“Adrian!” I hissed, looking over at his amused expression in mortification. He laughed softly before drinking the rest of his wine.
“Are you finished eating?” he asked, looking down at the small pile of mashed potato and scattered vegetables that remained on my plate. When I nodded, he threw a $100 bill onto the table and stood up, making me follow suit.
We left the small restaurant, which was not very far from the beach house, and arrived back home in under 10 minutes. Adrian locked the front door behind us once we entered, before grabbing my wrist and tugging me along with him upstairs. He opened the door to our room and pulled his shirt off and grinned at me.
“I have the perfect game for us to play,” he announced, before leaving me in the room alone. I decided to strip out of the dress then – and locked the door once I remembered it was still wide open, before tugging on Adrian’s shirt.
His smell instantly overcame my senses, and I smiled happily before unlocking the door and going over to sit on the bed. Adrian walked in a few minutes later holding a packet of UNO cards, and I instantly broke out into a grin.
“Now, I have to warn you,” he said cockily, “I’m pretty fucking good at this game.”
He smirked down at me once he realised I had changed into his shirt. He threw the packet of cards onto the bed before taking off his jeans and climbing in with me – taking a position directly opposite. I pulled down the shirt to try and cover my thighs – as well as the bright red thong Amy had left in the suitcase for me to wear – before I began to shuffle the deck.
“Bring it on, Adri-poo,” I declared, giving him a wicked smile.
***
I don’t think Adrian took the fact that I was a very competitive player into account until I kept demanding that we’d replay games. The score was a tie by midnight, and as he packed the deck away while I lay in bed, I came to the realisation that maybe he let me win the last game, just so we could stop playing.
“You let me win, didn’t you?” I asked Adrian with a slight glare once he re-entered the room and shut the door behind him.
“What? No! You won – fair and square, Shortcake.” He climbed into the bed and instantly pulled me over to him. He smirked before raising the shirt up from my back and looking down to my underwear. I felt his chest jerk, like he was choking on his own saliva.
“What?” I asked, my eyes widening in embarrassment as I looked down at the pair of red lace underwear.
“Holy shit,” he muttered, keeping his gaze glued to the flimsy material that barely covered my private area. I blushed before pulling the shirt back down, snapping him out of his gaze on my lower region. “Emily,” he muttered as his eyes met mine once again.
I squirmed slightly under his intense gaze, blushing. “Y- Yes?”
He shook his head and pulled me closer into his torso, before placing a kiss on my hair. “You’re going to be the death of me,” he mumbled, making my heart rate soar.
Chapter Twelve
I woke up the next morning to the refreshing beach air, and instantly inhaled the peaceful smelling aroma while stretching my limbs after a comfortable sleep. Adrian groaned beside me and stirred a little, making me look over to him to check if I had accidentally woken him up. Once his breathing fell even, I slowly pushed myself out of bed, careful not to make much sound or movement.
Once I successfully escaped the room quietly, I made my way over to the main bathroom to brush my teeth and wash my face, before descending the long staircase to make my way to the kitchen.
My stomach grumbled slightly as I scanned the contents of the cupboards, before walking over to fridge and pulling out the loaf of bread that was sitting in the corner of the top shelf, along with 4 eggs and the jar of strawberry jam. I cut the loaf into even pieces before popping the cut pieces into the toaster while turning on the stove for the eggs.
I heard Adrian yawn loudly just as I finished spreading jam on one of the cooked toast, and turned around to find him staring at me with a sleepy smirk.
“Good morning, Housewife,” he greeted in a husky morning voice, making me blush lightly at the statement. “Is this for me?” he asked, pointing at the eggs and toast in front of him.
It was actually mine, but he took a bite from the toast before I could respond. I glared, placing a hand on my hip. “That was mine,” I said, huffing.
He shrugged and smirked in my direction before sitting on the bar stool and taking another bite from my breakfast. I gave him a look of disbelief before sighing and turning around to continue his eggs – that were now going to be mine.