“Yeah,” I rasp. “Sure was.”
I’ve got one arm around Drew’s shoulders, the other around his side, and I’m still buried inside of him. He quivers as the waves of orgasmic bliss fade, shuddering each breath.
I hold Drew, and as my thoughts return, I know that I want to never let him go.
CHAPTERTHIRTEEN
DREW
“Pizza,”Caesar barks out of nowhere. “You like pepperoni?”
We’re lying on the couch together, and I’m still in a post-sex daze. Our naked, sweaty bodies are tangled up, and even though Caesar wiped me off with a tissue, there’s still a smear of cum on my stomach.
I blink and sit up. “Pepperoni?”
Half of Caesar’s mouth cocks up in a grin, like I just said something funny. I’m still trying to process what just happened between us, but his lopsided smile and messy hair are just too sexy and adorable, and I end up laughing warmly.
He frowns, furrowing his brow. “I’m just saying. I’ll order us a pizza.”
Holy shit, he’s not rushing me out the door. “I’d love a pepperoni pizza,” I answer with a grin.
Caesar slaps my leg, then pulls it off his lap as he stands. I watch his muscles dancing beneath his tattoos while he kicks on a pair of short gray boxers.
I take him in, allowing myself to stare. Caesar is heavily inked, even more than I realized before I saw him naked. A lot of the pieces seem planned, like the dog motorcycle gang that races down his side, the graveyard party on his leg, and the yellow flowers that bloom on the backs of his hands. The style is equal parts cartoony and badass, and it all comes together in perfect symmetry on him.
“Your ink is gorgeous.”
Caesar finds his phone and glares at it. “I know some talented artists.” He pokes the device a few times, then holds it up to his ear.
While he orders the pizza, I pull my briefs back on, but I don’t get any more dressed than that. I’m hoping that Caesar will stay half-naked, too, and that him ordering pizza means we get to stretch this out at least a little longer. I’m not under any delusions. Caesar gives no indication that he’s looking for anything more than sex.
But my heart still reaches out to him. Maybe I haven’t had sex in too long, or maybe my brain short-circuited when everything else in my life turned upside down.
Maybe I just need someone to hold on to, and Caesar’s right there, big and sturdy.
He finishes with the order and, before I can say anything, walks toward the kitchen. “Be right back,” he grumbles.
I take the opportunity to slip into the bathroom, then to glance around the living room a little more. Grace lays in the middle of the room, watching me while I search for little clues to Caesar’s life.
He’s reading a thick novel with a spaceship on the front of it, which I spot resting on a pile of tattoo magazines. There are scraps of paper all over the place, a lot of them with notes or little drawings jotted down, and when I glance at the pictures framed on top of the TV stand, I realize they’re all dogs like Grace.
“Seeing anything interesting?”
I startle and turn. Caesar stands there and offers me a glass of water, one eyebrow arched. “Well?”
I feel caught, even more since I’m still in my underwear, but the way he’s staring at me like I might be in trouble… it is kind of hot.
“The dogs,” I say, nodding to his tattoo, then the framed pictures. “Those were all your dogs?”
Caesar points to his ink, naming them as he goes. “Rex. Hammerhead. Rose. Xeno.”
I grin. “And Grace,” I say, then gulp from the cool water, way thirstier than I realized.
Caesar eyes my smile while he squats down to pet Grace. “What are you grinning about now?”
“Because you have all your dogs tattooed on you as a motorcycle gang, and it’s possibly the cutest thing I’ve ever seen,” I answer honestly.
Caesar frowns. “Cute,” he says, like he still can’t believe it.
