Page 14 of Festive Fugitive
“I don’t… you know. I don’t have anything to change into,” I say before he leaves me to it.
Cesar pats a pile of clothes on top of a wicker laundry basket. I hope the towel folded alongside them is his.
The shower itself feels heavenly, but the hot water is limited so I don’t overindulge, focusing on just a quick wash to be fresh. There’s a mirror in the cabinet over the sink, so I do try to arrange my damp hair into something that doesn’t resemble a gray bird’s nest, but it is what it is. There’s spare disposable razors on the counter, so I take advantage of that, since it’s been a few days. I’m sure Cesar won’t mind.
The white T-shirt hangs off me, and I don’t know if that’s hot, because it reminds me of how beefy he is, or embarrassing. The plain pajama pants have a drawstring, so I can tie them tightly enough that they don’t slide down my hips.
I take a deep breath of the warm air. I can’t believe I feel so good when I’m a fugitive who murdered a townmayor. I glance into the mirror, and I don’t even feel so bad aboutmyself for once. Yes. I did that. I pulled the trigger. I didn’t cower, I didn’t let him get away with his crimes, I took justice into my own hands.
I walk out with my chin high, smelling fresh, and ready for bed, only to focus on the warm light coming from under the door leading to the bedroom. A sigh escapes my lips when I imagine myself back-to-back with my hot savior, but it feels like too much of a risk, so I clear my throat and speak. “I’ll take the couch.” I’m about to ask about additional blankets when Cesar cuts me off.
“Don’t be ridiculous. It’s way more comfortable here!”
My heart is in my throat, because… what if hedoeswant to sleep with me? Wouldn’t be the first gym bunny who’s into skinny guys he can handle with one arm.
My mind drifts off to a scenario where (oh no!) I have to pay him for protection in blowjobs. What a life that would be… I don’t sleep around, because lately my life situation wasn’t exactly conducive to that, but I also need a connection to feel comfortable.
And boy, do I feel a connection with Cesar even though I met him yesterday.
If he wanted to, I would.
I lick my lips and open the bedroom door with my heart beating all too fast.
Can you get a heart attack from too much excitement?
Chapter 7
Cesar
Thecabin’sgrounded,soeven in the unlikely case lightning did strike, I should be safe enough, but I can’t help the throbbing sensation over my heart each time thunder rolls over the sky.
Reasonably, I know the implant in my heart must be a lie constructed to keep me in line from a young age, but my lizard brain tells me to never test that theory. With Sullivan dead, in the case the implantdoesexist, there’s no one else who would be able to activate it. A storm is another matter though, as I was told lightning could affect the mechanism.
The mechanism that doesn’t exist.
And yet, my body remains stiff, and I wish to burrow deep underground. Lying on the floor, as far from the roof as possible will have to suffice.
I nod at Eli when the door opens, pulling the blanket all the way to my chin. I know I’ve been short with him since we arrived, but I can’t let him know how badly something as mundane as the weather affects me. He’s here under my protection, and I need him to feel safe.
As soon as I see him, that strange bond with him flares up inside me. I’m instantly back to where I caught a glimpse of his eyes after he killed Sullivan. He was wearing that silly Santa costume, but I’d recognize those gray eyes anywhere. They pushed my split second decision. I could have either pursued him for the murder and broken his neck, or decided that he was the one who freed me from the leash of a cruel man.
I made my decision, and here we are.
I finally get to see more of him, even if in baggy clothing. He’s bony but tall, his cheeks are flushed, lips a little darker for some reason. Because he’s skinny, his cheekbones seem more pronounced. With the curiosity in his eyes and the way he’s fiddling with the hem of his T-shirt, he reminds me of a weasel. So cute and slinky. He’d be so easy to handle in bed. I want him to gain weight for his own good, but it doesn’t need to be much if he’s not keen. He’s perfect already. If only I could get my hands on him…
“Um… so…” And now I know why his lips seem darker, because he bites on them again. “That’s unreasonable. The bed is big.” Eli points to the king-size bed I’m lying next to.
By any person’s standards, he’s correct. No need for me to take the floor, as if I’m a dog guarding its master, but when I glance up at him and imagine how fresh his damp hair must smell after the shower, it feels like too much of a risk. I’ve missed last Friday’s fun due to a bad cold, so my self-control might not be as tight as it usually is, and I don’t want to creep him out.
Spending the night on the couch would have been a solution, but at thirty-three I know myself enough to realize I wouldn’t be able to doze off in another room when Eli could be in danger.
So here we are.
The intense thunder above us isn’t helping me be reasonable.
“Don’t worry. You need the rest more than I do.”
He walks in, taking unsure steps toward the bed. He’s barefoot. I should have given him socks too. He has no idea how precious he is to me. For as long as I remember, I’ve been under another man’s heel, and as Sullivan’s killer, Eli is the obvious choice for me. I need to adjust to being around someone who isn’t here to command me but needs protection and guidance himself.
