Page 35 of Caesar DeLuca
“No…” I choke out anyway. “You don’t… I don’t care…”
“You don’t care? Which means this is okay.”
I pause, then nod, feeling my pulse thrum faster. He inches closer. I turn away and distract myself with another long gulp from my wine glass. His presence commands the room, his energy an invisible force that I feel even though he hasn’t laid a finger on me.
“I have to be honest, Ariana,” he says calmly, like we’re strangers discussing the weather. “I find you very intriguing. I find you very attractive.”
“Caesar…”
“I should probably stay away,” he muses aloud, so close now his chest brushes my back. “But then I see you like this, looking so damn good without even knowing it. And I think about all the things I want to do to you. I wonder if you’d even let me.”
“We can’t…”
“You said it yourself. We have a limited amount of time. Why not enjoy ourselves?”
“Because…” I come up blank. I shake my head and chance a glance up at him from over my shoulder. “Because it would only… it’d make things difficult.”
“Look at me.”
Caesar grabs me by the arm and turns me around. He grips my face by the chin and angles my head back so my eyes connect with his. His mouth hovers inches above mine. The soft breaths we take I feel, gentle wisps of air that tickles my lips.
“Tell me I can’t kiss you,” he says. “Tell me you don’t want it.”
“And if I don’t?”
“Then you do. You want me to. And I will.”
I should say no. Every part of me screams for me to do it and tell him to stop. My lips part as if about to utter the words.
Instead, I close my eyes at the feel of his mouth so near mine. I find myself whispering what I know I shouldn’t. What I’ll only come to regret.
“Kiss me.”
13
ARIANA
“More,” I giggle, holding out my empty wine glass.
Caesar grants my request. The red liquid flows into my wine glass ’til it’s reaching the rim and I’m squealing at him to stop. He grins at me, then takes a swig straight from the bottle.
Our third bottle of the night.
It’s safe to say things have gotten out of hand—but we’re too drunk to notice and to care.
It started with the single glass we’d each had earlier. We kissed and then we decided to let go a little. We poured another glass and got to talking as we sipped.
The first bottle turned into a second bottle that’s resulted in our third.
Caesar flushes pink when he’s drunk. The tips of his ears glow and his face tinges a rosy shade that makes me giggle. His scowl always vaguely remains on his face, regardless of whether he’s sober or inebriated. But with the hint of pink coloring him, it becomes amusing.
The subtle flash of his crooked grin pulls at the deepest part of me. So far deep it’s where I’ve buried desire.
I’m coming alive in a way I thought I never would again.
I’m even drunker than he is, swaying on the kitchen stool I’m sitting on. It’s stripped away all my crippling insecurity and self-doubt. It’s left me open-minded and giggly, my spirits higher than usual. The wine has started tasting more like juice, and I swallow another sip as I admire how fine and sexy Caesar is.
Either he truly doesn’t get how attractive he is or he’s teasing the hell out of me.
