I laugh and take his hand, then pull him up and into a kiss. “It is,” I say and perk up on my toes to kiss him deeper while I still can.
I’m never going to meet another man like Caesar. And even if I do, what are the chances he’ll be into me? Better enjoy this fantasy while it’s real.
Caesar pulls his lips back, his stubble scraping my lips. “Well, I’m glad you like it. If you said something bad about the girls, I’d have to kick you out.”
I love that he calls them the girls, but I bite my lip instead of sharing that. “I like your house,” I tell him. “Thanks for having me in.”
“Any time,” he grunts, then returns to his seat on the couch.
I slide in beside him. “Don’t say that unless you mean it.”
He arches an eyebrow to me, but doesn’t say anything to negate the offer. After a second, Caesar clears his throat. “You need anything? I got some whiskey, maybe a bottle of wine somewhere.”
I toss my leg over his and lean back on the couch. “This is perfect.”
Caesar nods. He looks satisfied, and I appreciate that he’s left his shirt off, allowing me to study the nice curve of his side and the burly strength of his chest and arms.
It crosses my mind that he only has pictures of his dogs out and that, except for that one of his dad working at Blade, the pictures of people were all in a box in the back of his closet. The more the orgasmic haze fades, the more my curiosity about Caesar rises up, demanding I learn every little thing about him.
I don’t want to bug him about Mack anymore, I realize. I just want to know Caesar.
“Will you still get more tattoos?” I ask, trying to prompt him. “You’re running out of space,” I tease.
“Sure.” Caesar looks down at himself. “Plenty of space left.”
“Do you know what’s next?”
He leans back on the couch, relaxing his eyes toward me. “I figure out the artist I want to work with first. The piece usually comes second.”
“Which artist are you going to work with?”
He shrugs lightly. “Rafael, my apprentice, probably. Haven’t talked to him about it yet.”
I laugh. “Tattooing your boss sounds intense.”
“It’s not like that,” Caesar objects.
“Because you’re friends,” I say, nodding. It makes sense. If I’m able to get through Caesar’s prickly shell and see the guy inside, then surely some other people can, too.
Although I have quite enjoyed feeling like I was special in doing that. It’s made it easier to hope this could be something more than just a scandalous hookup.
Caesar rubs his jaw. “Okay, well, maybe it will be like that for Rafael.”
“Oh.” I squint at him. “I know you aren’t a people person, but you do have people, right?”
“I got plenty of fucking people,” Caesar snaps, prickly. He lets out a little snort, then softens. “Sorry. Don’t mean to yell at you.”
I smile. “You didn’t yell. And I don’t mind, anyway, if it means you’re talking to me.”
It’s not like I’m a doormat. If he were actually mean to me or disrespectful, I know I’d walk out the door. But Caesar is just… well, Caesar, and I like that about him.
“All I mean is the artists at my shop know I’m impressed by their work.”
“Because you tell them?”
“Because I gave them fucking jobs at my shop,” he huffs.
“That doesn’t count, Caesar,” I tell him with a laugh. “Everyone needs a personal touch sometimes.”
