Page 23 of Caesar DeLuca
“I’m…” I swallow, my breaths shallow. “I’m… giving you privacy…”
“Who says I want any?”
Oh lord. Why is he standing so close?!
“You’re… half dressed.”
We both glance down at his front. The space between us is only a few inches, but in that tight space exists a tension that’s making me hot. I feel as if we’re in the middle of a heatwave rather than a snowstorm.
Heat generated by Caesar DeLuca.
“You’ve seen me shirtless before,” he says slowly. He hasn’t let go of my wrist.
“You just… you seem… too settled for me to… to…”
I trail off, my face burning. I struggle to maintain eye contact, but then I remind myself that it’s this or an unabashed glance down at the noticeable bulge in his sweatpants.
“You never answered me last night,” he goes on. “You realize I wouldn’t hurt you, right?”
“Caesar…” I mutter.
“Tell me you know this? Otherwise, I can’t stay here.”
My brows push together. “What do you mean?”
“If I’m making you that uncomfortable—that afraid—then I can’t stay here. I’ll show you I mean no harm and I’ll leave.”
“You can’t leave. You need more rest. Your wound’s not healed all the way…”
“It doesn’t matter.” He lets go of my wrist and, just like that, the heat’s gone. He brushes past me, walking over to the bed to retrieve the t-shirt I’ve given him. “You may think the worst of me, Ariana, but I am a civilized man. A violent man, that’s true, but still a civilized one.”
“Don’t go,” I blurt out. “It’s… it’s not you.”
It’s me. Me and my fear.
Of everything.
I take a step toward him. “Sit down. I’ll change out your bandages.”
“Ariana—”
“Sit down,” I repeat, working up my nerve. “And it’s Ari.”
He grins at me. “So sassy. I might like this bossy side of you.”
“You do?”
“It’s sexy.”
I can’t help the laugh that squeaks out of me. I’m flushed all over again, reaching for the items on the tray. “You’re messing with me now.”
“What did I tell you? I don’t lie and I’m a man of my word. If I say something, it’s true.”
He has been very honest. Too honest.
He does as I’ve asked and sits down to let me clean his wound and apply a new bandage. For the first few minutes, I work in silence. Caesar tricks me into talking, asking me about the phone call he’d heard traces of.
“That was Mrs. Bev. She’s my friend.”
