Page 39 of Caesar DeLuca
Iscrub a hand over my face and tell myself to stay strong. Ariana is tucked in bed, nice and warm. She’ll sleep off the alcohol over the next few hours. Come tomorrow, it’ll be like it never happened.
We never kissed.
We didn’t drink too much and then cross a line.
But, fuck, did she taste so good.
I shake off the memory of Ariana’s full lips against mine. She’d melted right into me. Mine for the taking if I had chosen to be selfish and have her.
It wouldn’t be right. You know you’d be taking advantage.
Women like Ariana grow attached. She’s sensitive and relationship material. If we had sex, it would mean something to her.
Despite how much I want her—and I do want her very, very badly—I’ve got to walk away.
“Go back to your room.”
I make it halfway before I stop again. The subtlest smile begins tugging at my mouth.
Ariana had been so mortified. She hadn’t wanted me to see her private abode. Her most intimate space that I bet most others never get to see.
Bras dangling off doorknobs. Daily vitamins out on the counter. Her bed imperfectly made.
The personal touches around the room fascinated me while she cringed in embarrassment. But it was like seeing Ariana in her most natural element. Who else gets to see this if not me?
It made me feel special. Privileged.
A rustling noise catches my ear. It’s coming from Ariana’s room. Did she not listen and has she gotten out of bed anyway?
I don’t need much convincing to turn and barge back in. The door flies open as I stride inside like it’s my bedroom and not hers. Sure enough, Ariana’s not only gotten out of bed, she’s dug out a snack from her bottom drawer.
For a guilty second, she peers up at me with her pretty brown doe eyes and I stare across the room at her without a word to say.
Then… we both erupt in laughter.
Ariana holds up her free hand and the bag of pita chips, signaling she’s been caught in the act.
I head over to help her up from where she’s crouching. “You’ve got a stash in your room you’re keeping from me? How’d you know I didn’t want some?”
“You can have some any time you like.” She smiles, pushing the aluminum bag into my chest.
I can’t resist raising a suggestive brow. “Ariana, you might want to be careful how you word that. A guy could get the idea you’re talking about something else.”
“What if I am?”
Ariana gives a sultry pout that is so fucking sexy, I feel a tug in my groin. I’m eying her like I’m a breath away from devouring her when she blinks and then bursts into more laughter.
“Kidding,” she snorts. She snatches her pita chips back and drops down onto her bed. “I know you aren’t interested.”
I crack my neck and refocus my thoughts, fighting off the lust that comes on strong. “Interested in what, Ariana?”
“You know what I’m talking about. But I get it. You’re not my type either.”
As I piece together what she means, I let out an incredulous laugh. “You’re seriously thinking that…? And you’re claiming I’m not…? You’ve got to be joking. I don’t know which is funnier.”
“Well, you’re not.” The poutiness about her lips returns, her cheeks softer and rounder. Even tipsy as she is, she holds my attention. “Tall with six pack abs and handsome even with a mean mug? Not. My. Type.”
“Oh yeah? Then what is your type? Tell me.”
