𝐆𝐞𝐭𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 |𝟏𝟖+

41 || Anything

Song: The Hills (Slowed)

𝔚𝔚𝔚
Celina

"At least, I can now tell Seb I wasn't lying when I said we were saving ourselves for marriage."

The man who's face is practically against mine, pulls away an inch, it's not far but it's enough for that murderous hue of blue to filter through his gaze. "You'd be talking to a corpse then."

I don't question that threat. Not when his confession from moments ago still sits heavy between us.

What if I was?

He'd finally admitted to being jealous. Yet it didn't feel all that satisfying knowing I'd been right. Instead, I feel... slightly dizzy, nauseous yet giddy at the thought.

I don't like it one bit. And so, I ignore it, flickering my eyes around the perfect angles of his face, forcing a nonchalant smirk. "You really are jealous."

"That's not jealously, D'yavolenok." He pulls back even farther, bringing the bottle of vodka to his lips and taking yet another long sip. I don't recognize the brand, nor can I read the label thats obviously in Russian. But theres something so provocative in the way he does it.

"umhm," I hum, yet I can't seem to focus on what he's on about. "Then what is it?" Not when he's far too distracting.

I cant seem to take my eyes off how the neck of the bottle looks so small in his perfectly sized hand, or how his lips, plump and pink look so perfectly wet as he wraps them around the lip of the bottle.

And then there are his eyes. Hypnotically blue, dazed and lazy as he watches me with his head slightly tipped back and his throat bobbing as he chases the vodka down with nothing but his words delivered in a harsh breath. "That's the desire to kill."

I flicker my gaze up to him, his words and threat to kill Seb clear through the Russian tyrant induced haze.

"Well, save that desire for someone else." I murmur, reaching for the bottle suddenly parched.

He lifts it over his head, effortlessly out of my reach, and towers over me. I narrow my eyes up at him. "I thought you said you'd share."

His tongue peeks out to trace the drop of vodka left on his lower lip, "I changed my mind."

"Why?" A breeze drifts in from somewhere, while the pouring outside begins to slowly drown out the rational part of my mind telling me his proximity is nothing but a catalyst for bad decisions.

"You're disgusting." He murmurs, yet the way he gazes down at me says otherwise. Nor does the swaying of his body as he lean into me he'll his case.

"That didn't stop you a minute ago." It's as if he's taunting me when he brings the bottle to his lips and takes yet another sip. A taunt I can't help but watch carefully. Daringly, I meet his gaze. "Nor did it stop you last night."

Thunder rumbles, trees sway, while lightning fuels a spark between us.

He doesn't indulge in my bold statement, doesn't show so much as a reaction, nor does he bother to entertain me with a response. It's as though the alcohol in his bloodstream solidifies his self restraint, because instead of indulging, Adrik veers us in a safer direction. "That was before I realized you've been wearing that shirt of yours for the past three days."