done them herself.
The first match ended in a win for him, meaning a loss for Caspian, per usual. He handed the controller back, but after Ivory insisted she needed to watch another round, Nia took over.
As the next match started, Ivory leaned toward him and broke her silence. “Is it really that hard to take care of yourself?” She focused again on his hand and finally lifted her jade eyes to his. “Or did you just get back from defending another damsel in distress?”
That’s when he saw it—the annoyance sparking within the shadows of her pupils, challenging him to disagree.
Which he did.
“I appreciate your concern, but no maidens were involved,” he replied. “And I’d say you should see the other guy, but I don’t think the brick wall looks any worse for wear.” A little scrape like this was nothing for her to get worked up over.
Her expression looked less than amused. She might as well have handed him nails and a hammer, set up a cross in the middle of the room, and demanded he pay for a mortal sin. Still, it’d be a lie to say he didn’t like to see that fury rekindle in her eyes. So different from when she let him blow smoke in her face.
“Well, you should really get it disinfected,” she huffed.
“They’ll heal,” he replied, keeping his voice low. “It’s not the first time, and it won’t be the last.”
“All the more reason to take care of it,” she retorted, unapologetic to how her stubbornness had begun to dominate the conversation. “They’ll heal better without getting infected.”
After all his wanting for her direct attention, the objection ate at his insides. No one else had noticed his scars, because his personal shit wasn’t their concern. He wasn’t about to go nursing wounds that were bound to fester later. Especially not to someone like her. Someone who cared enough to see through his facade.
Holding her stare, he met her defiance with his own. If it was that much of an issue, then he’d give her something else to gawk at. He reached between his shoulder blades and tugged the shirt off his back in one motion, wrapping it around his damaged knuckles. “I didn’t want to make a big deal about it, but if it’s too distracting for you, I’ll cover it up.”
Her eyes rounded into large saucers, jaw open. His physique wasn’t cover-model worthy, but it was nothing to be ashamed of, either. At least now her attention was off his injury, although it still fell short of his face. He didn’t know if that was better or worse.
Better, he decided, as the look in her eyes shifted from irritation to poorly masked desire. That was something he knew how to handle.
“I’ll take care of it,” he affirmed, aware of how his tone had lowered and how her eyes flicked up to his. Much better. Those beautiful deer-in-headlight eyes gave away more than she knew.
She closed her mouth, and the video game announcer declared a winner.
“Hey now—when did it become no shirt time?” Caspian asked, impervious to the room’s shift in mood.
“Keep your clothes on,” Nia hissed.
Adrian tore his eyes away from Ivory to mock Caspian. “You’re a fucking exhibitionist. No one said they wanted to see you shirtless.”
Caspian chuckled, raising an eyebrow at his fiancée. “What you don’t know won’t kill you.”
“It’s what I know that scares me,” Adrian shot back.
Nia didn’t look amused. “Caspian, if he needs a new shirt, he could borrow one of yours?”
“He needs a first aid kit,” Ivory cut in.
Caspian looked him over quizzically, then zeroed in on the pseudo-bandaged hand.
“I, um…think we have one in the bathroom,” Nia offered.
Ivory gave him a pointed look, and despite her scowl, the natural pink on her lips looked extra sweet today. He sighed. She wasn’t going to let this go, was she?
Frustrated even by his slow response, Ivory got up to head towards the bathroom. “If you won’t do it for yourself, then I will.”
He caught her arm as she walked by, expecting her to pull away, but she didn’t. Her breath hitched, and she stared down at him. “I’ll do it,” he said softly. “You don’t need to take care of me.”
“Clearly, I do.” Though the words carried her attitude, they came out gentle and meek.
He chuckled and shook his head. “Why?”
He genuinely wanted to know—why did she insist on looking out for him? After rejecting her and making her ride on his big scary bike, and now showing a glimpse of the kind of disaster he really was, why would she care?
“Because…” She hesitated and pulled her lip between her teeth. “I want my hair dyed. That’s why.” With a glance down, one that lingered on his abdomen before settling on his hand gripping her arm, she added, “I need those hands in good shape.”
In another scenario, he might have smirked, said something along the lines of my hands aren’t the only thing I can use on you , but her words went deeper than that. They meant more than a shallow innuendo—not just to her, but to him too.
She rolled her eyes, and he had to bite his tongue not to reprimand her attitude. “Come on. Such a big baby, what happened to my knight?”
“We’re just gonna play another match, cool?” Caspian said. Adrian gave him a nod.
He didn’t protest further as Ivory pulled him into the bathroom, sat him on the toilet, and gracefully kneeled to rummage for the first aid kit under the sink.
The game’s music started back up in the living room, but Ivory’s position took his mind off everything else. The apartment’s bathroom was tiny, and the only space left for her to sit was directly between his legs. He tried not to wonder what she’d do if he squared his shoulders, if he used that low, commanding tone and told her how pretty she looked on her knees.
No. This was exactly why he had to keep distance between them. Even though it would be twice as painful to see her walk away again.
“If you’d been this way around Jace, he would think twice about targeting you.” He spoke quietly enough for the words to not carry outside the bathroom and unsuccessfully tried to distract himself from watching the line of her sweater inch up the back of her thighs.
“What way?” she asked, voice muffled by the cabinet.
“The mean, stubborn way. Jace doesn’t deserve your kindness.” Neither did he, for that matter. But the more she offered it to him, the more he wanted to take it.
“I’m not mean.” She sat upright, pulling out a red and white bag and a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “Maybe a little stubborn.”
Oh, she had no idea. He’d love to teach her what that kind of stubbornness would get her—if he reversed the roles and showed her just how well he could take care of her needs. He’d insist on giving her what he thought was best, even when she asked for less. Even when she begged that she couldn’t take any more.
“So you’re only like that when you want to help someone else?” he asked. “Not when it comes to helping yourself?”
“Something like that,” she whispered. Her gaze found his belt, wavering as she trailed up his bare chest and landed on his face. She snapped her eyes back to his hand and carefully unwrapped the shirt.
His body stirred under the appraisal, her will alone enough to summon him to action despite his efforts to repress it. “Have you ever called him out? Told Jace to fuck off and walked away?”
She stiffened. “Not in those exact words. I’m hoping he’ll forget about me. There are other girls who want to be around him.”
“You’re hard to forget, sweetheart.”
He figured Jace would keep his distance after their little exchange, but that kind of guy rarely stopped. Once they found a target, they kept coming back like an addict. Taking away power from others was their drug, and she had to stop feeding into it. “I want him to see that side of you next time. You’re more than capable of putting him in his place.”
She didn’t reply, instead picking out a cotton ball and dousing it with alcohol, then tenderly gripped his hand. Her movements were much too gentle—too gratifying—as she dabbed at the skin around his rings.
“Does it hurt?” She no longer hid how her eyes wandered from his knuckles to the trail of dark hair disappearing under his beltline, leaving his skin hot and heart pounding.
Dammit, he shouldn’t have pulled that stupid stunt and taken off his shirt. “Yeah,” he murmured with a twitch of his lips. “But I’ll take the pain if it comes with the pleasure of having you care for me.”
She scoffed, concentrating as she moved over the deeper cuts where blood had dried in the cracks. He watched her for a while, using the pain to keep his mind off imagining what else her hands could do—or what they’d look like tied to his headboard. She’d consume his every thought if he wasn’t careful.
“I’m not made of glass. You won’t break me,” he added, then winced as she pressed harder.
Still, the alcohol stung less than the thought of Jace assuming he could get away with shit if he found Ivory alone. The mere thought of that asshole touching her again, looking at her, made him scowl. If he was about to get his hands dirty with the Dragons, he wouldn’t be there to protect her. He had to know she’d be okay—even if he had to push her limits.