WHAT SHE SEES IN HIS EYES

"Even though you seem lost in drinking, being negative, and playing the bad boy, I can see that deep down, you are sad. Your eyes look like they hold sadness. I feel like there is a lot going on inside you," I utter, my eyes glued to his by a powerful spark that I am trying so hard to break from.


A minute passes, his eyes threatening to burn me, and mine pleading otherwise, and it's now that I know I have to act before I find myself dancing in this fire. I want to say a lot about the expression in his icy eyes because I feel like they are hiding quite a lot, but the fire in them simply won't let me. Him becoming so lost in mine is not helping at all. He undoubtedly feels my twitching hands in his, or the wetness because I am sweating due to this heat.

I release his grip while breaking our eye contact. I'm proud of myself for keeping my gaze on him for so long, though. It is quite difficult. I mentally tap myself on the shoulder for that.

"Am I right or wrong?" To break the tedium, I speak once more after clearing my throat, hoping that he can avert his gaze from me.


He is doing everything in his power to disrupt my composure with his looks despite my best efforts to remain calm. That is what he desired, right? To be told the truth. There - I gave it to him directly and with the utmost sincerity and simplicity. Why the heck is he now gawking at me like he's questioning my honest opinion?

He blinks repeatedly for the first time in what felt like a century, taking his obnoxiously charring but cold gaze away from me and finally letting me breathe. I was actually holding my breath without even being aware of it, or perhaps I should just say that he had taken my breath away. My!


I was anxiously dreading a reaction or any responses. I was expecting him to either challenge or concur with my perceptions about him. But no. I don't freaking get any of that. In actuality, he doesn't say a fucking thing to me. He simply stands up, turns his gloriously gorgeous back to me, and takes a few long strides toward the mansion's favorite spot - the liquor parlor.

How fucking rude of him!

What kind of demon is he being haunted by? Or did I say something offensive? As far as I am concerned, I didn't say anything hurtful—unless, of course, the truth really does hurt, as they say. Whatever it is, I honored his request, right?

I watch as he gets a bottle and a glass out of the shelf and pours the liquid in. This disgusting beer!

If his drinking angered me before, it now suffocates me. It's choking the hell out of me, and I cannot bear it. He cannot simply abandon Ellie Marie Riccarford for the useless alcohol. I gave him my opinion after he asked for it, just for him to ditch me here like a useless, invisible piece of shit? No fucking way!

He is reaching for the liquid in the glass, but I beat him to it. I'm not sure if I ran across the living room to get here, but I appreciate whatever speed I used. I furiously grab the blasted glass and wrench it away from him, accidentally spilling some of its contents, and, my God! It has such a foul odor!

"I thought you said you don't drink? You detest that shit!"

I shoot my glare at him. "I would be an idiot to take this thing to my sweet mouth!"

He devilishly shoots at me in anger, "Then explain what you are doing," He fires, anger boiling in him.

"Stopping you from drinking, you jerk!" I retort, glaring furiously at his face.

Sometimes I find his height adorably irritating. I'd have to be on my tiptoes to get to his nose. Annoying!

"I warned you to be cautious with your words or..."

"Or else what?" I snap. He was totally stunned when I cynically cut him off."Spank me? You get to do that only to a bitch that will let you touch her, and this one before you, Mr Almeda, most definitely won't let you."

He advances with his eyes burning with danger. He is enraged, and the beast exuded by his behavior right now makes me tremble. I am shuddering.

I didn't realize I was moving backward until my back touched the wall. End of the escape road for me! More shivers! More cold chills as he inches closer.

Shit!

"First of all, you are my guest. You don't get to tell me what to do in my own house. Second, my drinking is none of your fucking business."

In a second, I am confined between him and the strong wall as he snarls and places his hands on either side of my head.

I can feel myself shivering right now. He can sense that too, I'm sure. But I won't back down. If he is a punitive, obnoxious jerk, then he can consider myself a stubborn b*tch who will never again accept orders from anyone!

"Well, I make that my business as long as I am here," I mumble, staring back at him.

The corners of his mouth curve up into a slight smirk, so slight, but it cannot go unnoticed. "Why don't you help me instead, huh? Is that what you want?" I feel his thumb caressing the delicate spot below my right ear. "You see, drinking is the only way I know how to get rid of this rage I feel for a strange someone. What you perceive as grief is, in my opinion, nothing more than hatred and fury. Why don't you help me forget instead because you don't want me to drink my rage away? I promise to make it incredibly heaven." He lurches closer to my face and croons hoarsely while casting me his seductive, cold glare.

I do not flinch. Like a bold bitch, I maintain my composure before the daring beast, but he keeps leaning in and in, threatening my cool. With every inch he gets closer, the fire between us grows so wildly intense. With each breath he gives me, my bones become more fragile. My breathing stops. When his candy-sugar soft lips brush mine, the entire ocean of a deadly fire that I'm floating in erupts into flames. I'm in heat!

These lips are so soft and tender, just as I had envisioned them. They must taste like the heaven he is promising; a flavor you wouldn't want to miss. If only, if only... I wouldn't mind kissing them all day long.