Page 176 of Adam
He gives me an eyeroll. “Seriously?”
“I mean, why not Batman, or Superman?” My eyes flick. “Or Winnie the Pooh?”
He snorts. “Because I’m not eight, I don’t like capes, and I’d rather die than explain a Winnie the Pooh tattoo.”
I scoff. “Bold words from a man with a cartoon mouse permanently inked on his skin.”
“Didn’t stop you from staring.” He shrugs.
I lift a shoulder. “I never said it did.”
He leans in closer and grips my chin between his fingers. “I’d be disappointed if you did.”
I don’t reply, letting the silence settle between us. It isn’t awkward. It isn’t empty.
He’s changed. Not completely—just enough that I notice if I think about it. I still see the man I met in the way he jokes, the way he smirks, the way that annoyingly cocky smile slips onto his face like he’s about to say something he definitely shouldn’t and absolutely will anyway.
I don’t know if it’s because of me, or this house, or just time doing its thing …
Actually, that’s not true.
I do know it’s me.
I can see it in the way he’s different now—in the way he becomes the Bane he keeps hidden inside, just to protect me.
The way he looks at me.
The way he smiles for me, at me, and because of me.
I didn’t really see it happening while it was unfolding, but I see it now.
I know what I did, what I changed. And I fucking love it.
I never cared if he stayed the same. I liked him then, but this—this version of him—is mine in a way the others weren’t.
His eyes move over my face until they stop at my mouth. His thumb brushes my lower lip as he bites his own.
“Put it back in, Ken doll,” Cain drawls, dropping onto the black leather armchair across from us, a glass of whiskey in his hand.
I bite down on my lip and look away.
Adam lets out a low grunt, annoyance flashing across his face before he finally pulls back. He leans into the couch. “You always had perfect timing.”
“One of my many talents.”
Adam’s eyes roll back. “Still a pain in the ass. Still convinced everyone needs your commentary.”
Cain takes a slow sip of his whiskey. “Someone has to keep you from embarrassing yourself.” He lifts his glass slightly in my direction. “Consider this a public service.”
I arch a brow. “I didn’t realize I’d asked for one.”
Adam’s eyes widen in surprise. “She bites.”
Then, slow, measured footsteps interrupt our otherwise pleasant ambiance. Judas walks in, hands clasped behind his back, eyes scanning the room.
“Bless our humble reunion, Father,” Adam jeers, his feet crossed on the living room table as he leans back further into the couch.
“Language,” Grayson growls, walking right behind him.
