Page 17 of Sacred Vow
“I, uhhh . . . I mean, if you want to be technical. I live here, so it’s still my place. My father just . . . maybe is the one who owns it.”
A snorted laugh tears out of me as Zephyr strides back with my drink, and I take a healthy sip before instantly choking on the vodka and making a mental note not to allow Zeph to make me a drink ever again. This boy likes his drinks strong. I mean, shit. I don’t think there’s any orange juice in here. Just straight vodka on the rocks.
“Awwwww, how sweet. Are you a little trust fund baby, trying to impress girls with Daddy’s money?”
Zeph grabs a cushion off the couch and launches it at my face, and I do what I can not to spill my drink all over the expensive material. “Shut up.”
I hear the sound of the internal garage door opening before the footfalls of Zeph’s father, and I won’t lie, I’m intrigued to see what his dad is like. I bet they’re exactly the same. Both tall, probably both handsome. The only difference would be that Zeph’s father would be a more serious version of his son.
“Zeph? That you?” I hear a deep, hypnotic voice calling through the massive house. “Didn’t realize you were coming home tonight.”
“Yeah, it’s me,” Zeph responds just as I turn my head over my shoulder and see the man in question step around the corner and send me into a tailspin.
No. No fucking way.
It couldn’t be.
My gaze sails over his father, taking in his graying thick hair, the stubble across his strong jaw, and the dark, intense eyes—eyes that watched me come apart in the most spectacular way.
It’s him.
The man from Vixen.
The very man who left me with such an intense need to be fucked within an inch of my life that I ended up screwing the first guy who offered in the middle of my psychology class—a guy that just so happens to be his son.
What in the ever-loving fuck? What are the chances?
My heart races in a way it never has before, and all I can do is stare at the man as he strides through his home. His gaze is locked on mine as though he can’t believe what he’s seeing, and honestly, neither can I.
He recovers a shitload faster than I ever could and tears his gaze away before focusing on his son. “I didn’t realize we had company tonight.”
“Yeah, sorry,” Zeph says. “I thought you’d be out. Tilly and I can head somewhere else.”
“Not at all,” he rumbles, that deep tone sending shockwaves right to the center of my core, reminding me just how intense he was at Vixen.
I squirm on the couch, my thighs clenching together, unable to control the wild need pulsing within my veins. His dark gaze swings back to me, and I see the silent challenge in his eyes, daring me to push him and take what he knows I really want. “Who am I to kick a beautiful woman out of my home? What do you say, Tilly? Why don’t you stay for dinner?”
Shit. I’m not going to survive this.
I swallow hard, trying to push the nerves down.
I’ve never been nervous when it comes to men, but this one in particular has me in a damn chokehold. “I, ummm . . . sorry,” I say, getting to my feet. “I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
He laughs and the sound nearly sends me over the edge. “Not possible, hellcat.”
Fuck me dead and call me Suzi. Did he just call me hellcat? In front of his son? Holy fucking hell.
My cheeks flame, and I struggle to keep my eyes off him, almost forgetting that Zephyr is even in the room. “If you insist,” I practically purr.
His dark gaze all but eats me up and swallows me whole, and with every second he holds my stare, my knees become weaker, barely capable of holding me up. “Oh, I insist,” he rumbles, making me desperate to feel how his words would vibrate through his chest. He moves closer, so close I can smell his woodsy cologne, and damn it, why do I suddenly have the urge to lick this man from head to toe?
He holds out his hand to me, and I take it without hesitation, the warmth of his hold sending hot pulses shooting through my body like an electric current. “Caesar Di Rozé,” he rumbles, adding the slightest accent to his name and making goosebumps spread across my skin.
Oh God. Even his name is sexy.
“Tilly Bardot.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Tilly,” he murmurs, that rich tone all but sending me to an early grave as his eyes focus so intently on mine that I forget to breathe.
