13. Ivory
He was so close. Close enough that she could see every curve and edge in his expression, to gauge the depth of his brows and measure the fan of his dark eyelashes. Close enough to study the pool of shadow under his lower lip and the round cut of his Adam’s apple.
Close enough to kiss.
She took a step back, remembering exactly what happened the last time she thought Adrian was going to kiss her. “No, I wasn’t trying anything. I promise.” They didn’t need things to get awkward between them when they’d just managed a normal conversation. “I really didn’t think about what I said earlier. We can just be friends, and if you want, I can forget—again.”
She wouldn’t force him to keep rejecting her. He obviously didn’t need a woman fawning over him. He didn’t want that. These stupid feelings that kept flaring up only got in the way—but she was more than a girl with overactive ovaries, and she’d prove it.
Adrian stepped inside and turned to close the door, cutting off the flow of cold air. Goosebumps still clung to her skin.
“Unlike some men, I care about what you say, so I’ll take your word for it.” He looked at her reflection through the glass, golden eyes dark and murky. “I’d be a terrible friend, so don’t think of me as one. But you don’t have to think of me as a stranger, either.”
Somehow, that felt like a big step for him.
“I didn’t mean to give the wrong impression. I just—” She paused. “I can’t not care, even if you ask me not to.” Her fingers twined in a knot behind her back.
“I know,” he whispered, then walked past her to the kitchen, pausing in front of the counter. “You’re too good for me, anyway.”
She followed, wondering how he could say that. He was her black knight. She was the one who needed his rescue.
“I’m not,” she whispered, lowering her gaze.
Thinking back to that night let in a slew of emotions. The night she admitted to Jace what she could’ve never told her straight-laced ex-boyfriend. The night she agreed to submit. In her drunken logic, she had thought it would feel like freedom, embracing the hidden parts of herself, maybe even dull the ache of her breakup.
When Jace asked if she liked it rough, she said yes.
She told him to take control. That she wanted it.
But she didn’t want her windpipe blocked off. She didn’t want to choke on salty tears and a foul dick and stomach acid mixed with all the drinks she’d downed in the past few hours. She didn’t want the night to end in her running away, too scared of what he’d do if the rest of her clothes came off.
Her desires had been wrong, so wrong. They were so pitch black that she hadn’t seen what asking for them could lead to.
“Jace may be a jerk, but—”
“Iv.” Adrian’s voice cut her off, and she bit her lip. “Don’t believe for a second whatever you were about to say. His behavior has no excuse.”
She sucked in a breath and nodded.
If he knew all of what happened…If she wore her darkness as plainly as he wore his, would he still care about what she wanted? Or only what he could get from it?
“Can I explain something to you?” he asked, tipping her chin up to look at him.
The overhead light shone through his eyes, illuminating them like sun rays that chased away her memories. She wasn’t in a dingy, dark room with a man who would abuse her.
She was with Adrian. She was safe, and that knowledge warmed her to the bone—calmed her heart and wound into her being enough to reignite her fire.
“Sure,” she said, standing with more confidence.
“You don’t need to hide. Nothing Jace did or said justifies being ashamed of yourself, even if you think it does.”
She swallowed. “I’m not as sweet as you think I am.”
“Oh, Iv.” He smiled, tone tender yet rough around the edges like every other part of him. “I could show you exactly how sweet you are.”
Her breath caught, and the familiar skip in her pulse spiked her senses. The room didn’t feel cold anymore, and she didn’t feel shy. She didn’t want to hide from him.
Especially if what he said was true. “Show me,” she whispered, the pounding of her heart loud in her ears.
“It won’t be very friend-like of me,” he warned.
“Just this once,” she breathed.
He held her gaze, and when he spoke, he left no room for misinterpretation. “If you want me to stop, you’ll tell me.”
“Yes.” She nodded.
A knot of anticipation tightened in her core. This static between them—this energy—came alive. It built her up, buoyed her until she was floating on a plane of him and her. Nothing like the stifling, repressive way Jace handled things.
With words alone, Adrian surpassed him as a god to a mere mortal.
“Face the countertop.”
The words were clear and direct, and as he spoke, Adrian watched her with expectation. Her breathing slowed, breaths deepening as she followed his orders and turned her back to him. Every part of her stood to attention, the point of her nipples pressing against the cups of the bra. Obeying him came as second nature, almost too easy. Too innate.
“Perfect,” he stated, as certain as if it were not a matter of opinion but fact.
She sucked in a sharp breath and relaxed her shoulders, a peaceful calm settling over her in the position. He stood far enough not to touch yet close enough to reassure her of his presence.
“You think so?” The question felt like a gamble, like she was asking him to take back what he’d said if he couldn’t prove it. But he didn’t disappoint.
“I do,” he murmured. “You’re responsive. You believe I can give you what you ask for, and that allows me to listen to you as I lead. This won’t work any other way.”
“Oh,” she breathed. “It’s easy because I trust you.”
He hummed, and a shiver went down her spine. “As I trust you.” He took a step closer. “You are truly divine, Ivory. Worthy of worship. Never question that.”
She wanted to believe him—wanted to say she’d known it all along, but too many times, she’d been unable to live up to her own expectations. Much less those of others. “It’s hard not to question,” she admitted.
His palm slid into the curve of her waist, fingers splaying out as he moved up to her shoulder and down the other side. The touch was soothing, sinking past her clothes and into her skin. She could picture how his hand would look, the cleaned cuts and scarred rings against the soft cotton of her sweater.
“Even a blind man would be drawn to your voice, to your touch,” he continued. “I want you to appreciate yourself. Can you do that for me?”
Her eyes fluttered closed. “I can try.”
His hand traced up her spine, halting between her shoulder blades and then applying a touch of pressure. She bent with the silent command. “If we’d discussed rules beforehand,” he started, voice crisp as he guided her down, “you’d know that’s not an acceptable answer—and I’d punish you for it.”
The laminate was cold, frosted over from the earlier breeze. Her cheek pressed down into the counter, fully flushed and relieved to settle into the chill. Chest flat against the hard surface, she was tempted to squirm as the hem of her sweater rose over her ass, but she stayed still, not wanting to inspire further need for punishment. The concept had once sounded attractive in her mind, but now the possibility of reprimand formed a tight pit in her stomach.
“It wouldn’t be to belittle or exert force, but a reminder. A consequence you earned in order to learn. Do you understand?” His hand smoothed down to where her sweater stopped at her tailbone, and she became acutely aware of how her tights clung to each dip and curve. Comfort had been the only deciding factor of her current outfit, but at the moment, it had no such effect.
He’d be able to see everything. Every way her body formed to pair with his. The thought alone had her quivering, but she managed to breathe out a reply.
“Yes, sir.” The words slipped out before she could stop them. He didn’t seem to mind, though. It almost felt as natural as when she’d said it on their midnight walk.
“So try again,” he prompted.
“I’ll appreciate myself.” Doubt still flickered in the back of her mind, but she was determined to do it because he asked—even if it was small. Even if she could only appreciate one thing, she’d put in the effort.
“Good,” he praised. “Because I appreciate you. And I don’t like when others undervalue the things I appreciate.”
Warmth blossomed in her chest. What did he see in her?
Adrian continued. “Not every man will know what to do with this—-your desire to submit, to please—but it is powerful. Sweet and good and desirable.”
He inhaled slowly as if he was having just as much trouble breathing as she was. “You are powerful.”
His hand moved up to the nape of her neck, gently brushing the hair out of the way so as not to tangle it and massaged away her built-up tension. The heat from their skin meeting sent a shiver down her spine, leaving in its wake a blazing trail of desire.
For a moment, she pictured them in the quiet stillness of the night, somewhere deep in the woods and away from prying eyes. On Halloween, with blood still on his knuckles and shimmers of moonlight kissing her skin.
A black knight and his witch, who only wove her magic for him. A man who prized his woman over his own life.
“Thank you,” she whispered.
“You are very welcome,” he murmured, then stepped away and his hand left. His warmth left.
Her body ached in protest as if she could summon him back with sheer willpower. With raw need.
“Come here,” he said, and though it was still a command, his voice came out soft and reverent.
She straightened, tucked her sweater around her thighs, and turned toward him.
His eyes were molten. A bright, hot liquid gold. “Tonight was an exception, but before a man should even get to think about that part of you, he should care about this.”
He brought his finger to the center of her chest.
She took a deep breath, steadying herself with the words that she’d known all along but needed to hear.
“Not for one second do I take for granted the trust you’ve given me, sweetheart.” His hand dropped, and she saw the change in him, how his face fell, and his tone turned gritty and dark. “But I don’t deserve it.”
She wanted to argue, to deny his point, but she had no good reason. She knew so little about him. Now, all she wanted was to find out more. He’d reassured her of her insecurities, and it was fair that she did the same for him. Regardless of what she did or didn’t know, one thing had become clear. She wasn’t the only one giving mixed signals.
He picked up two packs of beer and turned to the door, but she had to know one thing before they went back.
“Did you ever find what you were looking for?”
His shoulders rose as he inhaled, then they slumped. “Yeah, I did find something.” He paused. “But I still look up at night and find myself alone with the stars.”