Page 38 of Sacred Vow
I feel my cheeks flush, and I hope like fuck that it’s just dark enough for Izaac not to notice, but he’s always been on point with this type of thing. And despite not having said a single word about Caesar, Izaac no doubt knows exactly what’s up.
I discreetly glance across the room, following Izaac’s stare, and sure enough, Caesar is sitting in a dark corner of the club, taking up a private booth and looking more delicious than ever. His black suit and the way he’s lounging in the booth have every part of me weakening.
With one arm slung over the edge of the booth and one foot propped over his knee, he casually sips his drink as though he has all the time in the world. The woman I’d seen him with the last time I was here is draped over him in a red bandage dress, but he barely seems to notice her. His gaze is locked solely on mine as she chats animatedly to him.
I won’t lie. I’m jealous. And that’s not something I’ve ever been, especially when it comes to a man.
I’d give anything to be able to drape myself over him like that, to have his hand possessively fall to my thigh as I tell him all about my day. Only difference is, if I were going to be draped over a man, I would have his whole attention, and he sure as fuck wouldn’t be looking at another woman.
As if noticing that Caesar doesn’t give a single flying fuck about whatever she’s talking about, the woman follows his stare across the club, landing directly on me, and as her grip tightens on his arm, a scowl stretches across her lips. She’s finally realizing that she has more than just a little bit of competition tonight.
“Fucking hell. That looks messy,” Izzac mutters under his breath. “I’m going to take off before Annie tries to gouge out your eyes.”
“What?” I demand, my gaze whipping back to Izzac. “Would she really?”
“No,” he laughs. “But that doesn’t mean she’s harmless. She’s had a warped sense of ownership over Caesar for years.”
Years? Jesus. They’ve been doing this dance for that long? “And Caesar?” I ask, my gaze still locked on the mysteriously hypnotic man across the club.
Izaac chuckles. “I don’t think he even remembers her name,” he tells me, before turning and meeting my stare. “What I do know is that while he’s more than happy to indulge in everything this club has to offer, he’s not the type to blatantly ignore the woman he was with or focus so heavily on a woman who was clearly talking to another man. He doesn’t cross lines.”
“Oh, I have it on good authority that he loves crossing all sorts of lines.”
Izaac shakes his head and looks away. “I don’t want to know,” he says, watching Annie continue to glare at me. “Just keep your eyes open. Caesar is clearly intrigued by you, and while he’s a good man and isn’t going to hurt you, he’s definitely got some demons.”
My brows furrow, and I go to ask about it when Izaac turns around to face his bartender. “Anything she wants,” Izaac tells him. “It’s on the house.”
And with that, he offers me a small smile before shoving his hands into his pockets and striding away.
My attention turns right back to Caesar, and I can’t stop wondering about what kind of demons keep him up at night, but as that dark, penetrating stare quickly holds me captive, all train of thought falls out of my head.
God. He’s so delicious.
His gaze narrows, a silent challenge flashing in his eye, daring me to make the first move.
He wants me to come to him, to march my ass across this club and fall to my knees, begging for his attention. But he’s got another thing coming if he thinks that’s about to happen, especially while he has another woman draped across him like a delicate fabric molding to his body.
Hmm. Peculiar.
I’ve never been a jealous woman. Never felt possessive over a man or cared when a friend would bat her eyelashes at a guy I was seeing, but right now, I want to punch this woman right in the tit simply for existing in his orbit.
She’s had years of having him. Of tasting him. Of pleasing him. And now, it’s my turn.
A sultry smile pulls across my lips, and I lean back against the bar, crossing my legs as I lift my drink and openly eye-fuck Caesar across the room, not giving a shit how Annie glares at me. She’s had more than her fair share.
I sip my drink, making it known that I have absolutely no intention of playing by his rules tonight, and when other men start to notice just how lonely I am over here and try to get my attention, it’s all that Caesar can handle.
He gets to his feet, leaving his empty glass at the table by his booth, and despite Annie’s objections, he makes his way to me. He keeps it casual, taking his damn time as though he’s not dying to get his hands on me, not desperate to feel my skin beneath his palm.
That wicked stare never leaves mine, and with every step he takes, the tension grows between us until it becomes almost impossible to breathe.
Butterflies soar through the pit of my stomach, but I shrug them off, pretending they don’t exist as I casually sip my drink. But nothing gets by Caesar. He knows I’m nervous, just as I know he hasn’t been able to stop thinking about this since the moment he invited me here.
Caesar eats up the space between us, and I can’t help but notice just how much he holds back when Zeph is around. Here at Vixen, he doesn’t need to hide the lust he feels for me, doesn’t need to hold back his desires, and damn it, it’s clear that I haven’t even begun to experience the full force of what this man has to offer.
He’s intense in the best way, and even before he’s touched me, I’m melting into a puddle of overwhelming need.
Caesar finally reaches me, and the second his hand slides across my lower back, an intense wave of possessiveness comes over me. Only it’s not coming from me. It’s the energy he’s giving me. He’s claiming me with just one subtle touch, making sure that I know without a doubt that when I am here in this club, everything I am belongs to him. But I wouldn’t have it any other way because no other man would be able to make me come alive the way he can.
