Page 103 of The Ruthless Boys (Adamson All-Boys Academy 2)
I crack the top on the box and stare down at the ring. It’s simple, but elegant, an Asscher cut diamond in a vivid pink with a platinum setting. It suits me, that’s for sure. Like, if I were actually getting married, this is something I’d like.
“May I?” Church asks after a moment, and my gaze snaps up to his, heart pounding. He scoots across the seat and takes the jewel from the little velvet box, setting it aside before his long, elegant fingers curve around mine. He never breaks eye contact as he slides the ring up my finger. “When we get to the house, just make sure you play the part of enamored lover. My parents will notice if we slip up.”
“Why does everyone talk about them like they’re so goddamn terrifying?” I ask, and Church turns away. I remember what he said, about his sisters not being blood-related, why that matters, and how that factored into his somber mood that day, I’d love to know.
“You’ll find out,” Church whispers, grabbing my hand and pulling me into his lap. I’m so surprised by the move that I end up sitting there completely dumbfounded. “We should practice, just in case.”
“Practice what?” I ask, and he smiles, a shadow taking over his expression. There’s a heat to that darkness, though, that I’ve never seen before.
“This.”
Church turns my face toward him with those elegant finger of his, and then he kisses me. The shock of it freezes me in place while the intensity of the action melts me into a puddle. His tongue sweeps my mouth, expertly capturing me in that web of his, drawing me in even when I try to resist. He’s controlled, but with a fire burning just behind that façade that feels liable to shatter that careful intensity at any moment.
I pull away, turning my head and lifting a hand to cover my mouth. Every place he’s touching me tingles, and I suddenly just need distance. Scooting back into my own seat, I put space between us for the rest of the two hour drive.
Church doesn’t talk much, just stares out the window with a sort of faraway expression on his face. I take the opportunity to check my phone, sending a message to Dad to let him know I’m staying at Monica’s—total fucking lie, obviously, but what else can I do? There are a few messages from the other boys, including one from Ranger that simply says I’m sorry. I huff, and Church glances my way.
“Ranger’s apologizing to me; I just can’t figure out what, exactly, he’s apologizing for.”
“He unleashed all of that passion he keeps coiled up inside on you. He thinks he’s scared you away.” Church pauses for a moment. “Did he?”
“No, of course not.” I put my phone back in my lap and stare down at it, trying not to think too hard about the possibility of Church … you know, liking me. The twins said it; Spencer said it. It could be true. Then again, he’s also just as likely to be ‘Adam’ from the notes, right?
The car pulls up to this understated, but elegant white beachside palace.
We landed in New York, but we’re definitely a whole world away now. The sun is shining in a clear blue sky, reflecting off the gentle crests of the ocean. The grounds are manicured, but not like the ones at Ranger’s mother’s place in LA. They’re more natural here, climbing plants woven into the framework of the porch, clusters of flowers just barely contained in their designated boxes.
“We’re in the Hamptons now, by the way,” Church says, and then he opens the door. He’s just barely had the chance to stand up before an older blond woman is taking his face in her hands.
“My baby,” she says, kissing both of his cheeks and leaving smears of nude lipstick. She steps back, holding his face still as she examines him. She’s quite pretty, like she looks way too young to be his mother, and yet, he’s the youngest of six, right?
Or … he said his sisters weren’t blood-related, so what does that mean exactly?
“Mother,” he says, and then holds out a hand for me to take. I curl my fingers around his, and let him help me from the backseat and into the sunshine. The woman’s blue eyes light up, and she gives me the warmest smile I may have ever received in my life. Her expression … it reminds me of Church’s, one of those big, cheery smiles that he imitates but doesn’t always feel.
It makes so much sense now; he learned it from his mom.
“You’re even more beautiful than you were in your pictures,” she says, and when I hold out a hand for her to shake, she grabs me and squeezes me close instead, crushing the life out of me. But it’s such a nice, genuine sort of hug that I can hardly complain.
