Page 10 of Adam
His gaze locks on me and doesn’t let go, tracing the lines of my face like he’s memorizing them. It’s too much, yet I can’t lookaway. The air between us thickens, and a shiver crawls down my spine. I should feel uneasy, but I don’t. All I can think about is the look in his eyes and how weird it is that I like it.
“Is it too obvious that I don’t belong here?” I ask, bashfully.
He raises a brow. “It depends. Are you trying to fit in or stand out?”
“Uhm … I haven’t thought of that.”
“It can’t be that hard,” he says with a smirk that makes him the most alluring man I’ve ever seen in my life. God, and that tiniest dimple on his chin makes him even more irresistible.
He has that modeling beauty that makes you incapable of taking your eyes away. I haven’t seen such a man before.
He brushes a hand through his hair, and I catch sight of the small hoop in his tragus. Other than that, he doesn’t have any other piercings. Small tattoos are scattered across his strong arms, a snake coiled along his forearm standing out the most.
He catches me looking and lifts a brow again, this time with a hint of a smile.
“I didn’t mean to make it a hard question, little orchid.” He leans back on the counter. “I can ask something easier, if that helps.”
I squint. “Little orchid?”
He reaches for the pin tucked into the side of my hair, where it decorates my loose half-updo.
“You didn’t tell me your name, so I have to improvise.” He noticed my hair pin. He noticed they’re tiny white orchids.
He extends his hand. “I’m Adam, by the way.”
Adam… What a sexy and melodic name that is. Pretty normal, but still, when a man like him owns it, hits differently.
Oh God, I’m blushing so much that I’ll make a fool out of myself.
“There you are.”
I jump in surprise, my eyes widening.
Cazzo!Fuck!
Wes’s hoarse voice snaps me back to reality.
“How did you find me?” I pant, looking up into his eyes.
“Stay quiet and move,” he growls, grabbing my wrist.
“Whoa, cutie-pie,” Adam says, standing up from his stool. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
“Shut up and stay the fuck out of my business, pretty boy,” he hisses.
“Yeah … we’re not doing this. Let her go.”
“Back off,” Wes threatens, pulling me closer and pointing his gun at Adam.
Everyone in the bar is looking at us already. The bartender is talking on the phone—probably calling the cops.
“Wes, no!” I gasp with terror.
Adam calmly looks at the gun pointing at him and chuckles, as if he’s amused. “Let me guess. You’ve never done this before.”
“Doesn’t mean I won’t be good at it,” Wes replies, his evil smirk becoming broader.
“Wes, stop!” I squeal.
